Balkans Tour - Mostar

It was a relief to leave the tourist hordes of the Croatian coast behind for the somewhat sleepier town of Mostar in Bosnia. Our lovely Croatian host family sent us off with a wonderful breakfast ("You cannot go hungry!" she said). Full and loaded up with burek for the three hour trip, we were ready to go. The bus ride was hellishly warm, the a/c never did much more than "leak air," as Jon put it. I was never so happy for a bus stop as I was here. We paid a ridiculous amount of money for cold water and were ecstatic for any air we could get. The worst part was we were driving by the sea for most of the trip, tantalized by the thought of a cold swim and fresh sea breeze.

When we thankfully drove into Mostar, the first thing we noticed was the war damage. There were scores of signs reading "Dangerous ruin: Do not enter!"



There were other reminders of the destruction of the 1990s. At one graveyard, virtually every year of death was between 1992 and 1996. It was heartbreakingly sad to see the pictures on the stones of men in their 20s and 30s who had died before their time.



We were unexpectedly met at the bus station by a guide from our hostel. We stayed right in the center between the bus station and Old Town, so it was a perfect location. The only downside was the shared bathroom which was outside of the building. But for $15/each a night, we couldn't complain too much!

I was immediately struck by the Turkishness of the town. The little bazaars and multitude of mosques that lined the narrow, cobblestone streets were simply lovely. It felt both exotic and familiar to hear the call to prayer again after so long.





We immediately set out to view the famous bridge for which the town is named. It is a very elegant arched bridge (and wonderful to see that it wasn't completely mobbed with people a la Charles Bridge in Prague.) I was also taken aback by the beautiful green hue of the river. I felt like I'd been transported to some fairy tale kingdom. Unfortunately the color doesn't come across as strongly in the photos.





The next day we hit the Turkish tourist sites, two historical Ottoman houses. The first was a tour-on-request with a rather reluctant guide. But we had the place to ourselves and a very intimate viewing. The second was the more touristed Turkish house where we got sandwiched between a large group of Russians, Germans and finally Italians. But the view was lovely. We tried to escape the group tours and went back to the bridge.





The bridge is known for its divers. I had seen this on a Travel Channel program and was hoping we'd get the opportunity to see one in action. The next morning we again went to the bridge for a last glimpse when we saw a guy in a speedo standing on the railing. Excited, we made our way closer to the bridge. We stood around for 15 minutes or so but the guy just kept pacing back and forth. Finally a woman (his PR agent perhaps) said that we had to pay in order to see him jump. We were tight on cash since we needed to buy lunch before hopping the bus to Sarajevo. Surprisingly no one else was coughing up the cash either so finally we left, disappointed that we had apparently missed our chance to see the Mostar bridge divers. As we headed back to the hostel, we glanced back one last time to look at the bridge. Our timing was perfect. Just as we turned, we saw the reluctant diver take the plunge and jump off the bridge. It was a perfect way to leave this memorable and picturesque town. I didn't manage to get a shot of our diver but here's the postcard that shows another one.