Sarajevo, part I

After a sleepy goodbye to my sister, I boarded a long 9 hour bus ride from Zagreb to Sarajevo. I added Sarajevo onto the itinerary for no real reason other than a strong feeling. And perhaps seeing the bridge where Archduke Franz Ferdinand was shot, thus beginning WWI. Quick recap, in case you dont remember your 6th grade history lesson on this: On June 28, 1914, a group of Serbian nationalists were planning on assassinating Austro-Hungarian Archduke Franz Ferdinand while on a motorcade through Sarajevo. But their bomb missed his car and instead injured a bunch of people on the parade route. Franz Ferdinand quickly finished up his meeting at City Hall and insisted on being taken to see "his people" at the hospital. But before days of cell phones and GPS, his driver thought that he was still being taken to lunch. So his route was a bit confused, and just so happened that Gavrilo Princip was eating a sandwich on the corner when the car stopped and reversed to get back on course. Quickly, he pulled out his revolvers with 3 bullets - one for Sofie, one for Franz Ferdinand, and one for himself. He succeeded with the first two bullets but jammed on the third. So he was tried and ended up dying in jail shortly thereafter.

Approaching Sarajevo, you see tons of homes and buildings still damaged during the Bosnia-Serbia conflict. I mean houses with roofs gone, buildings bombed out, and home after home just full of bullet holes. Other than the remnants of the war, Sarajevo strikes me as a very alive. It has a soul and history that rivals even Berlin. At a fraction of the cost. I immediately met so many friendly Bosnians and expats whose warmness made me feel welcome, even in the brisk fall weather. The only thing missing was a winter coat. Alas, I quckly got offers to help me coat shop too.

I was surprised by the friendliness of the hostel workers - they gave me tangerines, great recommendations on a nearby gym with exercise classes, and overall easygoing pesonalities. After the hot and cold attitudes of Croatians, where sometimes you were afraid to ask them questions, the smiles and sincerity of Bosnians go a long way. For gods sake, the currency exchange man even offered to help find me a job after I told him how impressed I was by Sarajevo!

I went out to grab a bit to eat, and soon learned that Bosnia isnt as touristy as Croatia (read: the menus are in Bosnian and only Bosnian). Luckily I got by enough with English and German to determine that the only food most places served was Ćevapčići, which are these weird little meat fingers that look like sausages. It was cold out and I was losing hope. I walked into a place that appeared to have pizza (although am so sick of pizza but my odd fear of meats makes pizza the only option most places). No pizza. But the super nice Bosnian guy spoke good English and walked me to a cozy local place and ordered me some yummy chicken stew-ish dish. When the meal came, my neighbors ordered me water and soon became my first friends in Sarajevo and we made plans to meet up the next day for coat shopping and dinner.

I hustled back to the hostel and sat down to see if Fabian had written and found myself in a long conversation with Christian, an intelligent young Colombian from Cali with perfect english. Another Latin man. Shocker. But then again, maybe I should just start referring to my quirky, unspecified personality traits as Latin Magnetism instead of Grasso Charm.

Anyhow, I had just eaten, but agreed to go out to get a drink with Christian. It was going to be an early night, because Christian has a 7am train the next day, and I had vowed a self-imposed detox after way too much drinking in Croatia with Fabian and my sister. Christian was sick of the weird meat fingers too, so we went to a Mexican place called Hacienda just to grab a snack and found ourselves knee deep in absinthe. After a while, it was a full on club full of fashionable young Bosnians (no, we werent hallucinating from the absinthe).

On the way back to the hostel, we stopped at the unfortunately named Cheers Bar for one final drink and immediately got absorbed into a group of locals lead by Selma and Verdad (sp?). We were carted off to various crowded bars and clubs until we finally arrived at the kind of club I like. The one you need to either know someone or sweet-talk your way into. Luckily we had both on our side. We got pulled inside Sloga and Christian and I just kept looking at each other as the live Bosnian music blared and all of these beautiful young Bosnians were singing along, dancing like no tomorrow. Well, when we looked at our watches we realized it WAS tomorrow and after 3am so we decided to be responsible adults and call it a night.

I am really excited about the energy in Sarajevo, so plan on staying here for a little bit with all of my new Bosnian friends. Well, as long as I can find a coat...