Plunging into cold deep clear water

Up early to get a train to an iconic bridge.

 

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There was a reason why we chose our apartment in Sarajevo, it wasn’t for the view, although it was interesting. It happened to overlook the compound that was the American embassy. No doubt, in year one by, this would have been heavily fortified, with numerous military personnel taking in the European culture. Now perhaps, it is protected by cheaper private security companies, mercenaries and maybe the Bosnian and Herzegovinian military or police. We were warned by our host that if we took photographs military personnel would come to remove them. I think they had better things on their minds, drinking tea, Hillary Clinton’s emails or the Trump effect.

No, the real reason, was the proximity to the railway station. This morning we were off again, to Mostar. We had a choice; by bus or by rail. We always prefer rail.

Our accommodation had a concrete communist slab block appeal to it from the exterior, but inside it was clean and white.

There were four rooms with two bathrooms, ours wasn’t en-suite but we had sole use of it. In fact we had sole use of the whole apartment, the other rooms were vacant.

Maybe the radio was from back in the Tito era, only offering a single channel of propaganda.

So we were up early in our apartment. The owners dad was here to make sure we returned the keys, then it was a short walk across the road to the station.

Once on the train, we found a compartment where we could share a window seat. There was just one other occupant, another tourist from Asia who slept or played on his mobile for the length of the journey, missing all the amazing landscapes as they wandered past the window.

There is a certain freedom about train travel. The unhurried nature of it. The engineering as it ploughs through hillsides or snakes through the landscape. The ability to get up and move around. You also get the feeling it is much safer. Coach drivers scare the living daylights out of me. No, we prefer the train.

Somehow it always feels more remote than a road.

You become a voyeur, looking into villagers life.

The hilly and mountainous scenery continued, green, plastered with pine trees, against a blue, blue sky.

Eventually we dropped into a valley, to follow a river. The most turquoise green, clear river you could imagine.

Was this a river or a lake, surely there must be some human intervention here. A dam to generate power or control flooding.

The lake/ river went on and on, kilometre after kilometre.

Photo tip, try not to take through glass. Notice the difference between this one and the next.

Here, the colours are much more realistic, and there is less reflection. We had to force open a window though.

Absolutely stunning

We never did get to see if there was a dam, although I expect so. I also could not pick it out on Google maps. Tracking our rail journeys is probably the most difficult bit of updating the route on the blog, it is so difficult to see where they go.

We arrive in Mostar. We have just a few hours to see the town, but it is small so the few sites we want to see should not be a problem.

First we need to get our onward ticket back to Split. The journey takes about five hours, depending on the border, and there is a bus at 1:15pm that is perfect. The bus station is right next to the train station, we thought it was going to be across town, this couldn’t be easier. We leave our luggage behind the counter and walk into town.

Mostar was heavily contested in the battles between the Serbs and the Bosnians and derelict buildings still litter the town.

But sometimes it is difficult to know if this is damage inflicted by the war, or just partial demolition.

We know this one is conflict damage, it is one of the macabre ‘sights’ listed in our guide.

Is the front bit modern? If so what are they doing with the carcass left from the war, a monument?

Is that the same river we followed in the train? By the colour it looks like it could be.

Another carcass of a building which now has no purpose except to collect litter and graffiti. A permanent reminder to the inhabitants of the town of the atrocities that were committed, or a spectacle for the tourists, like us, to gawp at.

The trouble is you get to imagine that every derelict building is part of this towns tragic past.

We are heading back towards the river now towards the towns most famous and infamous spot.

And as you would expect, as we descend the level of tourism increases.

The buildings, even here, look pretty ramshackled. Perhaps they are looking for that appealing ‘tourist chic’ to draw in the crowds.

Well it certainly seems to have worked.

And this is what everyone has come to see, a stone bridge that has been faithfully put back. Stone by stone, it has hard to believe that it was completely destroyed by bombing.

This is a great vantage point, but we need to get down there to the waters edge. Apparently, this is the coldest of rivers in the country, but I think the view of the bridge from the river bank will show off its elegance.

Now that is a cool bit of ancient engineering. You can still just see where it was destroyed and the new dovetails into the old.

Yep, that is cold. My poor feet do not stay in there for long.

And it is crystal clear.

People seem to be congregating up there, maybe we should go and see what is going on.

There is quiet a commotion as this young man goes through a dramatic warm up procedure.

He climbs over the barriers.

He climbs back again.

His assistant gets two bottles of water from a local tap.

This is then ceremoniously poured over him.

Numerous stretching exercises are performed.

A bowl is handed around until enough money is raised.

And then….

From up here.

He jumps.

 

 

On the other side of the bridge, this tour group has just missed the show. They are being encouraged to purchase some unique, only can be found in Mostar tat that is produced in China. It is quite ironic really, many of the tour groups are Asian in origin. Perhaps they don’t purchase this stuff, knowing it is much cheaper, without the mark up, back home!

What it most frustrating, is that these have no awareness that they are completely blocking the whole street. Like a herd of sheep, they listen to the guides twaddle, completely oblivious to others around them, no spatial awareness at all. You can but push through them. I blame the guides, they are the herders of their sheep.

Another delightful view of that amazing bridge further up the street.

It is always fun mocking other tourists. Can you believe this guy is lugging around his guitar, while backpacking. I wonder at what point on his travels did he realise this was completely a stupid idea, the departure lounge. Maybe he thinks he can earn money, or maybe he just irritates his fellow hostel guests, strumming away of an evening. Come ever heard of a mobile phone, get yourself a guitar app if you want to learn an instrument, far more practical, you can even take selfies with it.

We have also seen quite a few skateboards strapped to rucksacks, and those large juggling pins (not sure what they are really called). Now again maybe he thinks the deluded fool could earn money, but he only has three, better do better than that, you need at least six to be impressive, why not take half a dozen balls.

But like the guitar, perhaps it just doesn’t make the right ‘look at me’ statement.

Lovely ceramics, would look lovely of the mantelpiece. No it wouldn’t, we don’t have a mantelpiece.

Or some bashed metal trays, those Chinese really know how to bash metal!

Mass produced scarves in silk, hand printed in Mostar, my arse.

Presumably they do actually sell this junk. Does it actually get home, or does it go straight to landfill. I am not sure what is worse.

Shrapnel damage, who knows. The is an air of depressing about this place. Time to move on, time to go and find Dora back in Split.

But first, one last carcass.

We are well trained now. At the bus station, Susana fights until she is first in the queue, and gets us two seats.

I’ve learnt from Niksic. Believe me, it won’t happen again. SM.

The bus is just half full!

We have travelled far over the last eleven days. We are exhausted. Our holiday from our holidays are really tiring. At least we have a long bus journey to doze on.

But how can you doze as you pass up the amazing Croatian coast.

Beautiful, if it wasn’t, well, just so crowded.

Eventually we near Split and the bus pulls into the bus station, down near the harbour, near the ferries from which we left such a long time ago.

We walk back past the Old Town around the marina, not really saying much to each other, but we both know what each other is thinking.

This is the longest time we have left Dora and this time she has not been looked after.

We both hesitate as we round the last corner…

But there she is, safe and well.

We drive off, up the coast to find a place to spend the night, once again back home.

GDR