If you are reading this, you have probably worked out by now, that this is not a typical commercial travel blog. There are no affiliate links and I’m ranking very low on the SEO (Search Engine optimisation, for you non-millennials out there). This is a self-indulgent diary style alternative view of travel. However, today I will be sharing my 10 Commandments for Travelling in the Balkans. These hard earned tips just may help some of you build confidence and avoid some of the same mistakes I have made when travelling to the Balkans, or to other places without travel manuals.
1. Don’t believe public transport websites
2. Always read your bus/ train tickets once you have purchased them to make sure you have the right date
3. Have a back-up plan in case your wifi fails – or if it never works in the first place;
4. Be brave; you may have to ask someone for directions, or even to make a phone call for you; they can only say no. My percentage has been pretty good for this at 50% yes/no.
5. Take some extra plastic bags;
6. Pack some of those fold up shopping bags
7. Look out the windows; the mountain/ canyon/ rural/ city views are free and amazing
8. Don’t drink too much red wine the night before a big hike
9. Practice Hindi squats – do I need to explain why?
10. And above all, byo toilet paper.
Prior to my transfer from Nis to Sarajevo, I undertook extensive online research as early as months leading up to my trip on how to get there. I am sometimes accused of over-preparing and not being spontaneous enough. I had also learnt that it pays to have your date and destination written down, to assist non-English speaking ticket collectors to understand the information. So, after re-checking the Kondor website which, backed up by a traveller’s blog elucidated that the ten hour, twenty stop bus trip from Nis to Sarajevo only occurred on odd days, I strode confidently with date, day and destination clearly printed to the bus station in Nis , firstly politely asking if the seller understood English. Again, I re-iterated the day and date and happily walked off with my small ticket full of Serbian Cyrillic language and numbers, knowing which platform to arrive at, prepared for an early night to be ready for the 6.10am departure. Calmly I waited at the stop the next day, but nervousness set in, when, at 6.05, only one other person waited at said platform. For a moment, my world fell, when she flatly answered ‘This is for tomorrow’!
Fortunately, I was able to organise another night in Nis – two days wasn’t enough anyway, but this was going to cut into my time in Sarajevo. Second time lucky, I was fortunate to meet a friendly, fluent English speaker on my bus and discovered that she had made the same mistake, even though she is Serbian; suddenly I didn’t feel so stupid. I was starting to think that this trip is all about the buses as I seem to be spending considerable time on them. This one was about to be 10 hours long and in typical Balkan style, no information was given on whether there were lunch or toilet breaks. I sought the advice of my pragmatic and intrepidly well-travelled daughter on this one; Sarah had been to more far flung places than me such as Egypt, Jordan, Jerusalem and Vietnam so may have some answers. ‘The trick is to drink a lot of water the day before to hydrate but then don’t drink much on the day’ she offered. I remembered this but found myself sipping water anyway to avoid parched mouth. As the bus stopped for pickups almost every half hour, I discovered that there were actually numerous pauses for the most important function to a Balkan – smoking! Almost every one of the twenty-five of us on the mini-bus except for a 3 year old boy and I smoked and for one man, every hour or so was not enough and he frequently paced up and down down at the front of the bus, unlit fag in hand, desperate look on his face. At one town, two women headed to the toilet so I followed suit. Feeling proud to have packed some toilet paper in preparedness, I felt accomplished to have almost mastered the act of squatting in a non-flushing toilet without squirting myself, undies or the periphery of the ‘bowl’, all the while keeping my handbag off the ground. It’s a particular skill set, trust me. The main stop, not only offered a modern, seated toilet but the opportunity for coffee; I sat with my new Serbian ‘friend’ who let me in on the secret that the bus driver had just ordered a pancake so we’d have time to leisurely enjoy our coffee; not only did I consume the best coffee I had experienced in about a fortnight, but she shouted. Could life get any better?
The remaining six hours brought gorgeous mountainous scenery with near vertical gorges, rushing streams and the occasional hard braking of the bus as cows were escorted across the road. Chain smoking man continued to pace at the front of the bus, pleading for a smoking stop. After the hour long border stop of entering Bulgaria, and the twice off the bus and into the office border stop in Serbia, entering Bosnia was a breeze, with the border guards entering the bus twice to inspect passports and hand them back in about fifteen minutes.
A taxi ride from the East Sarajevo bus stop which is on the outskirts of town brought me to my apartment. The skinny young sister of the owner of the apartment was in a hurry to go as friends were calling so I was left to work out how to get around and more importantly how to purchase a new Sim myself. Bosnia is off the map when it comes to partnerships with international sim companies probably because they are not a part of the EU or EEA so you need to get a new one.
It was only on my second day that I looked up and around and realised that right in my neighbourhood must have been in the thick of the 1990s siege. Many of the concrete buildings in the centre of town, just around the corner, bore the large round scars of bullet ammunition; these were directly opposite highly modern Times Square/ Tokyo style shopping centres with neon flashing signs and mosques and churches could often be seen in the background. The Siege of Sarajevo occurred from 1992-1996 and apparently 13,952 people were killed during the siege, including 5,434 civilians.
I remember around this time in the 1990s teaching a subject at Bendigo Senior Secondary College entitled VCE Management. Teachers were often given this class when under allotted, and it was pretty much up to us to do what we wanted to help the students with their homework and study skills. But for some of these supposedly disorganised students, the community and one to one attention of this class gave them purpose. One of these students I taught was a very tall boy, whose name I cannot recall, but I remember that he and his brother had sought refuge from Bosnia and they were both very good at basketball. He could not understand why the kids in this group were so unmotivated and didn’t want to complete homework. He knew fully the importance of hard work and grasping opportunities. Fast forward twenty four years later, I am plucking up the courage to ask a man selling tours at the National Museum whether he lived here during the war. He had offered to ‘help’ me with ideas on what to do in Sarajevo and had a few brochures to hand out. The discovery of my nationality seemed to give him permission to money-shame. ‘You Australians have plenty of money to spend… I have a friend who lives in Sydney and is the CEO for Telstra….everyone here leaves for better countries like Germany..’ he ranted. ‘We actually don’t all have that much money’ I meekly offered in defence. Then I probed ‘Were you living here…. During the war in the 90s…?’ After a deep breath, he closed his eyes and whispered that there was just too much to say about the war.
Later, as I sheltered from the approaching storm in my fourth floor walk-up apartment, opposite the shell of an old brick building, I wondered if the perforated design of the tall contemporary building used as a café adjacent was a Postmodern response to the shelling. Later on, I heard the crackly sound of call to prayer, competing with oncoming traffic and customers at the cafe below. Half an hour beforehand a Muslim man and two women enjoyed ice cream and cigarettes outside at the same café. The stifling 30+ weather has changed and it is now cooler; I have a sim and it won’t be dark for 3 hours; time to go out and explore. And my apartment host has apologised for not providing toilet paper. Life is good and I am feeling lucky.
