Backpacker BUZZ: Issue 74, Salsa With The Sarajevans

Sarajevo has only been on my radar for a short time. One day a few years ago, at an old, very boring job, I had a habit of Wikipedia-ing random cities around the world that I knew little about. When I searched for Sarajevo, two bits of information stuck in my head.

1) It hosted the 1984 Winter Olympics (I was one-and-a-half when this happened), and 2) The city is dotted with imprints of mortar shell explosion that look strangely like roses, called Sarajevo Roses, which are small memorials to the victims of the 1992-1995 military siege. Many of them have been filled with red cement to denote the site of an attack that left more than one person dead.

It’s that kind of subtle recognition of the past that put Sarajevo toward the top of my must-visit list.

I entered Bosnia-Herzegovina from Croatia. Just as we passed the border, the terrain turned to lush, forested mountains crowding on top of flat lakes with houses perched up the hillsides. I didn’t know what to expect, but whatever it was, this exceeded it. The only downside to this incredible landscape is that an estimated one million land mines are still in Bosnian territory, so venturing into the wilderness here requires careful consultation and the advice of a knowledgeable guide. That said, there are plenty of outdoor activities to enjoy. But I was heading to the heart of the country, Sarajevo.

First things first, I wandered around the streets—a mix of cafe-lined cosmopolitan streets and a cobble-stoned Turkish Quarter.  I took a walk down Sniper Alley in front of the Holiday Inn, where foreign journalists camped out during the war. The road in front, a main artery through the city, was a primary target of Serbian snipers in the surrounding hills. Across the street, the History Museum has an interesting exhibit on the war with a collection of photos and artifacts. What struck me most was the photos were in colour, and the kids in them were wearing the same kind of clothes I wore in the early-90s. The difference is that I wore them while playing in my backyard, while these kids wore them as they burrowed in their mothers’ arms, as they were dashed across open streets hoping to get to the other side alive.

Obviously, wars are still being fought but you’d hope these sort of devastating human acts are the stuff of days gone by, “back when we didn’t know any better,” or back, at least, when photos were black and white.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, March 2nd, 2010 at 4:59 pm and is filed under Hostelling International. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a comment, or trackback from your own site. Add to del.icio.us.