Flying Solo in Sarajevo
Weather: No highs, no lows.
CD: The bus ride through Bosnia was intensely silent. No radio. No conversation. A group of large, serious looking Slavic men eyed all going-abouts from the back seat. I can think of nothing more intimidating than large Slavic men staring silently into a crowd.
Sarajevo’s Calling and it’s not as intimidating as I’d anticipated. We pulled into town yesterday and I was warned to keep all items close to my body and to “NOT step off the pavement” for fear of unexploded landmines. No landmines found, but I haven’t touched a blade of grass in 24 hours (At one point I had to cross a strip of grass seperating the street from the sidewalk and carefully stepped on the footprints already imprinted in the mud next to the lawn… never can be too safe!).
Recently it’s been a celebration of the lowering of my auto insurance bills. That’s right ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to welcome you all to the 25 years of my existence. Quite the feat, I know… It’s been one helluva ride and what better way to celebrate the 25th anniversary than living it up in the Balkans.
The initial celebrations kicked off Wednesday night in Split, Croatia. I managed to meet up with a couple of kids I’d met out on the beach in Dubrovnik and we, along with a couple other assorted kids from the hostel enjoyed a cool beer at a pub inside the palace. Around midnight ALL the bars in Split closed, leaving me to ring in the new year on the streets outside of Dioclesian’s Palace. We weren’t resigned to go back just yet however and embarked instead on the great beer hunt. Rumor had it there was a pub on the beach that would still be serving alcohol, so we made the trek down there, only to have the doorman deny us entry into the “private party”. He offered to get us into the next bar however, and even got us free entry. This bar, Pascha, advertised as a “Night Club and Piano Bar” was conspicuously missing a piano and in its place had women dancing naked on stage. Remember, we’re a group of six, three girls, three guys, he had no idea it was my birthday, and he honestly thought that we would enjoy an evening in a nudie bar. Gotta love East Europe. To give you an idea of the dire cirecumstances of our alcoholic cravings, we were going to stay… until we noticed beers cost seven Euros and embarked once again on the great search. A gas station eventually provided us with several liters of beer and we enjoyed them on the sea side while staring up at the stars.
I arrived in Sarajevo on the 20th and promptly met up with a couple of NYU kids I’d met on a beach on one of the islands in the Adriatic. Great kids and we’ll be seeing each other again… they’re studying in New York. After dining on filet minion (six Euros… God bless East Europe), we enjoyed a couple of freshly brewed beers and a couple of laughs in a nice brewery in town. I then retired to the most luxurious hostel I’ve ever imagined (digital cable, house slippers and a little chocolate on my pillow. Greatest service ever as well) and awoke to encounter my first full day in my 25th year.
The day was spent wandering the streets of Sarajevo, streets that still show a remarkable amount of damage from the war. The surprising facet of everything for me however, was the sense of normalcy that seemed to accompany everything. Yet at the same time there was always a feeling that anything could happen at any moment. It’s exactly how I imagined Berlin to feel a few months after the Wall come tumbling down. I never felt threatened (and was actually surprised with the friendliness of the people of the city) with the exception of a stroll down “Sniper Alley”, an ominous rememberence of the War. Massive Communist buildings towered over the alley made of broken concrete still battered from the mortor shells that once exploded there on a regular basis. Just imagining the fear involved in walking down this street just a few years ago was enough to completely exhaust me.
The afternoon was spent wandering the Old Town, a very comfortable and multi-cultural part of town. I accidently wandered into a mosque during prayer and was pulled into the bowings and standings of an Islamic prayer meeting. The next church over was the Serbian Eastern Orthodox church and again, I found myself in the middle of a prayer meeting. The Synagogue was closed, so no Yamicas for the day, but I still like to feel as if I covered all of my bases.
Tonite I begin the long journey home. Night bus to Zagreb. Then to Budapest. Then… I’ll let you know in a couple of days.