Nikola, Two-Face, and the Dead Duke

Sarajevo is weird. And I love that about Sarajevo. I love the quirky decorations, the sense of humor, and the odd ways they commemorate things.

I just liked the view of the snowy trees on the mountains

We went out exploring on Christmas Day. One lovely thing about Sarajevo is that things are open. It is a city of many peoples. The Croats are primarily Roman Catholic, so Croat owned businesses were closed on Christmas. But the Serbs are Eastern Orthodox and celebrate their Christmas in January. And the Bosniaks, who make up the majority of the population of the city, are primarily Muslim, so Christmas is just another day. That's fantastic for me, because I wanted to use my few days in Sarajevo to see what I could see, eat what I could eat, and enjoy what I could enjoy. (Plus, for me, along with almost 70% of the world's population, Christmas is just another day.)

For lunch, we started with gelato. I know that usually gelato is not considered an appetizer, but we were passing one of Syarra's favorite gelato places on our way to one of her favorite lunch places. You wouldn't expect us to go back and forth, would you? After yummy gelato we moved on and had pasta for lunch. And then we still stopped at a slaštičarna, which is a sweet shop, where one buys desserts. We tried tufahija, a traditional dessert made of an apple soaked in simple syrup and stuffed with cream and nuts. This is only one of many amazing desserts you can try in this country. We also enjoyed tulumbe (which is a fried dough dessert with a star shape somewhat like churros, though tulumbe is not filled like a churro) and hurmašica which is another cake soaked in simple syrup. Let's say this: If you like dessert, then you will find lots of please you in Bosnia.

This is bear territory

Both sides of the street are bear territory

Walking about with our full and satisfied stomachs, we found a bar protected by bears. It was actually one on each side of the street. And sitting nearby was Nikola Tesla.

Just inventing something else brilliant, don't mind me.

That's right, Tesla, the genius behind alternating current, Tesla coils, and plasma was just chilling (somewhat literally as it is winter) in Sarajevo.

Continuing on we found a large snowman. Someone or someones had collected up the snow in a particular street and turned it into this snowman. But this was no ordinary snowman. Here is what we saw as we approached. (Note: he has buttons on his non-existent shirt.)

I'm so fancy!

But when you walked past the snowman and turned back to see him, he had another front side! That's right, this snowman has two faces (and two chests for non-existent shirt buttons with the shirt being the non-existent part and the buttons existing.)

I'm fancy too, but less happy about it

Finally, we visited the Latin Bridge. This is a very cute bridge from the Ottoman era. But it is most famous for what happened there. This is where Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife, Sofia, were riding when they were assassinated by Gavrilo Principe. It was this event which sparked the War to End All Wars (the first world war, which apparently did not end all wars, since there was a second world war.)

Over troubled waters?

Here you can see the footprints marking the spot that Principe stood as he shot the Archduke and Archduchess. (I assume the wife of an archduke is an archduchess, but maybe she is a catenaryduchess or a paraboladuchess.)

Even the snow doesn't want to stand there

One thing we didn't get to see much of are the Sarajevo roses. During the siege of Sarajevo, there were many bombings and other violence. Places where three or more people were killed by a mortar blast were then marked. The mortars left these scars in the pavement, and Sarajevo later filled them with red resin to commemorate the loss. But because these scar patterns are vaguely floral in arrangement, they have come to be known as Sarajevo roses. We didn't see these because there was a layer of snow or slush over the streets, so the roses were hidden away.

The next day we headed out of Sarajevo, taking a bus to Podgorica, Montenegro. That was over six hours on a bus. But we did get two breaks and we got out twice to cross the border. We all exited the bus with our passports, made a line, walked to the border control station in Bosnia, and got stamped out of the country. Then we got back on the bus, crossed a bridge, drove about a kilometer more, and repeated the line up to get our passports stamped into Montenegro. Some of the people on the bus have cards instead of passports, probably because they cross often enough that they don't need stamps over and over. Imagine if the bus driver had to get new stamps everyday. He would go through a lot of passports.

A single lane bridge that connects two countries

It was a short trip to Sarajevo, but a fun one. Now we will see if Podgorica is as weird as its neighboring capital city.

Unexpected Dog on Roof

I am not like Bing. Or Rosemary. I mean Crosby and Clooney, respectively. Because they were dreaming of a white Christmas. Not only was I not dreaming of a white Christmas, had you asked me a week ago (or even today) I would have voiced a preference for a Christmas lacking in any sort of frozen precipitation, snow, slush, sleet, or freezing rain (which should start with the letter s if it wants to fit its companions).

Intellectually, I can understand the appeal of a white Christmas. It is very lovely to see the barren trees with snow on all the branches, to see the fields as blankets of white. I'm sure Santa's sleigh has a much easier time taking off from rooftops with powder to reduce the friction between runners and shingles. But for me, it is a question of footwear. I didn't want to experience a white Christmas because I just don't have the appropriate footwear for snow.

Alrica and I carry everything we own on our backs. I don't have any shoes packed. The only shoes I have are the New Balance sneakers I wear. This means they have a rough life. When I hike, they hike. When I walk long distances (which is very much like hiking) they walk long distances. When I step in a puddle, they step in a puddle. And when I walk through the snow, they walk through the snow. But the whole idea is that I shouldn't be walking through the snow. And yet, here I am.

That dark figure on the right is Alrica.

But where am I? Sarajevo, Bosnia. Which has, in the past two days, gotten about ten inches of snow.

Why am I here? Yes, the plan had been to avoid winter, because we weren't packing for winter. But Syarra has come to spend her winter break with us. She wanted to go to places that spoke Bosnian/Croatian/Serbian, the language she learned when she spent her senior year abroad. And the place she spent it: Sarajevo. So we had to come for a few days to see where she lived, how she lived, and to experience this very impressive city that captured her heart. If only it hadn't decided to snow.

The birds got here before me

It leads to a lot of funny stories. (By funny, I don't necessarily mean humorous, though you may find them so as you are only reading them and not living them.)

Story One: getting here. We took a bus from Mostar into Sarajevo. That went great. The bus dropped us near a tram station and we took the tram to Sarajevo City Hall. All we had to do was walk from City Hall to the apartment where we are staying. Now Google says this is an eight minute walk and it is mostly flat. Let's chat, Google. What qualifies, in your extensive algorithms, as mostly flat? Does that just mean an absence of ladders or other vertical climbing implements? Because this walk is not flat. It is far from flat.

In normal circumstances, that wouldn't be a big deal. But add a couple inches of snow and shoes that aren't meant to be snow boots, and this far from flat becomes close to treacherous. (Lack of the proper winter tread, you see.)

One of many pretty places of worship here

We are staying in an apartment, but no one was going to be available to meet us when we arrived. No problem, the host explained where a key would be left for us. Except it wasn't there. There was a key, but apparently the communication about where said key would be kept had a bit of a disconnect between what we were told and reality. Now, the host did text Alrica last minute to tell us about the change. But we didn't have internet while we were frantically searching for the key. It wasn't until after Syarra, luckily, found the key, we got in, and then connected to the internet, that we learned where the key would be.

Story Two: the apartment itself. Our lodging is fine, there are beds and a bathroom and a kitchen, all good right. Even better, check out the washing machine. It has a five god guarantee! That's really good if we are thinking gods like Athena (who would totally know how to keep a washing machine running). Not so good if one of the gods is Loki who will make socks disappear and turn all the laundry pink for no reason except it amuses him.

And if you order now, you get not only one god, or two, but five!

But there are some oddities here which have nothing to do with divinity. For example, one of the bedroom has no outlets at all. No worries, I charge my devices in the kitchen. The double bed has a blanket which just fits the top of the double bed. There is no extra to hang down over the sides. Now if Alrica and I could just lay on our backs, fall into a cryogenic slumber, and never move, maybe this would work. Sadly, this is not our reality, and last night involved a battle for coverage. I wish I could report my absolute victory, but honestly, I think we both lost this one.

The shower is a fascinating little anomoly. You know the pull thing that changes from bath to shower, well, Superman, the Hulk, and probably Andre the Giant would have the strength to pull that thing without breaking a sweat. For me, there is sweating, there is grunting, there is gritting of teeth. Once you have it turned to the shower, not all of the spray comes out of the front of the shower head like you would hope. About half of it sprays out of the side like a peacock tail of water. This loss of water has the further effect of diminishing the pressure of that which does spray in the expected direction. But maybe getting less water isn't such a problem, because even when you get it, you don't always want it. Imagine spinning the Wheel of Fortune and that determines what temperature of water you are going to get. But there is a second Wheel of Fortune that determines how many seconds that temperature will last before another spin of both wheels must be accomplished again. Speaking like a mathematician (which is a thing we mathematicians do sometimes) I would say both the temperature and the duration of the temperature are independent random variables.

Story Three: Back to shoes. As I mentioned, I have only my sneakers. Syarra, likewise, has a pair of sneakers. But Alrica's shoes are even less conducive to snowy travel. Alrica has what she calls "river sandals." They are more shoey than sandals and more sandaly than shoes. (I know spell checker is going to object to both shoey and sandaly. Too bad, technology. You don't even know what "mostly flat" means, so grow your vocabulary!) The point is that while they are mostly closed, they have holes to let water in and out if you go walking in a river. (How often does Alrica walk in rivers? You should ask her. She chose the shoes.) So whereas my shoes get snowy and wet, and eventually that seeps into my socks and wrinkles my feet, at least the water has to work at it. For Alrica it is like, hey snow, free access to socks, go for it!

Mosque made even prettier with the snow

Before I go on with more so-called "funny" stories, let me tell you some of the wonders of Sarajevo. We did go out last night, even with the treacherous slippage and open access shoes. We went to Baščaršija, which is the Sarajevo Old Town. This long pedestrian only area has restaurants, museums, shops, churches, mosques, and other attractions. It is also beautifully decorated for Christmas. One famous item is the Sebilj (which is just pronounced Sehbee, I don't know what happened to the L. The letter J in Bosnian is like the Y in English.) This wooden water fountain has a spigot where the people can get free water! But it has become a symbol of Sarajevo. We had delicious doner for dinner, and then we split up. Syarra has a list of friends from her time in Sarajevo that she is getting together with. Alrica and I were left to explore on our own.

The Sebilj

We visited a very powerful, but disturbing, museum called Gallery 11/07/95. This is a reference to July 11, 1995 when the Srebrenica killings took place. This gallery was about the thousands of Muslim victims of the genocide that took place in Srebrenica, Bosnia, the aftermath, the failure of the international community to do anything about it, and the work to identify the remains found in mass graves throughout the region. Sometimes we need to remember terrible things so we don't let those same things happen again. This museum was a powerful story telling exhibit about this tragedy.

Okay, that changed the tone. Let's get back to funny stories.

Store Four: Today's excursion. We discovered at the apartment that there is one pair of boots here. So today when we went out, we thought maybe Alrica would wear those instead of her partial cover shoes. The problem was one of size. They are just way too big for her. So we got creative. I wore the boots. They are too big for me also, but not at much too big. And then Alrica wore my Horace and Shirley. (Now you are thinking I have added new characters to the tale. But actually, Horace and Shirley are the names of my shoes. Horace is the right shoe, Shirley is the left shoe. So now you are thinking, do you always name your shoes, Erich? Well, yes, but they are always named Horace and Shirley. When I get a new pair of shoes, the right one is named Horace and the left one Shirley. If I own more than one pair of shoes at a time, it is generally the main one, the one I wear most often, that has the names. Though if pressed to refer to one of the lesser worn shoes by name at any time, it would be Horace, were it a right shoe, or Shirley, were it a left one. And no, I did not name the boots I wore today Horace and Shirley, because they aren't my boots. My shoes, even when worn by Alrica, are still the ones named Horace and Shirley.) This meant both Alrica and I had our feet in vessels larger than optimal, but it also gave us both superior snow soakage protection.

Today, our big trek was across the entire city to reach the home of Syarra's host mother from her ten month study abroad year. Syarra wanted to visit her and Alrica and I wanted to meet her. The host mother is very sweet, though she doesn't speak any English. So Syarra got to play translator for the entire exchange. But before we get to that, I want to talk about UDOR.

On the way to the trolley bus which would take us across Sarajevo, we had to walk through the snowy streets. Then suddenly, without warning, there was barking... from above. There was a dog on the roof, letting us know that it was displeased with our proximity to the ground level of the house. While I am sure the dog probably already has a name, not knowing what it was, I named the dog UDOR, an acronym for Unexpected Dog on Roof.

Sit, UDOR, sit. Good dog.

It was nice to meet Syarra's host mother and to see the room which Syarra called her own for ten months. It was... cozy. (Isn't that the euphemism for small?) Now host mother is a very gracious host. She insisted we try Bosnian coffee, because that weak American stuff just doesn't count. Alrica rarely drinks coffee. I never do. But you can't say no, so today, I drank a cup of Bosnian coffee. It was served with delicious sweet cakes, so I got a hunk of cake in my mouth and used that to help disguise the bitterness of the coffee. But that wasn't generous enough, our hostess also had to give us fruit. She peeled oranges and handed them to us. Not the peels, but the fruit. So, oranges are another thing I don't tend to injest. I like orange juice, but there is something about the texture of orange slices that I find somewhat "ew". So I got to have coffee and oranges. Hooray. Still, our hostess was very sweet and very happy to see Syarra again.

Who's down with SCC?

Next we visited the Sarajevo City Center (SCC). This is a big mall, but it is always interesting to see how they are the same and different than our malls. Now I have a puzzle for you. Let's say you are going to the WC (the restroom) and you see this.

There is a missing second sign, isn't there?

Which side is the men's room and which side is the women's room? How are you supposed to interpret this?

I, very tentatively, decided on the left fork and crept in slowly, hoping I wouldn't get myself into legal trouble. First I saw hand dryers, not helpful. Then I saw sinks, again, that was not identifying. But after that I saw urinals and breathed a sigh of relief.

The truth is, in spite of the challenges, we are having a lot of fun. Sarajevo has a vibrant energy that I really like. And perhaps one day, not in winter, I would enjoy returning. But in the meantime I will enjoy what I can when I can. Tomorrow is Christmas and its going to be white, whether I want it that way or not.

White Christmas decorations

So to misquote Bing (or really Irving Berlin), "May your socks be cozy and dry! And may all your Christmases be full of unexpected adventures." (Admittedly, not my best lyric. Irving Berlin would not approve.)

The City's Bridge or the Bridge's City

When last I posted, I was in Czechia posting about Prague. Since then, Alrica and I have been in two more countries (though one hardly counts.) But we've also gained one more traveler (at least for a few weeks.) We flew from Prague to Belgrade, Serbia. There we met Syarra, visiting during her winter break. We stayed one night in Belgrade and then flew to Mostar, Bosnia.

Stari Most

The centerpiece of Mostar is a bridge. It is called Old Bridge, or in Bosnian that is Stari Most. It is such a defining feature of Mostar that the name of the city is comes from the word mostari, or bridgekeepers, which refers to the two towers, one on each side of the bridge. Because this isn't just the bridge of the city. In many ways this is the city of the bridge. The bridge made the city.

Alrica and Syarra and the bridge

In the fifteenth century, this area was on the frontier of the Ottoman Empire. Traders and travelers needed a way to cross the Neretva River in this land at the outskirts of the Ottoman Empire. A bridge was needed.

There were temporary wooden bridges, but they weren't good enough. So the Ottomans decided to build a stone bridge. First, they built a smaller bridge across a smaller waterway, the Radobolja River, which is a tributary of the Neretva. They wanted to test out their design and they liked it. This first structure is called the Crooked Bridge. Next, the Ottomans built the Old Bridge bridge, a technological marvel in its time with its semicircular underarch and peaked overarch, supported by the natural walls on either side of the river. There were also two towers built, one on each side of the river. The Crooked Bridge and Old Bridge are only about 100 feet from each other.

The Crooked Bridge

With this important crossing established, a frontier town developed. It was the Wild West of the Ottoman Empire, a pinch point for travelers who needed to get across the water. Beautiful Turkish houses were built here. There was a unique architecture in which mosques, churches, and synagogues were often built next to one another. People of different ethnic groups and faiths lived in relative harmony for centuries.

The symbol of Mostar is the Bridge (in a shield)

The area changed hands from the Ottomans to the Austro-Hungarian Empire, but everyday life in Mostar didn't change all that much. The bridge endured as did the people, until 1990.

Looking up from below (and there's me!)

After the death of Tito, the leader of Yugoslavia who had united several different Slavic groups as one identity, that unity didn't last. Wars broke out between the various peoples, atrocities occurred. And in Mostar, one of those atrocities was the destruction of the Old Bridge, the Crooked Bridge, and the historic city around it. The Croats wanted to demoralize the Bosniaks and to eliminate one of their supply lines, and so a beautiful piece of history was lost. At least temporarily.

After the Balkan War, much of Europe, which had sat by while the atrocities occurred, got involved, wanted to help the people who had suffered. Along with UNESCO, they invested money, time, and specialists, collecting as many pieces of the original bridge as they could, and they built a bridge as similar to the original as they could. They used only materials and technology that would have existed when the original Stari Most was made. The Crooked Bridge was also rebuilt as was much of the Old Town around the bridge. And today, the new Old Bridge spans the Neretva exactly as its counterpart had. It is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

The bridge has speed bumps to help you with traction

Since the bridge was rebuilt, in the summer months, young men from Mostar dive from the bridge into the cold Neretva below. They train for years to be able to do it, and apparently collect money from tourists to fund their attempts. At the end of July each year since 1968, an annual diving competition takes place off the bridge. We are here in December, so no one is diving from the bridge.

Here is a piece of history, risen again, giving Stari Most a new life and a new history that will hopefully last as long or even longer than the first.