Chapter Thirteen: Bosnia and Herzegovina (Sarajevo, Mostar & Almost Neum)

Where to start? We are on a bus leaving Bosnia as I write. We spent the last week here and it has been lovely.
Just driving into the country on the seven hour trip from Serbia was beautifully scenic. Bosnia is incredibly mountainous and rife with clear blue streams running through it.
We had a quick overnight in Sarajevo, to break up the journey (where we had our first Cevapi, a.k.a. Cevapci, a.k.a. Cevapcici, a.k.a. Delicious grilled veal patties in a pita with far too many onions for a romantic getaway but extremely tasty nonetheless… but I digress), then onward the next morning (after yet more cevapi as we awaited our bus) to the old town of Mostar, most famously known for its Stari Most (old bridge) in the center.

We arrived on a Saturday and it was swimming with tourists. We were lucky to find a small restaurant just tucked out the way of the busyness, with a veranda that overlooked the river passing through the town. We soon became regulars and our kindly waiter even greeted us twice with shots of rakya (“cherry for lady, apple for man”). We even ordered things other than cevapi- though not exclusively.

Mostar is a beautiful town and thrives on tourism, but after a hike up the mountain (largely on paved road) and a few ice cream cones, we had seen the bulk of it, and decided to plan a day trip to the coastal town of Neum, where we could infuse our vacation with some much-needed beach time.

Unfortunately for us, what we did not realize was that the bus to the Bosnian coast passes through Croatia en route, which is not the only way to get to Neum, but, apparently, it was the quickest. And Jasper and I, being diligent little travelers, left out passports hidden safely away in our hotels. The border officer did not appreciate our sense of diligence nor did he find our confused misstep endearing. We were told, by means of a grunt and a nod, to get off the bus upon arriving at the Croatian border. We were then interrogated, by several officers, as to how we could be so stupid as to think that we would be able to enter a country without a passport. They demanded 300€ of us for our mistake, and, when we said we did not have that much money on us (“but half, actually” -Mr. Andrews, Titanic), they threatened to take us in to the station. At this point, I started to get watery eyed (which, both Jasper and I agreed, was a strategic play) and, eventually, one of the younger officers relented and allowed us to go back to Bosnia on the next bus through, claiming “we were just [stupid] tourists.” Okay, I added the word stupid, but, trust me, it was implied. We nervously awaited the next bus, avoiding eye contact with anyone who had the authority to change their mind on this verdict, and got out of there some twenty minutes later. We arrived back in Mostar three and a half hours after leaving, forty dollars poorer and beachless, and decided we may have booked one overnight too many.

The next day we attempted to go to the public pool, only to find it closed. We consoled ourselves over some cevapi and ice cream, meandered around the town, and stopped for many ‘drink and reading’ breaks. All in all, there are much worse ways to spend a work week.

We returned to Sarajevo the next day, where we planned three nights, 2.5 days. It was the right amount of time to take things at a leisurely pace. We made a couple of dinners in with some wine and movies, and explored all that we had flagged in the town. We had a couple of walking tours of the old town. We stopped on a rainy day at a hookah bar for shisha and Bosnian coffee (which looks much better than it tastes- though apparently tradition has it that you should flip over your cup when finished and then ‘read’ the grounds to see your fortune. My fortune looked like a velocitaptor, whatever that means).

We had nibbles and bites around town and met some friendly locals and we visited a haunting yet top notch exhibit on the genocide in Srebrenica. We also visited a comically small museum on Bosnia’s role in the lead up to the first world war, situated right outside the bridge where Franz Ferdinand was famously assassinated, along with his pregnant wife, Sophie. And to boot we were there for the start of Ramadan and each sundown was marked by the shooting of a cannon

Sarajevo is a beautiful city, with a mountainous backdrop and vibrant atmosphere. The old town is a bustling meeting spot for tourists and locals alike and brimming with small coffee shops and eateries and with outdoor sofas and lounge areas. Much of the city has been rebuilt since the war, though there are still relics of it, such as bullet -ridden walls and red paint-adorned fallout marks on the sidewalks, to remind passersby of what they have endured and how far they have come. ❤

Chapter Twelve: Belgrade

Belgrade was bleak. It’s hard to know what to expect of a country that has recently waged and lost a brutal war, and I don’t plan on getting into any of the politics of it,  but it definitely had and air of grim sobriety to it. So I am giving it its own post as it is so unlike what I have seen of Bosnia, where we have just entered.

We spent less than two days in Belgrade but I was thankful we did not dedicate more time. It seemed sufficient to explore the key monuments, the old fortress and copper-topped basilica as well as the nicer pedestrian streets.

We got stuck in a downpour on our first evening and showed up, drenched, to a cozy little Serbian restaurant, which was just what the doctor ordered. We shared Serbian salad (very Mediterranean influenced) and some main dishes of spicy meat balls and sausage with spicy sauerkraut, washed down with two steins of Lav beer.

Day two was city exploration day and we saw a mix of bustling neighborhoods and dilapidated apartments and infrastructure, with far more of the latter. Though, to its credit, the city seemed to liven up at night, when the streets busied, the restaurants boomed and you are greeted by the smell of grilled street meat and the sound of live music. Known as a party city, the clubs seemed to be popular, despite the solemn atmosphere by day. We grabbed a couple of Serbian burgers in fresh pitas with mixed salads and a spicy cheese spread, which, with a coke amounted to about $2.50 CAD each. One thing the Balkans are at no shortage of is cheap grilled meats. I guess I will have to start being a weekday vegetarian after this trip…

Chapter Eleven: Vienna and Budapest

Up until now, I have written a lot about travel, a fair amount about food and a little about love. Well that is about to change as my long awaited travel companion, and partner in crime, Jasper, is finally by my side. Well… For the next two weeks anyway, and then officially as of July 6. I have enjoyed my solo travels and made the most of my time but I am quite happy to finally have my love with me to start our epic adventure together.

Despite coming down with a pesky cold that won’t quit, we had a lovely four days in Vienna and Budapest. Jasper has decided that Vienna is the most beautiful city in the world and has been champing at the bit to get me there for some time (as I have otherwise only spent a tumultuous overnight in Vienna sleeping on the train station floor). I must say, it was stunningly beautiful. Grand, white and pristine, Vienna is the epitome of opulence and luxury; it takes little imagination to envision the empire it once was. It seemed everywhere we turned, we were greeted by giant museums, elegant palaces and sprawling gardens.

And what does one eat in such a city? Well we had to indulge in a Sachertorte and coffee, of course, while a string band played classical hits in the Stadtpark. It was so nice I didn’t even mind the cheesiness. 😊  And speaking of cheese, we also had local Viennese sausages which have cheese throughout them that ooze onto your plate when you cut in. Mmmm. I also couldn’t resist another gröestl, which pairs perfectly with a stein of lager. Those Austrians know what they are doing!

 

 

On to Budapest, where we immediately noticed an easing on our wallets, having escaped the euro zone. Arriving in the early evening, we dropped our bags at the apartment we rented and headed out to explore.

Budapest has the grandeur that we saw in Vienna but in place of the refinery is a more colorful rustic atmosphere that feels reminiscent not only of the former Austro-Hungarian empire but also eastern undertones of the Ottoman empire. It was, quite simply, stunning.

We walked along the Danube river, which followed us from Vienna and would take us to Belgrade afterward. On each side of the water (formerly the division of Buda and Pest, Jasper informs me), there are major sights to behold. Parliament, the royal palace, the citadel, the fisherman’s bastion, and the many colourful administrative buildings dotted along. The bridges themselves are a sight to behold, as is the main basilica in the city centre. Not to mention, ice cream cones were only a dollar…

So on with the food! We tried two of the region’s main dishes: Beef goulash (which was more soup than stew and also perfect for a tourist with a head cold!) and chicken in paprika sauce with dumplings. Even with a plugged nose, they were very nice. We also tried some pastries, of course, to get the full experience.

On to Belgrade via an eight hour train ride in the morning!

Chapter Ten: Ireland & the UK

In a slight veer off course from the original plan, I have spent the last two weeks making my way around Ireland, Northern Ireland and Scotland. And it has simultaneously been two things: beautiful and rainy.

I arrived in Dublin a couple of weeks ago eager to test out my sea legs (read: ankle). I immediately liked the city though it was a bit gritty. I’m not sure if the song Dirty Old Town was written specifically about Dublin, but it might well have been. I was joined the next day by my friend Agatha, who bravely drove us to Cork and Blarney on the wrong side of the road. Following in my parents’ footsteps some thirty years later, we kissed the blarney stone. We explored castles, enjoyed the rolling fields and the vast, inescapably dense greenness of everything around us. And we ate! Fish & chips, shepherds’ pie, daily tea and scones and hearty soups. It was very refreshing to see someone from home and was so lovely to spend four days together. Cork is a fun university town and Blarney is quaint and charming. We did not have to search hard to find live traditional music and pints of Guinness everywhere we went. It was a great visit.

When Agatha left I was once again on my own. I spent a cool damp day wandering Dublin then lit out the next day. Nice a city as it is, it was so overrun with tourists (which I realize is a very hypocritical complaint) and you had the sense that it was raining constantly, even when it wasn’t. There is just a heavy wetness that clings to the air.
So I made my way to Galway. I have since been blessed with relatively little rain and even a few sunny days.

Galway is fantastic and my time there was the highlight of my Irish visit. Brimming with small pubs with live music bursting out of them, I got to hear many of the Irish favorites that I came here for. Though, ironically, Galway Girl was not one of them. (Not only did I hear, but I passed through the beautiful Fields of Athenry.)

I took a day trip to the cliffs of Moher which are nothing short of majestic. And was blessed with sun, to boot.

After Galway, I headed to the north. I spent a couple of days in Belfast. I didn’t warm up to it immediately but by day two it had won me over. Chalk full of politics, artsy alleyways and secret little beergardens, it certainly held its own. I toured the political murals, the peace wall, the local jail which is now a museum, and, of course, the Titanic Quarter. This was essentially a pilgrimage for me as I am really into the history of titanic (which, in itself, is bit of an understatement). It was fascinating to see the harbour where there ship first launched and read all about the pulse of the city at the time. While munching on a sausage roll.

A day and a half was sufficient for me to see the main points of interest, though if I went back I would also do the Game of Thrones tour of surrounding Belfast, a.k.a. Winterfell.

A hop, skip and a jump (two busses and a ferry) later and I am now writing from Edinburgh. I met a nice man on the ferry across who offered to show me around the port area. However, I didn’t realize that until he’d said so three times as the Scottish accent is practically another language. In any case, my bus was booked, so I politely declined.

Upon arrival, I was so glad that I decided to cram this stop into my trip. Everywhere I looked, I was floored by beautiful, historic buildings in a backdrop of green hills dotted with yellow wildflower bushes. It is a truly magical city.

I made the most of my short time here, though I could have certainly used another day. I did a (rainy) walking tour around the old town and saw the castle perched up on an inactive volcano. I hiked (carefully) to Arthur’s Seat which is a lookout point atop yet another inactive volcano. I highly recommend this to anyone going as the views were spectacular. I stopped in a dainty little tea house for a ‘cuppa’ along with a scone and shortbread (it was a cultural experience!) and visited a couple of the many free museums the city has to offer. For my last night’s dinner, I had scoped out a cozy little pub around the corner offering the Scottish delicacy of Haggis, which, if you don’t know, is essentially the ground innards of a sheep, along with oats in a meatloaf-style dish. But, when in Rome… So I arrived last night ready to give it a go, and what do you know, they’d sold out of haggis. The warm coziness and close proximity to my hostel in the rain coaxed me out of searching elsewhere so I settled instead for a warm steak and gravy pie with mushy peas. I probably enjoyed it more and I have had haggis once before at a Rabby Burns party. In any case, I forgot my phone back in the room to charge, so I don’t have a photo. And I mean, if you aren’t having haggis for the photo opt, what’s the point, really?!

I woke up to more rain and decided to get an early start to the airport, where I am now writing. I am en route to beautiful, warm, romantic Vienna, where I am meeting, for the first time in 2.5 months, my Jasper. Needless to say, I am very excited. Smiling face with smiling eyesHeavy black heart