Bosnia is beautiful, open, vast, rocky and seems a little dilapidated. We take a wrong turn and end up in a village. There is a rusty old broken down bus, and many weathered men chopping copious amounts of wood, and we are unsure why. They don’t seem bothered by us, but it certainly feels like this is not a tourist area.
The shells of homes, cobbled back together surround a mound with a small ‘monastery’ on the top. Leon is pretty keen to make a move, so we get back onto our sat nav’d path. We arrive in Mostar, a much more lively place. We stop in a ‘P’ marked bay and then notice this is for hotel guests only. We wonder into the guesthouse and can’t find a soul. It looks like a bar with historical artifacts set about some tables and chairs.
A bit dusty, but we are keen to relax after a long drive. No one comes. So we turn back up the steep drive and a man walks after us from the adjacent hotel. He informs us this is not a bar, but a museum!! Oooookay then. We can’t stay in there parking bay and he points us in the right direction and warns us not to drive the other side of the bridge, as many roads are closed. Helpful, thanks! We drive literally round the corner. A man in a yellow tabard asks if we need parking, and I say yes please! It’s quite narrow and winding, and someone to show us a safe place to park seems sensible. He ushers is into a sandy area that a few other cars are parked in, with no marked bays. We give him the equivalent to about £6.25 (50 Croatian Kuna, although he asked for Euros or Bosnian mark… later, we realise this was perhaps not the greatest move knowing the history between the places, but he didn’t seem to mind). He points us in the direction of the local tourist place, the Stari Most, a quaint looking bridge that is reminiscent of Strasbourg ‘le petit france’. We make our way through some cute cobbled paths with a middle Eastern themed market, with many metallic trinkets, old ladies selling lace, with a spattering of military paraphernalia among the it! Pens from bullets, medals, gas masks… all sorts of oddities. Knowing there has been a relatively recent war, this feels a bit peculiar. At this time, I was rather ignorant on the facts, and have since researched a bit more, but more on that later. We get to the entrance to the Stari Most Bridge that is set about a large and captivating river, reflections of the surrounding mosque turrets beaming proudly back from the water. We see signs for ‘war tours’ but are quite happy mooching about for now. It all seems so peaceful.
There are many hijabbed ladies taking selfies, and it seems the fashion to wear black and silver studs, not dissimilar to back when I wore a dog collar when I was 15 years old! The soft, colourful cashmere and wool pashminas are tempting, but I remind myself I do have about 20 odd scarves. After a decent amount of absorbing the culture, and reminding ourselves the fact we are not in Turkey, we stop to sit at a small cafe at the side of the bridge with a breathtaking view. We order Bosnian coffee and baklava. The coffee is served as the Turks do, in copper pots and exceptionally strong, with Turkish delight. The baklava is out of this world. Nothing like the dried up bits of sweet pastry we have in the U.K. it is crisp, and you can see each layer. The chopped nuts and fresh honey oozes from every potential gap. We both feel ready to take on the world after this. Pumped with caffeine and sugars, we head back through the market and emerge onto a street we recognise as the way towards the car park. I have seen some people eating what looked like puffed up soft pitta and lamb and want to try the local food while we are on our off the cuff day trip to Bosnia. We find what looks like a ratty front room and a couple smoking around a table. The man jumps to his feet and I ask him about this local dish. I have to say, the English they speak is exceptional. I was really expecting to have to get Google translate out. He informs us this food is called ‘Cevapi’ (I later research this comes from the word Kebab, or vice versa). After a half hour of chatting away together about the wonders of the day, a plate each of this delightful dough and smoked smelling meat arrives, with a portion of raw onion on the side! Man oh man this is tasty. The pitta is like nothing I have ever enjoyed, fluffy but firm, and actually tastes a bit like sourdough. I chose 5 pieces of minced meat (lamb/ beef?) to go in mine, and Leon had 10. They were fashioned into the shape of cocktail sausages only with rough edges rather than smooth. It was about £3.50 for both meals. Scandalous. They didn’t offer any drink but bought us free water over. Mostar feels like it’s on the edge of becoming a touristic destination. It’s got everything there, ready to go, but the people have seen stuff, you know? They have literally, been through the wars. They don’t know quite what to do with tourists yet. Are we friend, foe, and almost feels like they are apprehensive of taking your money.