After the busy day travelling around
yesterday, we emerged from our sleep a lot later than I would have allowed,
given we had more exploring to do. But we had been on a little adventure, so
today’s activities could be somewhat more relaxed. It must have been close to
midday before we left the hotel. Bright sunshine beckoned us when we did depart,
but we soon shied away and walked down the narrow main thoroughfare to ease its
gaze.
John suggested that we should go and visit
the Tunnel Museum. I had been curious to see this previously, but was not brave
enough then to make the journey there by myself. I kept to the familiarity of
the old town, and down to the Parliament building area. So I eagerly agreed.
We found a kiosk and bought a tram ticket
to head to Ilidza. This was the opposite end of Sarajevo to the old town. John
was excited for the tram journey, again. We boarded the shabby tram that proved
to be rather busy. We immediately stamped our ticket, as we were pre-warned to
do, for fear of getting a fine. The journey was along the whole length of the
route, so I was pleased that after 3 or 4 stops I secured a seat, with John
following a stop later. A nice breeze came through the open windows above, with
the metal on metal rattle of the wheels and track below pouring through.
As we passed the car hire place from
yesterday, we entered unknown territory. Rows of concrete blocks of housing
kept appearing to our left until we reached a big elevated road junction reminiscent,
one abstractly assumed from above, of the Olympic rings logo. After we passed
under this, single-level, bungalow-style housing then emerged. And there was a
reason for this.
Soon enough, to our left there appeared
two rows of wired fencing running alongside us. An expanse opened up behind it,
and complicated lighting arrangements emerged. We were at one end of the runway
for Sarajevo Airport. I suppose it took me by surprise, although it should not
have, given we were going to visit the Tunnel Museum that was dug underneath
the airport!
60 seconds later we crossed through a
roundabout, then pulled up to our final destination. We got off the tram, and
appeared to be in a small shopping area. The tram could continue around a
teardrop shaped track to face back towards the old town. All the shops were
flat roofed and modern in a 1970s sense; many of the food ones having canopies
and rattan seating. There was an air of market day about it, with shoppers
casually ambling around with bags half full.
Ilidza formed part of the Bosnian Serb
forces territory during the siege, but it was now within the Federation (not
Republika Srpska) entity. But not by much. We decided to head straight to the
museum. I couldn’t locate any information online about public transport to it,
so assumed there wasn’t any. We set off on foot and meandered around a few
municipal buildings. We arrived at a wide road that had industrial units on the
side facing the airport, and what must have been a registry office on the other
side, as a wedding party was gathering outside. We walked in an easterly
direction without any trees for shade, and had failed to buy any water too. We
did stumble upon a brown sign a few hundred yards down the road, indicating the
direction of the museum. So we turned off the wide road into a rather well to
do suburb. A small stream ran past us, bubbling in front of the small plots
containing detached housing. It was all pretty serene. We passed a small shop,
no bigger than kiosk, which apparently sold bread. I couldn’t tell if it had
closed many years ago, or just sold bread on an ad hoc basis. It seemed rather
worn out, and given that the area we were in was the front line, I’m not
surprised.
We continued walking, mostly following the
free GPS on my phone, in the general direction of the museum. We only saw one
other sign for it. Then the houses disappeared, and all of a sudden we were
walking on open grassland. The airport looked very exposed. There was no
pavement here, so when a car approached, we had to get on to the grass. To be
fair, this only happened twice. In all, it took us about 40 minutes of walking
to get here. The only noise to break the silence were two aircraft taking off,
sending a booming and vibrating blast across the wide valley floor.
The house upon which the tunnel was built
was easily identifiable. It really
did bear the brunt of enemy fire by being on the front line. With the amount of
bullet holes in it, it was remarkable the thing hadn’t just collapsed. It was
typical of the style we had just walked passed. A stirring resemblance to
houses in ski resorts, only on a smaller scale, with two floors, balcony, and a
classic apex roof. You entered the museum down a side alley to the house, where
a little wooden hut was constructed, set from the house. We paid the equivalent
of £4 each and entered the back yard. This stretched about 100 yards towards
the airport, and was a couple of yards wider than the house itself. In the
bottom right corner was a modern wooden building of one level. This was the
video room. Attached along the 8 ft high metal garden fencing was a written,
chronological story of the tunnel that you followed round.
The story was fascinating. The airport was
agreed, between the parties, to be a ‘neutral zone’, which meant it cut off the
Bosnian Serbs from fully encircling the city; but also from allowing the
Bosnian Government access to the city from territory it held. The Bosnian
Government wanted to secure access, so the idea of a tunnel emerged to shift
people and supplies back and forth. The owner of the house was an old lady, who
allowed for this to take place. I believe she lived there throughout. What a
torment for someone to sustain for all those years, especially witnessing the
devastation to her house. As I gazed at a map of the city under siege, I noticed
that the Bosnian Serb territory, which was merely hundreds of meters away, now
corresponds to the demarcated internal border of the two entities. Republika
Srpska was a short walk away.
We wondered into the house that had an
assortment of displays on about the siege. But as you were directed to the
basement, you became aware that you were going to the start of the tunnel. They
kept the entrance to it open, and stabilized 50 yards of it. It was extremely
claustrophobic, but luckily we only walked through it for seconds. We then emerged
in the middle of the backyard. I had wandered what the little hole in the
ground was! We visited the video room, but only for a few minutes, as we had
garnered enough knowledge about the siege as we needed. Also, we were becoming
a bit dehydrated.
We decided to leave after 45 minutes, and
follow our footsteps back to Ilidza. As we rejoined the main road with the
industrial buildings on it, a convoy of cars drove slowly past tooting their
horns and waving flags out of the windows. It seems that the wedding had now
finished, and this was the custom. I had seen this in Slovenia a few years ago,
but it was still a joyful thing to see. It really created a community vibe to
the wedding. This went on for the whole length of the road we walked, as they
seemed to be doing laps!
When we returned to the market area, we
decided to have a drink. We were parched and also needed shade from the sun. We
picked a bar at random, but it happened to be on a thoroughfare so we could
people watch. The one thing we should have not have done, was take this rest as
a bit of a session for drinking. After about 2 hours of chatting and ordering
more beers, as we didn’t want to move, we became rather pissed. I recall
paying, buying a tram ticket, and then boarding the tram. The journey was
pretty fuzzy back to the old town. However, as we walked through the old town,
I remembered that I needed to send my friend a postcard that he requested (read:
demanded). So I bought one, found a small post office in one of the old town shop
fronts, paid my stamp and borrowed a pen. I scribbled a message, which I could
not recall moments later, and posted it. I believe the person received it after
we returned from the trip.
As we staggered back to the hotel, I
noticed the first floor of a building that looked out on to the square of the
old town where the Sebilj was located. It had etched into its yellow plaster a
Star of David, and a box with words including the date 1873. These sorts of
finds really fascinate me. What was this buildings’ purpose? Was it a
synagogue, or did it serve another function? Who occupied it? John tried
Wikmapia to see if it had the answer, but alas it did not. We returned to the
hotel and took a long nap.
We woke up rather hungry, so John inspected
Trip Advisor again and found an Italian near the flame memorial. We walked the
length of the pedestrian pathway through the old town and Austro-Hungarian
section, to reach the flame. We then turned immediately left into a very
Germanic courtyard. This seemed to be a hub of activity, with a restaurant in
every corner, spilling out into the courtyard. Our Italian was on the left. We
were given a table for two in the mezzanine level, unfortunately next to a teenager’s
birthday party. It was all very loud! The food was nice, and the candlelight
brought a romantic feel to the restaurant. We then departed and returned to the
club from last night. Perhaps we will have more luck in spotting some gays this
time.
We arrived at the door and presented
ourselves with our secretive knock, the door giving way soon after. We paid the
minimal charge and went down. Tonight was a lot busier, very much the club ‘feel’
I was expecting the first night. We bought a couple of beers, then perched on a
tall table near the exposed brick back wall. Many people were dancing in the
pit area near the door and DJ booth. After a while we notice another couple
that had entered and looked as new as us. They must have been tourists and seen
the same Internet reviews of this place as we did. John went to the bar and
they began chatting. Once they came over and after we exchanged pleasantries,
it turns out that they both have a London link. One guy was from Germany
originally but lived in London. His partner is from London originally but now
resides in New York.
The rest of the night consisted of us all
discussing our time in Sarajevo, where we had been, and to where we were travelling.
At one point we decided we did not like the club, so ventured out. There were
still throngs of people emptying out of the various film festival events. We
ended up at a trendy bar on one of the back streets, but it seemed that all the
other film ‘luvvies’ were there too. After too many beers, we then left our new
friends and returned to the hotel at god-knows what hour.
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