Around the Balkans in 20 Days - Part 14

We decided on a cab to the bus station, as the walk would leave us exhausted and sweaty. After packing, eating breakfast, then checking out, we jumped in the hotel ordered taxi and arrived in good time for our bus. We searched for a few snack items from the nearby kiosk, and then unenthusiastically waited until our scheduled bus arrived. We decamped in front of ‘Peron 10’ – peron, I assumed, meaning platform – until a bus pulled into our bay. A little bit of commotion was caused by fellow travelers, presumably on our journey, with bags being dragged closer to the bus’ luggage storage. We waddled a little closer in order to hear what the official was saying to others. I cant explain why as we didn’t speak the language, but if I heard ‘Mostar’, I knew we would be onto a winner. As tickets were being checked and tokens for the luggage were handed out, we queued up and took our turn. 25 minutes before departure, we were in our seats. The bus was hot as the air con was not yet on, but it did seem to have modern conveniences that our previous coach to Belgrade lacked.

We unpacked things we needed immediately; water, headphones, books etc, and settled in for the journey. As scheduled, the driver climbed aboard, the doors were shut, and we were off. We drove west out of the city, but not taking the modern bypass southwest from the outset. Instead, we drove through Ilizda, crossing over the Bosna River, and then meandered through villages that ran alongside the main E73, before merging with it. At first, we essentially passed through similar terrain as Sarajevo; with tall green hills surrounding slim floodplains dotted with houses one could loosely call villages. Every now and then, we would see the railway line in an array of positions - running in and out of tunnels, vulnerably perched along high viaducts, or cross our path through a junction.

After 40 minutes or so, we then joined the main north-south road heading into the Herzegovina region, where the terrain began to turn mountainous. We must have continually been ascending since Sarajevo, because we now entered and hurtled down a long tunnel that brought us out into a steep, green valley. Villages perched on the side, containing terracotta topped houses and shiny white minarets poking out here and there. After an accelerated descent, we reached the first main town, Konjic, which was also our first drop-off/pick-up stop.

It ticked all the boxes for a market town at a crucial cross roads in central Bosnia, and was positioned near to the entrance of Lake Jablanica, spanning the Neretva River. We pulled up on the side of the road on the main Kolonija road, and dropped off a few people, as well as picking a couple up. We were soon off again and heading out of the town. Between here and Jablanica, we kept to the lakeside. It was blue-green in the sunshine, sparkling almost. Craggy hills descended into the lake, each valley between them filling the lake with its own tributary rivers. I was envious of the kayakers on the lake in their red boats and puffy life jackets. I made a mental note to stay in this region for a while on a future visit.

After travelling in a westerly direction, we began to turn south not far from the next stop of Jablanica. The sun was now out of my direct gaze, so it allowed me to squint less and observe the scenery more. We repeated the scenario; people off people on. Again, all in a matter of seconds, not minutes. As we left the tight streets of the central town, we drove past an open expanse to our left. The gigantic and stony Prenj Mountain stood dominant in the background, with what seemed like only slightly shorter hills closer to us. But nearby was a green plain, on the precipice of a gorge that contained the Neretva River. At the green’s edge was an old locomotive train, and on the opposite bank one could see a collapsed bridge with the railway track still fastened on. Later on, I soon learned that this was the site of the famous Battle of the Neretva. The bridge, though, was rebuilt and bombed twice for the filming of the movie of the same name.

We continued on, now snaking along the side of the river and within the same valley until we reached Mostar. A change in the environment was noticable about 45 minutes outside of Mostar, as the hills became parched, and the ground turned chalky-brown and more Mediterranean.  As we came into Mostar, you could see that beyond it, to the south, the valley opened up as the river went on towards the sea.

We disembarked at the quiet and dusty bus station. We had about 4 hours in Mostar, so we asked to put our luggage into storage for a few marks and confirmed our next bus. I read that we were on the Bosniak side of town, and one that we stayed in for our brief visit. We walked down a north-south side street that was parallel to the main thoroughfare we arrived on. It was quieter but, as we began to approach the Mostar Bridge, had more shops and cafes emerging around us. This is where we also noticed the outnumbering of tourists to locals as we approached the famous old bridge. We cut down a side street, to another parallel road to the one we were on, but this time adjacent to the river.

Above the tops of the trees that emerged out of the ravine below, you could see a wide ‘V’ of buildings come to centre either side of the top third of the bow of the Stari Most. You could already see a heaving gaggle of tourists on top. Suitable photo opportunity now, I thought. We paced downhill slightly along the cobbled street, where trinket shops lined the riverside. We were in direct sunlight, so began to bake slightly. We reached the bridge, and climbed steeply up its arched top. It was steeper than I anticipated, highlighted by the prominent row of bricks every 10 inches or so apart, acting almost like steps. It took 5 minutes to walk over, with no chance to stop, as people dawdled to look at the surroundings or posed for pictures.

As soon as we stepped off the bridge, we passed between a tower and a townhouse and into the tightly packed lane with more trinket shops. This had more of the feel of the Bascarcija in Sarajevo. We walked through, looking for a bar to have a drink and lunch. We continued in a straight line through the sand-coloured buildings, covered periodically by canopies between them, until we opened out into a street with generic 1980s apartments. Here, we saw a gelato shop ahead so anticipated further restaurants. However, we approached a rather wide main road, so turned back to try our luck back in the market area. This is where we also saw the first Church, so assumed we had entered the Croat side of town.

Near towards the bridge, John saw a sign for food ‘with a view’. We decided to give it a shot. We entered into a tekke-styled courtyard, and then off it into a restaurant entrance. We spoke to the waiter who led us through the dimly light restaurant, up some stairs, and then out of some French windows and onto a balcony. The ravine was below us, the sparkling green-blue water again, gushing together as it squashed through the bridge nearby. We were in the shade, but could take in the majesty of the bridge. I ordered cevapcici, as it may have been my last time on holiday, and ordered a glass of red. I may have ordered another, more in an attempt to hydrate, but this fanciful idea was quashed with my ordering water to accompany it. I just wanted to be woozy to pass the time.

After this, I wanted the money shot photo, so we headed on down to the riverside to look the bridge from below. It was very busy with children playing in the water, observed by family members on the rocks in the shade. The serene nature of the goings on were a far cry from the war that saw this historic bridge destroyed only 20-odd years before. Mostar resembled Sarajevo in that it was surrounded by domineering hills. It was from here that the Croat forces mortared the bridge. Its rebuilding and opening in 2004 was an attempt at reconciliation. However, as elsewhere, reconciliation between people proves a mightier challenge. Those of an older generation knew who their enemies were, on all sides, and those who have grown up since have done so with a petrified version of national identity and historic revisionism that continues the segregation.

The bridge still had lots of people on it, as the famous ‘divers’ were preparing to jump. For the 10 minutes we were down there, they still had not jumped. So we ventured back up. On top of the bridge, we managed to squeeze in a photo and see the divers tout for donations. We returned to the other side of the bridge and, with two hours still to kill, noticed a roof top bar with a canopy above. We walked off the main riverside path, to the back of this building, and climbed up to the bar. We grabbed a couple of chairs under the canopy, but with a lovely view of the bridge and hillside behind. The added bonus was the water spritzers.

We ordered a couple of rounds of beers to pass the time, whilst I took pictures on my instant camera. We paid up then walked back, still with plenty of time before departure. We got a few extra snacks on the way at a chain supermarket, stopping in the grounds of a mosque for a look, and then picked up our luggage at the bus station. The bus arrived not long after. Again, this coach was another step up in modernity and comfort.

We had our tickets checked, and then threw in our backpacks, before settling in for the next leg of the journey. We departed on time, and crossed a bridge next to the station to drive on through the west side of town. Was this because the bus company was Croatian and this was the Croat side of town, I pondered? Anyhow, as soon as we cleared the south of the city, the hills all receded, and we were now on sloping floodplains descending towards the sea. We made one stop at Capljina, before heading to a rural and quiet border patrol before heading towards Ploce. We then headed south-east in order to pass twice through a border – from Croatia back into Bosnia, then Bosnia back into Croatia – as we passed through Neum. We stopped here at a hotel so the driver could rest, and passengers could use the facilities. I bought John and I an ice cream, as we moved away from the coach and looked at the gorgeous Adriatic as it came in to this shielded port with the sun setting in the background. Perfection

It had been a long day so far, so we slipped in and out of snoozing as we travelled in the dark. We wound around villages and small towns, and in and out of bays. We did not arrive until around 9pm, our welcome being the cruise ships parked at the newer port in the north of the city. We got off, and walked over to a taxi that took us to our apartment. We were met buy the cleaner, who gave us our keys, took copies of our passport, and proceeded to point out where we could go for food nearby. So we quickly refreshed and headed out. We were in an area that was very much a suburb, Babin Kuk, but you could sense many of these homes were holiday places. We walked up a short hill, then down a much steeper one, until we reached a roundabout that had a bit of life off two roads that led to it. We went down one and hit upon a series of restaurants. It seemed a bit ‘Brits abroad’. We just picked one at random and ate an OK meal. As we were tired, we returned to the apartment in no time and hit the sack, exhausted.

My Images of SEE – 08:32, Thursday 25th August

I dipped back in to the old town to eat. I went next door to where I ate last night and ordered steak. It was lovely. Not to outstay my welcome, I left as soon as I was finished (it was a small venue, so didn’t want to stop new customers) and went over to the City Pub. I had a couple of pints before going back to the hotel. Such was my last night in Sarajevo. At the hotel, I asked the lad on duty if my clothes were done, and they were! So I did 95% of my packing. I then drifted off to sleep.

I woke up around 08:15 and showered and changed first, then went for breakfast. The muscled guy was on duty this morning, so I helped myself to breakfast. I then dashed out, through the old town, to a sandwich shop I saw earlier in the week. So I got a cheese & tomato baton. I also collected some bananas from the ‘Konsum’ shop. I quickly packed my satchel then went downstairs. I thanked the lad, and asked him the protocol for getting the tram. So I walked to the stop that was in-between the hotel and the water spring, and bought the 1.5KM ticket from a kiosk. My tram No. 1 arrived 3 minutes later, and I got on then stamped my ticket. The latter point was important because 2 stops down, 4 inspectors got on. My ticket was fine, but a lad didn’t have one – tried to buy one, but got fined. One inspector, a stern looking woman, wrote down his details. I continued on to the train station. Once there, I lugged my bag inside then wrote out my ticket. I then went to Platform 1.

My train was 15 minutes late (not bad since it had to cross the border near Ploce). So I got on and into a cabin. Luckily these windows opened properly. A mother with son and daughter joined me as we set off, but she got off at the next stop. It was an extremely hot day, as we passed through familiar valleys, past Zenica, and up to Doboj. We then turned west on our journey, to Banja Luka. The train trundled along at 20 mph for about 15 miles. It was annoying. I just kept on reading, or falling in and out of sleep-induced consciousness.

The area became more plain-like, and agriculture still dominated. Still a smattering of mosques, but churches were more present here – definitely in Republika Srpska! However, not as many in density as the mosques. A lot of newly built or partially built homes were there too. The border was seamless enough, and then we picked up speed towards Zagreb. 20 minutes out, and you could see it sprawled out ahead, glowing in the distance, with a hill/mountain as a backdrop. The sun had gone now, but an orange glow still remained.

The station was modern enough, with a shopping centre below it, to a road that I needed to take. I walked over a main boulevard in to a residential area, quiet now – then found my hotel. The two girls were cheery enough, and wondering where I was. They called ahead to a restaurant for me, so I dropped my things and walked 200 meters to it. Lost in translation, I said to the English deprived waitress “salad” and “chicken”. The salad came sure enough, but followed by steak and chips – twice in 24 hours! Oh well, I was starving so tucked in hungrily. I had two ‘Pivo’s’ to help it go down too. I paid the 134K and then left for the comfort of my bed and slept.

My Images of SEE – 10:41, Fri 12th August

After coffee, we meandered our way back to the square, and to an Italian restaurant facing into the square. I had a pesto lasagne which was lovely. However we didn’t spend all of our time there, as we were harassed by a wasp. So we went over to Trend for a beer until 19:45. We then slowly walked back to the train station, bidding farewell to Skopje. We arrived at 20:10 and went direct to left luggage. We paid our 77 Denars and collected our belongings. We then went up to Platform 4. The train was already there, but the lights were out as people boarded. We just followed. The toilets look vile, however, in my condition, I think I can bear it. We found a cabin that was free and put our bags in the overhead holders. The cabin was old school in its set up. 3 chairs in a row, twice, with a sliding door and curtains to boot. It was dark outside now.

At 20:45 on the dot, we left. But that was about as much luck as we got last night. We had a nice and bouncy ride out of Skopje, when we suddenly stopped 10 minutes. 3 minutes later we continued, discovering our delay to be a road crossing. We bumped along to the border, 10 minutes late, and had our passports checked; the lady asked if we had anything to declare. 10 minutes later we stopped on the Serbian side. A repeat of the border procedure here too. Then we were still waiting. And waiting. The drilling began. About an hour later I saw, 2 carriages down, a worker drilling then climbing into the roof. They then came into our cabin. We had to move as they suspected something up in the roof. How odd. Didn’t look like there was enough room.

1 ½ hours later we had the all clear and departed. We were in a cabin with two local women, who Liam noticed were fascinated with my piercings. We then moved into another carriage as ours was shut off! So we knew that we would miss our connection, and confirmed this by the guard. So we sat there glum. It then dawned on us that we would need a hotel. So we fretted over that as the guidebook said that Nis train station was 2km out of the city.

At 03:05 we arrived at Nis. In vain, I asked if the Sofia train was late at the desk. It had gone. So we walked out of the station, and right, to the main road. It was quiet. We looked right and noticed two adverts for a hostel and a hotel. We opted for the hotel as it took credit cards. This was our 3^rd country, albeit unintentionally. We walked up a road off the main road; a wall had daubed on it a swastika. Our fears were raised. We then reached a junction, so decided on left. We then saw a pack of dogs. Fears raised more, but subsided once passed. The road was quiet and claustrophobic, and odd car would pass raising our heartbeats should they stop near us.

At another junction, we saw a sign with further directions to Hotel Tami. We walked 200m, then left at the lights for 1300m. We hugged a park to our left that curved left then straightened out. The odd car still passed, and we were now walking up hill. After what seemed like an eternity, we saw a sign pointing right. After 2 minutes up hill we saw in big red neon lights the hotel sign. What a relief. 

A fast pace took us to its doors. They had rooms, a twin, for €65 – excellent. It was 4* too! We handed over our passports then went upstairs to collapse. I returned to collect our passports and was relieved that they took Euro’s for Dinars. We drifted off at 04:30 until 09:00. We then had breakfast and prepared for the day.

My Images of SEE – 08:13, Wed 10th August

We gave up in the park after being approached by a woman asking for 20 cents. So we went to McDonalds. We wished away the last 40 minutes over a Cola and McFlurry. Very Western! We then walked down Egnatia to the hotel, collected out rucksacks then continued down Egnatia to Democracy Square – then on to the Law Courts. As we walked down this street, a bus was coming in the opposite direction. Surprisingly it was ours! So we waited next to it as the queues of people grew from 17:00 to 17:30.

However, during this wait I noticed that our tickets said the 8^th August for travel, not 9^th. So I dashed across the road, half expecting the place to be shut, but alas it wasn’t. A woman checked that I was supposed to be on today’s list and re-wrote the date on our tickets. Phew. So at 17:30 we were loading on to the bus, handing in our tickets to two female Simeonidis staff. We grabbed our seats, and no sooner than we plonked down, than a woman sat in front of me swishing her endless head of hair over the back of her seat, into my private space. I had to take a picture.

Once the bus filled, we then departed. We left Thessaloniki westward, then turned north into its rural hinterland. The area was low, arid, and quite devoid of life. It seemed a very agrarian part of Greece, if not representative of the whole of Greece. Mountains were visible in the distance, 30 minutes in; then a man present on the bus began collecting passports. So we just copied and handed them in. 

15 minutes later we were at the border. A massive queue of lorries stretched about a mile to get in. The young man and bus driver went to customs with our passports. 25 minutes later our bus moved on to a duty free shop in what I would describe as ‘no man’s land’, but was still theoretically Greece. After a toilet break we then entered the Republic of Macedonia. At the next gate, a Border Guard got on and collected passports. He took them and spent another 20 minutes checking them. We then continued our journey.

Macedonia was literally a different country. Where we were at present, in the far south, there were vineyards and masses amounts of greenery – not arid at all. There were rolling hills, and mountains in the distance. We crossed the Vardar a couple of times before reaching the valleys. These were superb, akin to the Conwy Valley. Luscious green forest spread to the waters edge on one side of the valley, but on its other bank provided for fertile land. These were being toiled as we drove past. Even in villages where the houses were closer together, people toiled their plots. It then started to get dusky.

We continued through tunnels before reaching the first of two plains, containing the town of Veles one could only presume. We whisked past this, for another 40 minutes, before reaching the plain containing Skopje. It was a large expanse incorporating a settlement near to the airport too, although that was to the east of the motorway. We arrived into the central bus station for 21:15 local time – 5 hours after departing.

We collected our belongings then walked through the bus station to the cash point. We then made the 8 minute journey to the Nice Hostel. It was in a 2 piece apartment block, on the 3^rd floor. Our host was there along with other residents. He showed us our room, which was clean but basic. He took our passports to inform the police of our arrival. He returned, gave us the Wi-Fi password, then we left to walk into town. We walked past the Assembly building to our left, and continued to the old Soviet style shopping mall. Oh how 2 ½ years has changed the city. There is now an ‘Arc de Triomphe’ just off the main square, and on it even more sights to be seen. A massive column some 70 ft high with a rider on horseback. Behind that, a religious figure sitting down. Clockwise 45 degrees from that a pillared dome for something. Then opposite the river, 3 massive new buildings under construction blocking the view of the Kale fort; and one was modeled on a Greco-Roman pillared theme. Ghastly.

We sat down at Pelister on the square and ordered and over-sized meal. Cheeses, hams and pitta. Way too much for us two. We had some beers and relaxed for 1 ½ hours. The square was bustling., and the people seemed a lot happier than when I was here before, a lot more approachable. Also, it seems miles ahead of Thessaloniki on being a modern city, just the way people dressed emitted that. We left at 23:30 for the hostel, then tried to sleep. The fan was giving us its all but it was boiling – so we had a rough sleep, if sleep we did. And I had a rough tummy and headache. Welcome to Macedonia! 

The context of the latter part of the entry above is that I visited Macedonia for my first time in February 2009. My trip, on the weekend of Valentine’s and St. Tryphon (the guardian of vineyards), came about because of my employment with the Labour Party. The Westminster Foundation for Democracy provides money for UK political parties to send staff to their sister parties in emerging democracies. I got chosen to go to Macedonia to present to the Social Democratic Union of Macedonia (SDSM, or CДСМ in Cyrillic). This party was formerly the League of Communists of Macedonia in the Yugoslav federation. I developed a two day training programme and delivered it to 20 youth members of the SDSM. Being the representative of the Labour Party in a foreign country was humbling, and a task I thoroughly enjoyed doing. This was my first visit to south-east Europe. I have been to Macedonia 3 times since then and am planning to go again this year. Back then, there was just a blank, wide open square at the city’s heart. The blankness ironically seemed to symbolise its grandness. The statues make it cluttered. But more on that later on.