Memorable Mostar
Outing to Mostar, Bosnia and Herzegovina
The Dynamic Duo threw an overnight bag in the car and, leaving the caravan behind in Stobreč, set off for Mostar in Bosnia and Herzegovina. Not a bad idea at all, especially as it was only a couple of hours drive away. I was quite curious as to what was in store for us.
Well, in spite of having travelled such a short distance it felt like we had arrived in a different world! The Oldies were lucky enough to find a place to stay in the eastern and predominantly Muslim side of town, although we had arrived during Ramadan. The sights, sounds and smells certainly had a distinctive eastern flavour to them. With minarets piercing the sky, muezzins calling the faithful to prayer and the tiny shops heaving with all types of Turkish delights – from glass lamps, rugs and colourful copper plates to Turkish coffee, chai, baklava, exotic spices and, yes, Turkish Delight. It was hard to believe we were still in the middle of Europe!
According to the Oldies, the food, with a Turkish flavour, was a delight too. I have to take their word for it. It was obviously so good there was none left for me.
The Wingless Wonders made a beeline for the famous Stari Most, the Old Bridge. Standing at 30m high, this incredible piece of 16th century Islamic architecture had survived for over 400 years – which says a lot about early Islamic architecture – until it was shelled to pieces in 1993 during the Bosnian War – which says a lot about the destructive nature of man. What stands there now is the new ‘old bridge’, a reproduction. In fact, most of the city had to be rebuilt after the war.
As we battled our way through the throngs of tourists crossing over the bridge, I was reminded of the bedlam of Split. It didn’t help that so many stayed standing on the bridge, waiting for a local to dive into the river. He was waiting for the tourists to cough up €30 before he’d jump. I’d have done it for €25, but then, nobody asked me.
Things were a lot quieter in the lovely Koski Mehmed Pasha Mosque and the views from the minaret were fabulous – the incredibly turquoise and incredibly fast-flowing Neretva River below, the steep wall of mountains all around the city and the beautiful vista stretching out for miles beyond.
When we ventured further into town, what struck me was the number of graveyards. I’ve rarely seen so many in such a small area. In just one of these graveyards I noticed that on every single grave – dozens and dozens of them, some of them graves of young children – the date of death was the same year in every case. You could be forgiven for thinking that the world had ended in 1992. For those buried there, it had.
Strangely enough, the next striking thing was how lively a town Mostar is. I have never seen so many cafés, not even in Portugal and believe me, that’s saying something! And all these cafés were all chock-a-block with smiley, laughing people. I found out later that the unemployment rate here is sky high, almost 60% among young people, which accounts for so many people sitting in cafes nursing one drink for hours on end. For all their past history and current economic difficulties, these sure are smiley, fun-loving people. The atmosphere was wonderful, so relaxed.
The Oldies wandered aimlessly into the new part of town and just happened upon the Partisans Memorial Cemetery which was built in 1965. His Lordship explained that the Partisans were Yugoslav anti-fascist fighters during World War II. The politics of it all are beyond me, but it was sad to see graves of humans, regardless of their politics, religion or nationality, neglected, used as a rubbish dump and even vandalised – by humans.
Even sadder and more shocking were all too evident reminders of the more recent conflict. I don’t think there can have been a building in the entire city that wasn’t hit by bullets or shells during the siege. Many have been patched up or newly plastered, but most of those that haven’t still bear the scars of war.
‘Sniper Tower’, a former bank in the centre of town, is a horrifying sight, riddled with bullet holes from top to bottom. On close inspection however, I saw that it has since been decorated with dozens of colourful murals, many with positive and inspirational messages. I can imagine that most of these murals were painted by young people, which, in itself, is positively inspirational.
During our stay, the Oldies paid a visit to the Museum of War and Genocide Victims 1992 – 1995 in the old part of town. It is no place for a wooden seagull. The only thing I can say is that after my owners walked out of there, neither of them spoke a single word for a long, long time afterwards.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You humans really need to cop on to yourselves.
On our final evening in town, the Oldies were sitting outside a bar sipping their beers, listening to Frank Zappa blaring through the speakers. At the same time, from the speakers on a nearby minaret, a muezzin was calling the faithful to prayer.
Mostar is certainly a city of contrasts and a mix of cultures. It is full of both beautiful and shocking sights. And full of life and laughter.
