Every serious traveler would sooner or later encounter a haunting destination that transcends the traveling experience with lifelong impacts on his or her world view.
One of mine was Mostar.
Before presenting my favorite city in the Balkans, I must forewarn that the second half of this post is much darker than my typical entries on regional delicacies and favorite photo spots. Surely Mostar is sensational both gastronomically and visually, but it goes much deeper for travelers willing to learn the painful lessons of humanity from the locals.
For the majority of casual tourists though, Mostar is breathtakingly beautiful as a medieval Balkan town with its distinct exotic charm. Search up images of Bosnia and the results will inevitably show Mostar's Stari Most, a magnificent Ottoman bridge arching 80 feet above the emerald water of the Neretva.
Slender minarets puncture the medieval skyline of 16th century Ottoman houses on both sides of the Neretva, picture perfect and deceptively serene so long as one does not ask any questions about ethnic tensions beyond the tourist district.
Geometric patterns grace the foot-polished cobblestones of 500-year-old Ottoman bazaars, now peddling everything from war memorabilia to artisan glassworks to handcrafted silver at seemingly implausible prices that make Mostar a shopping paradise for hundreds of day-trippers on organized tours passing through between Dubrovnik and Split.
Fiery raki and ice cold beer flow liberally at Mostar's laid-back nightlife district, surprising perhaps for a Muslim majority country except to those old enough to remember a united Yugoslavia when citizens enjoyed the most freedom of any Communist State.
Lip-smacking selections of Bosnian grilled meats await in a carnivore's dream of Pljeskavica patties, Cevapi meatballs, Kobasice sausages and assorted Shish Kebabs, all served here with buttery Kajmak cheese on the side at Cevabdzinica Tima Irma (see map) just west of Stari Most.
Ignoring the artery-clogging side effects, few foodies can resist the temptation of a perfectly grilled Pljeskavica, a cheese-stuffed gourmet patty best enjoyed with a side of spicy onions and a generous dollop of a zesty bell pepper sauce known as Ajvar. To fellow travelers on a modest budget, our ginormous meat platter for two not only cost a reasonable 15 euros, but also gave us enough leftovers for dinner.
In case 3.75 euros per meal still sounds expensive, authentic Bosnian fast food is served at even cheaper rates at the half-century-old local institution of Cevabdzinica Spile (see map), well-hidden among auto repair shops and neighbourhood bakeries in a residential quarter just south of the tourist bazaar.
An impossible 2.5 euros buys a whopping 15 pieces of fresh grilled Cevapcici, tossed with onions and a spread of Ajvar and wrapped in pillowy Lepinja flatbread for a filling and unmistakably Balkan take-out.
North of the Bazaar stands the 400-year-old Mosque of Koski Mehmed Pasha, restored after suffering severe damages during the Bosnian War and best known for its unbeatable view of Mostar's historic quarters from its tall minaret.
Emerging from a claustrophobic climb through a constricted spiral staircase, our eyes were opened to this classic postcard view of the Stari Most, widely considered the most beautiful bridge in the Balkans and hailed as a cliff diving mecca according to the Red Bull Cliff Diving World Series which held an event here just three days earlier.
Another architectural gem is the 250-year-old Biscevic House, cantilevered above riverside cliffs and showcasing elaborate details from the Ottoman period. Its survival of the Bosnian War was almost miraculous considering the 18th century landmark's unfortunate location at the frontline.
As if the photogenic charm, scrumptious regional cuisine and cheap shopping aren't enough to entice travelers, the locals are some of the friendliest and most honourable people we have met.
At East Mostar we visited a farmer's market where -- like many traditional markets in Europe -- prices for fresh produce were not easily decipherable to outsiders. So I pointed to a vendor's assortment of figs and held a handful of Bosnian Marks for the vendor himself to pick out as fair payment. After taking 5 Marks (2.5 euros), the old man began filling a plastic bag with more figs than we could finish, at which point we motioned for him to stop. I didn't know what the fair price for figs were in Bosnia, but this was roughly 8 euros' worth of figs where I live in Canada.
Now the old vendor could have stopped and simply thanked me for my business, but he didn't. Seeing that we did not receive his idea of a fair share of fruit for the 2.5 euros we paid, he started forcefully gifting me a large bunch of his favorite muscat grapes, or specifically for my wife to whom he was motioning. So we ended up with two varieties of seasonal figs pictured above, in addition to the grapes in the background.
Well the figs were sweet, but those complimentary muscats were the most delicious green grapes either of us had ever tasted. I've had excellent muscats especially at Japan's Okayama Prefecture, but these sweet Bosnian grapes featured such a pronounced fragrance on the palate that made it simply incomparable.
And we would have never found out without the gracious vendor.
But that still wasn't our most enduring memory of Bosnia. For that, I have to start with our rental house in East Mostar.
At the time I had little idea about the invisible segregation between East and West Mostar. Our house happened to be located in the eastern hills just above Stari Most, a 5 minute taxi ride upon arriving at the East Bus Station. This was also before I learned the significance of the East versus the West Bus Station.
Numerous times we passed by the local Bosniak cemetery en route to Stari Most, often with me counting the staggering number of people of my age who died as teenagers in 1993. A local said that half of his graduating class were buried right here, and it was sobering to realize that I graduated almost that same year, but in a faraway land with no war.
Next to the cemetery stands this picturesque 16th century Mosque of the historic Bosniak neighbourhood frequented by tourists. Most visitors however don't realize that there is a Croat half of the city on the opposite bank, dotted with Roman Catholic churches and sporting a gigantic white cross on the western hill top.
The frigid Neretva serves as the de facto boundary between the Bosniaks and the Croats, each with its separate postal service, utilities company, telecom provider and perhaps most importantly, school system to teach future generations about their own versions of history.
Each bridge across the Neretva is an invisible border crossing between the two ethnic groups ruling the two sides of the same town. The pictured Stari Most collapsed under intense firepower at the height of the war and was later rebuilt, though the majority of collapsed buildings and mortar shell marks remain unrepaired as vivid reminders of the city's darkest hour.
The most harrowing landmark from the Bosnian War remains standing on the Croat side of the river, menacingly looking over the Bosniaks as it did 25 years ago when Croat snipers used the former bank building as the ultimate vantage point to pick out random Bosniaks on the opposite side.
It is impossible for today's visitors to the Bazaar to fully appreciate the Bosniak fear of walking down the same street during the war, or the heaviness of the local saying that "if you could see the Sniper Tower, the snipers could see you." Croat survivors would tell similar stories of their own struggle and grief, and how there are no winners in war.
"We are all living under the same sky," proclaims a graffiti across the street from the Sniper Tower. Three corners of the intersection still lie in ruins, with the fourth occupied by a memorial honouring the 21 Spanish peacekeepers who gave their lives during the Bosnian War.
Immediately behind the memorial is the most prestigious secondary school in Mostar and one of the most prominent in the entire country. The 21st century incarnation of Gimnazija Mostar was recreated in 2004 from the amalgamation of one Bosniak and one Croat school as an experiment, though students are still segregated along ethnic lines aside from a few peripheral subjects such as P.E. and foreign languages.
For those of us living in Western Europe or North America, the last we heard of racial segregation likely referred to South Africa in the 1980s. Thankfully Bosnia isn't quite at the same level, but even parents may have a hard time understanding the need to teach the sciences in separate Bosnian and Croatians languages, when the two are mutually intelligible and were treated as one when the parents themselves went to school in the former Yugoslavia.
Meanwhile the scars remain, and the entrenchment deepens as ethnically-motivated politicians continue to exploit their own school curricula to magnify the differences between Bosniaks and Croats. Skeptics even suggest a truly sinister reason for not dismantling the ruined Sniper Tower, in case a second Bosnian War breaks out.
After the Sniper Tower we had the most depressing dinner back at our rental house in the Bosniak quarter, downing cans of Sarajevsko while savouring the figs and grapes from our favorite vendor mentioned above. Everyone we met in Bosnia were most welcoming and kind, which saddened us even more as we pondered the future of a deeply fragmented nation still teaching its next generation to separate rather than unite.
The Sniper Tower itself has become a giant graffiti canvas and ground zero for youthful defiance, across from the secondary school where the students themselves have protested against segregation especially in this Internet age. Deep in my heart I do fear for another Bosnian civil war in my lifetime, though there is hope if the youth are better than the adults at learning the painful lesson.
Now you know why Mostar was the most memorable destination of our 22 day itinerary across the Balkans, but for the most heartbreaking reasons. But it is an important lesson to learn even for those of us blessed enough to grow up at peacetime. Even if we can't avoid conflicts, we should at least learn to reconciliate well. Just remember the sobering consequences in the example of Mostar.
