I asked the receptionist where
the best place was to walk to, to get a view of the city. She said that a 20
minute walk up the hill near the hotel would get me that. So I walked to a
corner shop for refreshments. I then walked north up a quiet road, past a
Muslim cemetery. A lot of the dates of death ended between 1992 and 1995. I
continued in the blazing heat up the very steep hill. I was wet with sweat by
now. At the top of the hill, I took a sharp right where the road flattened. I
walked 200 yards to the edge, near a tower’s base and saw the city. The hills
of the long valley were steep and green: peppered with terracotta-roofed
houses, becoming less in density as they went higher. The valley stretched out
for a good few kilometers, until Soviet style blocks guarded the entrance to a
wide plain (although still in a valley) where the airport is located. I then
walked back down to the old town, the other side of the cemetery.
I walked around the old town,
through it towards the river. I wandered along the river to the Latin bridge,
and gazed upon the plaque that notified me of the site on which Franz Ferdinand
and his wife Sofia were shot by Gavrilo Princip. I then walked into town,
towards the Austro-Hungarian built area, then stopped at a café for lunch. It
was just outside a mosque and, for 5 minutes during my stay there, a call to
prayer sounded out. After an hour I left and walked through the old town
looking for gifts, but gave up after a while and retreated back to the hotel.
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