(and yes, those are just a few of the thousands of graves in the moslem cemetery - most dated between 1992 and 1995), how about some positivity! Oh, and maybe a gripe about smoking. Moguce (with a ‘ch’).
In my wanderings around the city I took a lot of photos to try and capture the feeling of the place.
It was the first day back at school for the children and so in the morning the streets were filled with kids catching up with friends after the holiday sezona, the little ones all shiny and new with big smiles, and the older ones very cool with their aviator glasses and tight jeans (kiss kiss on each cheek). The school day is held in two shifts so at lunchtime the streets outside the schools were clogged with school kids again - kids arriving, kids leaving, mothers catching up with each other – a bit of a universal thing, the mothers catching up at the school gates. Not the big issue with cars depositing children at school here though – kids here still know how to walk, some were on bikes and a big swarm of them used the tram. The shops were full of signs offering posput or akcija for the return to school (discounts, special offers – you know the drill).
I wandered around taking photos of the churches of all denominations. I found the Glazba Skola (with a ‘sh’) – remember, I told you that Music Schools are important, and that every town has one. A love for Classical music is important, as is learning a musical instrument. Young people were traipsing into the beautiful old building with violins, guitars and clarinets.
Near the National Museum gardens I found tombstones which date back to medieval times.
Sarajevo has a history of tolerance for all the different people who have gathered there to live – maybe this is because the city was always a cross-road of sorts. When the Ottomans annexed the area to their empire (15th Century), the city developed quickly both economically and culturally because caravans arrived from Venice, Vienna, Central Europe, the Mediterranean, and the east through this area. In the Bascarsija area there were 50 ‘hans’ or inns set up to accommodate the travelers. Necessity being the mother of what it is (you know), there emerged the first leather craftsmen, black smiths, saddlers¸ millers and bakers. The streets in Bascarsija were named after the crafts practiced there.
Under the Ottoman rule the tolerance of other religious creeds was apparent. The Ottomans built mosques and hamams – the Sephardic Jews settled in Sarajevo when they were expelled from Spain (1492ish), and both the Orthodox Christians and Catholic churches were present. A real cosmopolitan mix. The Jewish Museum has a whole wall dedicated to stories of Bosnians who risked their own lives to protect and hide Jews during the Second World War.
Check out the names on the death notices outside one of the mosques, and you will see what a mix this city has become.
One of the features of the city of which Sarajevo is very proud (it features as the selling point on the free tourist brochure) is the fact that in 1659 there were more than 110 public drinking fountains. Sarajevo is one of the few European cities th
at has had a water supply system for more than 400 years – houses had running water piped into them long before other cities. In the streets there is water aplenty to fill your drinking bottle – and so I did. Delicious cold water.
And a final little tale to amuse myself (I am easily amused).
This is the tale of my homeward journey – slightly cooler as I left the pansion at 6 in the morning, waiting amongst the morning workers for the tram to the train station. I had decided to return to Makarska by train because I thought that I needed to leave the joy of the bus journey for others to experience….(train from Sarajevo to Ploce, bus from Ploce to Makarska).
The ticket was nearly the same price, the journey one hour less, they sold kava and sok (coffee and juice), so it was a no- brainer. I’ve learnt to be early for these adventures to ensure that I get a good seat. Which I did, in a no smoking compartment – big roomy armchairs (filthy dirty and very old, but no one died from filthy dirty or old). Settled in, book, kroasan s cokoladom (croissant with nutella inside).
The compartment (is that what it’s called? – sounds weird) filled up until it was in fact overflowing, with people standing (see, I’m a fast learner).
And then the smoking started.
I leaned over to the guy in front of me and said ‘molim vas, ne pusenje’ (with a ‘sh’), and he quickly put his cigarette out. This power went to my head of course. The next two older guys lit up further down the train…the guard came through and told them that they could not smoke – they could however go to the space between the two carriages to smoke. Which they did –just that one time. The lady further down started smoking and she too was told to go out the back. Which she did- just that one time.
It all went down hill after that – there were five men and two women in that compartment (oh, is it carriage?) who chain smoked if the guard was out of sight, and I was the only one who dared say anything – at this point I gave up though.
Most travelers left the train at Mostar so in the carriage I was left with four chain smokers and a new guard. Who chain smoked with them. When we were whittled down to just three of us, I pointed out the no smoking sign to one of the men as he lit up again, and asked him not to smoke. He said ‘samo jedan’ (only one..) and looked away, continuing to smoke. (He didn’t dare look at me, I was mad as!)
I washed all of my clothes when I got home – it reminded me of the days when you came home from a bar and stinking like an ashtray. Having said all of that, the train was a lovely way to travel – roomy, ambling, rollicking, with a different vista from the one in the bus. Plenty of tunnels and bridges and rivers. I would recommend it. And maybe by the time you get here and take this journey, Bosnia may have sorted out their smoking culture!
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