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This was a former bank before the war, one of the fancier buildings in town, covered in glass windows with a glass foyer and revolving door at the front. Hard to believe that now. Having been wrecked during the war it became a notorious snipers tower home to mercenaries and random sickos who would pretty much shoot anything moving in the streets below.

Everyone I spoke to had suggested a visit. Strictly speaking it’s boarded up and you’re not permitted to enter but there are some ways in and people clearly turn a blind eye hence the wooden ladder to get over a wall!

I visited with Hannah, a Kiwi I’d met (the Australasian kind, not the ornithological type). We’d been told not to go alone and not to go at night as you don’t know who’ll be in there. It did all seem a bit creepy and it was weird wondering through not knowing who you might meet in there, although the likelihood was that it would be people like us. Once in, the building is gutted and most of the walls are adorned with graffiti and street art. The pictures can do the talking.

Not having a good head for heights, I wasn’t a fan of going up the stair case as it had no walls and there were sheer drop to the side!

The views got better as you went up

Once on the top floor there was a metal ladder you could climb to get onto the roof. When I popped my head over the top there was another guy up there but he was just there taking photos.

The views from the top were amazing but there was no getting away from thinking about what the high view points had been used for in the recent past

Not sure whether a smile was appropriate!

Leaving Sarajevo I took the train to Mostar. One of the nicest train journeys I’ve taken. The train snakes along the sides of the mountains, through tunnels and along viaducts with beautiful views out the windows of turquoise lakes, lush valleys and forested peaks.

Mostar was another place I was really blown away by. As per usual I arrived knowing little about the place and was very pleasantly surprised. In fact first impressions were not great actually. You leave the station and walk along Tito Avenue to the main town which I later found out was the worst road in the the city. The street is still dominated by derelict buildings, still ruined from the war. As you approach the old town however you are greeted by narrow cobbled streets and Ottoman style buildings scattered either side of the river with the famous bridge ‘Stari Most’ connecting the two sides. Despite most of the old town (in fact most of the city) having been rebuilt since its destruction in the war you’d be hard pushed to notice.

A huge amount of the city has been rebuilt in the past couple of decades, but there are wrecked buildings everywhere with bullet holes and extensive damage. It’s hard to escape the past.

Whilst the city has seen peace it is still divided with Bosnian Croats in the west side and Bosniaks on the East and tensions still exist. Žica, the hostel owner who was shot twice during the war at the age of 17 and has half of his high school class buried in the cemetery, explained that the person who shot him in all likelihood still lives in the city and he may well walk past him in the street every day.

At the centre of the old town is the famous bridge, the Stari Most. I was told Mostar means ‘keepers of the bridge’ and to be a true Mostarian you have take part in the ancient tradition of diving off the bridge into the icy waters below. It’s a 25 metre jump which is incredibly dangerous and usually only attempted by the experienced locals who are part of the famous dive club. You can try this as a tourist if you pay and do a day’s training from the 10 metre practice board. You have to be ‘signed off’ before giving the big one a go. I heard many stories of people breaking backs, limbs and an American who died a couple of years ago. In fact recently someone broke both their knees. Apparently you enter the water at over 70km/h. I was not tempted.

Watching the locals dive is quite the site.

The saddest chapter of the city’s history was when following an artillery bombardment from a Croatian tank the bridge was destroyed, disappearing into the river. The one you see was restored and completed in 2004.

Whilst I was in Mostar I took a tour to some of the sites in the countryside around:

The beautiful and pleasantly icy cold waterfalls at Kravice (it was around 40°C)

The castle and fortress at Pocitelj – a stopping off point for travellers seeking safety

The Monastery at Blagaj Tekke.

The view from Hum hill overlooking Mostar

This was surprising. Following the war they built a park between the East and the West to symbolise peace and coming together. They wanted a statue of an important figure who would look over Mostar. The authorities couldn’t agree on anyone and so it went to the people who voted for Bruce Lee! Haha

I arrived in Sarajevo with little-to-no knowledge of the city. In my head, I thought I had something of the war but in reality I didn’t know much beyond a vague outline of the events. I left feeling much better informed. Some aspects of the visit were quite harrowing, especially the visit to the genocide and war crimes museum. I found quite alarming how little I did know about the war, a sentiment echoed by most of my fellow travellers, albeit that they were mostly much younger. It’s certainly something I intend to read more about in near future

One of the most striking things about the visiting Bosnia and Hertzovoginia was the fact that with the war being so recent there were so many people around who had lived through it and had personal experiences to share.

Sarajevo itself was architecturally split in two with the east side largely showing the influence of Ottoman Empire and the west side the Austro-hungarian empire, and of course remnants of the communist era Yugoslavia. There was in fact a dividing line where you could see the divide:

That being said the city seemed very integrated and at the centre of town you found the main Mosque, Cathedral and Synagogue within a few minutes of each other.

My favourite part of the city was the old Ottoman market area with countless little shops and stalls selling little trinkets, coffee sets and hand crafted metal ornaments, as well as the usual tourist tat.

I also ventured up to the Yellow fortress on top of one of the main hills, now derelict due to lack of funds to restore it. Was a bit of slog getting up there in the heat but worth it for the views at the top

The city hall built in the Ottoman style

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Ministry of Cejf – worth a visit if you ever visit and are in need of a proper coffee

…something I’ve had my fill of now. There’s only so much meat and bread one can shove into their digestive system without feeling very seedy indeed. I’ve discovered that the Balkan diet is essentially a system for delivering large quantities of grilled meat and carbohydrates onto a plate. As a matter or principal I rarely photograph my meals but I’ve included a couple of photos here to highlight nature of Balkan cuisine.

The most popular dish is something called Çevapi (chuh-vappi) which consists of fingers of grilled meat posted into a an enormous slab of greasy, oily bread. Everything very salty. It comes with a side of raw chopped onions and, if you’re lucky, a ‘salad’ which tends to consist of a minuscule leaf of lettuce atop which sits a small cherry tomato halved for decoration. No sauce. I have to say that this can be very tasty when done well or like eating eating salted cardboard at its worst and regardless unfortunately looks a like a literal shit sandwich. After a few days this kind of food weighs heavy on your soul, and you find yourself craving vegetables (something unusual for me). Ive been living with it for over a week now.

Çevapi

I may being unfair, and there are variations on the theme. Unfortunately, for reasons previously stated I have little photographic evidence but some descriptions may have to suffice. I recently had a Çevapi-esque dish that in the picture (photographic menus never indicate great quality) looked like a burger and chips. It arrived on a huge silver platter with a plate as well, mostly I think because the ‘burger’ itself was too large to fit on a conventional plate. The burger was parked on top of what can only be described as a loaf with a substantial portion of French fries. The half cherry tomato garnish again (as previously described) and some intensely salty sour cream was provided in addition. I did check and it was intended as single portion and so I accepted the challenge of eating this dinosauric platter of food. It did actually taste good but alas I was defeated.

One evening, with the aforementioned vegetable craving kicking in I ordered a stuffed vegetables dish called ‘Dolma’ thinking this might provide the vitamin fix that I was after. Turns out not. It was stuffed peppers, but stuffed with minced meat, again an epic portion. Having avoided the heavy bread for a change I was delivered my carbohydrates in the form of mashed potatoes with delicious yet rich gravy. Did make me chuckle that even the vegetables come stuffed with meat.

Dolma

Another favourite was Burek. Very tasty but also equally heavy. A baked soft dough with salty cheese mixed in and further gratinated with a layer of cheese on top. In many ways my ideal meal. It came sizzling and bubbling fresh from the oven:

Whilst often very tasty I am ready to leave the Balkan diet behind me.

Somewhat through choice I have chosen to plan most of my trip as I go. I know I’m heading for Central Asia but hadn’t really thought through the route at all before hand apart from going via Slovenia. In many ways this has been a good thing as it gives me total freedom. I can take onboard tips and advice I pick up on the road and can change my mind whenever I want. It was much easier as I moved through Western Europe where I was able to roam on my phone using mobile data which meant I could essentially google as I go.

I find I tend to change my plan almost daily depending often on my mood. One of the great things about this is that I often arrive in a country with little idea about it, or expectations. It makes for nice surprises and also means that I can find out about places through exploration and talking to people as I go.

Sometimes, however winging it does make things a little trickier, particularly as I’ve moved further East and can no longer use my phone apart from on WiFi which is intermittent of course. For example, I arrived into Sarajevo late at night as the bus was a couple of hours late and I was slightly anxious about missing the check in for my hostel. I decided to take a taxi from the station to the hostel and ended up getting absolutely fleeced. The issue was that I’d turned up in Bosnia and realised not only did I not know what the currency was but I also had no idea how much it was worth! This was winging it a bit too much and not something I’ll do again.

I got some money out and when the driver quoted me ’20’ I did, out of habit initially contest this but realising I didn’t know the value of the currency it was a difficult place to negotiate from. Being late at night I just paid. When I arrived at the hostel and checked the currency I realised I’d be charged about 4 times the going rate. My own fault. Thankfully not a large amount of money.

Having not planned far ahead the travel too has not been as easy as I thought. I had some ideas of routes as the crow flies but hadn’t realised how limited the rail network is as I’ve got further away from home. This has meant buses which, due to the more rugged landscape take a long time and can be quite gruelling (as I’ll later describe in an upcoming post).

I’ve had one major change of plan. I was originally planning to head up through Romania, Moldova etc toward the Ukraine where I was going to try and take a ferry across the Black Sea to Georgia. I now intend to go to the south west and get to Istanbul and then take trains across Turkey to Georgia. Partly because I keep having flashbacks to my chronic sea sickness in the past and 3-5 days on a ferry could be a risk too far for me. I also fancy a change of scenery and want to check out Turkey. In fact I was discussing this plan with someone in a hostel who asked me if I had a visa for Turkey. A good thing he mentioned it because I hadn’t thought about it! Luckily it’s easy to do online.

One of the biggest problems I’ve faced is indecision. So many amazing places to visit. Where do you go? Everyone has great recommendations. It’s a good problem to have but you can’t go everywhere. My main goal now though is to get to Central Asia for September so will get a move on now. We’ll see how that works out…

After a couple of days in Zagreb I opted to take the bus to Zagreb as the train didn’t go across the border. I wasn’t entirely thrilled by the prospect having checked out the reviews of the bus companies that covered the routes but had no other options really.

I thought I was travelling with Croatia Bus but it was in fact a company called Centrotrans. I guess on the whole it wasn’t entirely terrible in terms of the conditions but the journey didn’t get off to the best of starts. Upon boarding the bus and trying to put my rucksack in the hold I realised there was an extra fee to stow the luggage, not something I’d been told when booking the ticket. I had absolutely no money on me thinking I’d pick some up when I got to Sarajevo. The bus driver when loading the bags was not happy about this revelation. I tried to explain that I didn’t know it cost extra and that I had no cash. He did not understand and just yelled at me loudly gesturing wildly and demanded money. I politely told the bus driver that I didn’t have any fucking money but he didn’t seem to understand this either, signalling for me to just go away. His customer service skills left a little be desired putting it mildly. Cutting a long story short, I managed to extract my rucksack, run across the bus station and get to an ATM. Naturally it dispensed me only the highest value note possible (the luggage fee was only a euro) Fearing the further wrath of the driver I then pelted it to a shop to buy something to get change and made it back just in time to get on, remaining completely calm and relaxed throughout as you can imagine!

Another British chap also made friends with the driver when just before leaving he presented his e-ticket on his mobile phone. Paper tickets only apparently. After further angry words from the driver he was actually banished from the coach looking totally confused and bewildered. We left and moved to another part of the station where thankfully he was allowed to board having somehow sourced a paper ticket.

The bus was only two hours late which I’ve subsequently learned it was pretty in time.

My third day in Slovenia was not a good day. I awoke at about ten to seven, disoriented and with a mouth drier than the Gobi dessert. The plan was to take a bus to go camping at 8am but the previous night I had engaged in some moderate to heavy imbibing of the local beers with a group of continental youngsters. I was feeling slightly disappointed with myself given the planned early night but not regretful.

I met Michael, a Swede and a Dutch couple (who’s names I’ve forgotten) in the dorm and we went for food. We were later joined by Matje, a Bosnian Croat who had grown up in Holland (he’d met the other two earlier in the train). After a saga of finding a restaurant we eventually sat down to eat at about 10 nearly two hours after we set out. We eventually got some traditional Slovenian sausage.

I’m finding travelling that crowd is generally young, usually at least ten years younger than me. Most of this lot were 21 and I was quickly pronounced ‘Father’. To cut a long story short, I should have known better than to get stuck into some drinking games but alas that is where the evening went. We bizarrely ended up in an ‘English’ pub underneath the hostel. If this place were actually in England you would probably expect to be sharing a pint with Tommy Robinson. Thankfully it’s only inhabitants were yet more Dutch.

Alas, I stumbled out of bed, had a token ‘freshen up’ and tried to pack my bag in the pitch black without making too much noise.

The plan had been to go camping at a lake in Bohinj for a couple of days and hopefully do some hiking. With that in mind I’d prepared a separate bag of excess kit to leave at the left luggage place. After staggering to the coach station, the first blow came when the left luggage place was closed for no apparent reason. Despite some fruitless attempts at knocking on the door I just had to board the bus, my sweaty metal prison for the next two hours or so. With my already sizeable rucksack and extra gear stuffed beside me on my seat I drifted in and out of consciousness as the bus wound its way along the roads towards the lake.

I eventually arrived at the lake and campsite only to discover that it was completely full. They helpfully suggested I try again tomorrow morning before 8. I had in fact emailed them previously where they’d furnished me with the information about turning up before 8am but I dismissed this owing to the fact that it would entail taking a 6am bus and thought it ludicrous that a campsite would be full before eight o’clock in the morning. Lesson learned.

I took stock of the situation and my life in general and went to the little cafe for a coffee.

I decided, given my delicate state, it was best to bid a retreat. Another hour and half waiting by the roadside in a forrest and two and half hours on the bus and I was back in Ljubljana where I immediately tucked in to a Slovenian sausage which turned out to be my saviour. As lovely as the lake was, it was incredibly crowded with people and not really the sort of wilderness I was looking for anyhow.

Later, I needed to wash my clothes so sought out a Laundry place which was a 45 minute walk out of the city. This was to wash three T-shirts and a pair of socks. Upon finding the place I saw the machine below:

I reasonably assumed that this would give me change, probably smaller notes going on the diagram. I eagerly stuffed a €20 note in there. It started clicking away like crazy which was a little annoying as I thought it was giving me €20 in coins but to my horror I quickly saw what was actually happening:

It gave me 20 bloody washing tokens. I needed 4. This was a terribly vexing matter for me at the time. It was a bit like when Jesus turned the water to wine only I turned all my useful money into laundry tokens. Great.

I knocked a door and managed to summon a man who came out and drew my attention to this sign:

Sigh.

I quickly formulated a plan however to recover my loss and started trying to sell my tokens back to the the few locals who came in using some gesturing, clinking sound effects and my handful of tokens. Remarkably I managed to recoup €10 back before I had to give up!

All in a productive days travel. Five hours on a bus, an hour and half sitting on a roadside and a couple of hours washing a few garments and throwing my money away and all with a steaming hangover.

I’m currently in Sarajevo, so I thought I’d take a moment to write about my visit to Ljubljana. This has been the place I was most blown away by. Arriving knowing nothing about it, and having little in the way of expectations I can safely say this has been my favourite place so far.

I thought Slovenia was supposed to be a hidden gem but it turns out half of Europe is visiting. I didn’t take so many photos because there were so many people everywhere but they can speak for themselves.

I really enjoyed just chilling out here, walking about and migrating from cafe to cafe nursing a coffee whilst catching up on my book. The whole centre of the old town is pedestrianised and situated either side of a river. The place was just calm and safe and very chilled out. English was spoken everywhere by default almost which was a bonus. I partook in the free walking tour and had a ‘night excursion’ on the second night which played a pet in a slightly extended visit in the end (tone explained in future post). I even squeezed in a little run.

I had a random encounter with my friend Adam from work who coincidentally was there on a stag do – hence the background antics

Should have got a longer video but the street performers were fairly unique and of good quality around the city unlike some of the rubbish you see in capital cities. My favourite was this chap. He essentially serenaded his dog with some of melodic sax tunes (slowed down improvised versions of ABBA songs from what I could tell) – the dog would then sing along with him, which I think you can hear towards the end. They seemed particularly popular with the ladies.