Mostar, Bosnia and Herzegovina (Mostar, Bosna i Hercegovina)
In the morning we began a leisurely start to the day, but grew concerned when our texts and calls to Teo remained unanswered by the check out time of noon, and we had not yet paid. Eventually he rocked up and exclaimed "I forgot about you guys!" Despite his forgetfulness, I'm very glad to have met Teo and been given a tour of his city.
Our first stop on our own tour was the old town, where the iconic bridge Stari Most dominates most outside perceptions of the city.
Young local men frequently dive from the top of the bridge into the freezing 5m deep water below. Upon surfacing, they expect some moolah from tourists. Built in 1566 by the Turks, Stari Most (literally 'old bridge') was heartwrenchingly destroyed in the Bosnian War and subsequently rebuilt in 2004.
An exhibition of war photos was shown at a museum right next to the bridge. The photographer was Wade Goddard - a New Zealander! With no prior experience he turned up to Mostar in April 1992 to give photojournalism a try. What he captured were moments of turmoil and tragedy.
I won't go into detail about the war, but I suggest watching the BBC documentary 'The Death of Yugoslavia', which can be found in entirety on YouTube. It was immensely helpful for trying to understand a complex series of events and longstanding racial tensions.
Teo explained that the Turkish influence was alive and well in Mostar, as can be seen in many traditional foods served. Several cafés we passed in the old town were offering Turkish tea to accompany your hookah, and we ourselves partook in baklava and burek. When comparing the Bosnian to Slovenian burek, I found that they were both tasty fast food treats, and initially couldn't decide which was better: both were different versions of pastry filled with meat, potatoes and onions, or cheese. However, the Bosnian burek won out in the end as Teo promised it would.
It seems that although this part two isn't called 'Tales of Teo', it's full of Teoisms and interesting information he provided. For example, the above photo shows a fenced off building lot which declares itself a Jewish Synagogue. Apparently when the Jewish community asked the government if they could build a synagogue, they were provided with the money and the space with which to begin construction. But as soon as they tried to build there, they were told that although they had the means, they did not have permission! That beurocracy could rival the best French offices.
Each street reminded us of the war. Everywhere you looked, you would see bombed out buildings with holes gaping where their windows and the roof once were.
Even in buildings that had not been abandoned, the scars from gunfire were blatant.
Road signs and even museums stood broken and empty, faded with age. Even in years to come,
when all the bullet holes are plastered over, memories of the splitting of the former Yugoslavia will still remain. Yet in a city ripped apart by war, it was difficult to feel sad when the inhabitants carry on their lives cheerfully.
We may have delved into a "building of broken glass" as my dad says (his email read "it's too late for me to tell you, but 'Nooo, don't go in!'"), but the scariest part of our trip into Bosnia-Herzegovina was the potential of undetonated mines lurking right off the road. We had been advised not to stray from known rest stops, which we abided with all due caution.
It was the briefest of visits to Bosnia and Herzegovina, and I would like to learn and experience so much more of their history and culture. I know I've been saying this plenty, but I'll be back!
No comments:
Post a Comment