Sarajevo has fascinated me as a city – when the recent war spread over the tv screens in NZ, we were all moved by the plight of these people, and Sarajevo was the place that featured the most on the news coverage. At the time of the war, sitting around with friends, we discussed what it was about this war which moved us so much. Somebody chimed in with the comment that these people on the screen could be us.
For whatever reason, we were moved, and Sarajevo needed to be visited by me, not least because it has risen from the ashes.
Because I have martyr tendencies, it seemed like a good idea to take the 11 o’clock bus, hoping against hope that the temperature would be over 30 – nothing like a bus trip in the middle of the day when you are dying of heat.
My seat was not inclined to incline, the arm rest was permanently rested where no arm could comfortably rest, and the airconditioning had given up the ghost long ago. ‘It’s an old bus’ said the guy with the dreads behind me. He was going to Sarajevo to visit his parents and sister – he has lived in Sweden since the start of the war.
We gathered more people (could they get any more people in the bus?) at Ploce and then headed for Metkovic and on to the border control into Bosnia - the wide-eyed American girl in front of me asked the policeman if she needed to show hers -‘I’m American – do they still need to see my passport?’-.
The landscape is quite different on this side of the mountains – not so much rock, not so many pines - and the most beautiful green rivers. Do you remember the beautiful river that Mostar is situated on? The Neretva river runs all of the way down from Sarajevo – deep green, gorging and winding its way through the mountains. Fantastic source of power, all of these rivers. There are little villages dotted everywhere, with solid looking women in scarves, long skirts and thick woolen socks. Goodness, it's 38 degrees…
We stopped at a place called Jablanica – famous for a fight in the second world war where Tito out-smarted the Germans. This time it was famous for the lamb on the spit – 20 kuna for huge slabs of it wrapped up with thick slabs of white bread and roasted krumpir. (I had a salad). An Australian guy who was travelling with 4 other guys that he met 'on the internet' was convinced that it was pork. Not in this part of the muslim world honey…
And then back into the bus and on to Sarajevo. I have instructions to take the number one tram and walk towards the taxi stand, up the side street to Pansion Stari Grad. And so I did. Funny to be feeling like a tourist again with my back pack and my maps in hand.
I have to say, that my first reaction is an immediate disconnect – it FEELS like Turkey, it SMELLS like Turkey, it TASTES like Turkey, the buildings are Turkish, I am surrounded by mosques… but I can understand what the people are saying! Totally weird.
Now, I have so much to say about this visit, that you are going to be treated to Sarajevo in serial form. Unclick me if this doesn’t suit, but there is just so much to say about this place, and I don’t want to swamp you. Trust that that suits…
In case you have no history at all about this area and to help you to understand why it seems Turkish, here is a ridiculously small overview;
• The Ottoman army, after years of penetration into Bosnian Territory captured the area surrounding Sarajevo in 1463 and these lands were more or less controlled by the Ottomans (or Turks) for the next four centuries. The Ottomans wanted the area for the corridor that could be created, and for the taxes that they could impose on the people to fund further incursions into Europe. Bosnia was a launching pad from where further offenses against the Austrian/Hungarians could be based.
• Over the course of the years, many of Bosnian’s inhabitants converted to Islam – we could say (recimo) that conversion was an 'attractive' option – less taxes, and business opportunities available. The Orthodox Christians, and the Sephardic Jews were not singled out for conversion, but the Catholic Churches and Monasteries reduced in number during the Ottoman Rule.
• There seems to have been a mystical convergence of the Muslim and Christian faiths, where a fairly unique symbiotic relationship has developed between the two religions. There are shared superstitions in the power of amulets, and records of Christians calling for Muslim dervishes to read verses from the Qu’ran to cure or bless them.
So, by all accounts, a city of strong faith, but faiths that are tolerant of each other and even have some overlap.
Walking through Bascarsije – to say that word, the ‘s’ is a ‘sh’, the ‘c’ is a ‘ch’,
the second ‘s’ is a ‘sh’ and the ‘j’ is, of course, a ‘y’ sound. Of course – which is the old town, there are doner kebab stalls, corn stalls, copper stalls, carpet shops, apple tea stalls¸cevapcici (all of the ‘c’s’ are ‘ch’s’) – all very Turkish. There are women in head scarves, women in full burkas and women in all of their modern glory..
Maybe that’s enough to start off with.
Oh, just one little interesting jem – there are about 10 bridges crossing the Miljacka River which divides the sort of Turkish influence architecture on the lijevo bank from the sort of Austrian architecture (desno bank) (they came later and wrought havoc) and on one of these bridges, the Latinska Cuprilja (with a ‘ch’) (actually on the path just before you pass onto the bridge)was where a young politico called Gavrilo Princip shot dead Archduke Ferdinand and his pregnant wife on June 28 1914. Austria immediately declared war on Sarajevo: mother Russia came to the rescue and declared war on Austria – and World War 1 had started! Kazam, justlikethat! The blame was laid at the feet of Sarajevo (although I am sure the guns were already loaded and ready for the first excuse). Fascinating.
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