Crossroading in Mostar

Mostar was tantalizing for me. It was my first visit to a city with visible, historic and ongoing Islamic culture, architecture, traditions, and (as its famous bridge symbolized before the 1990s saw it destroyed in the violence of the Balkans) a place of balance between diverse ethnic and religious groups. I left hungry for more - both to get past the somewhat touristy center of the town, but also to explore more places like it. I won't visit Istanbul while a dangerous authoritarian is in charge of Turkey (I only tolerate despots in my home country thankyouverymuch) but it's achingly high on my list of places I'd like to go. In any event, after the jump: Mostar, Bosnia!

Mostar from atop a minaret, with its old bridge rebuilt for a new page of history.

Kate and I spent most of our time here wandering - the touristy center, all cobblestones and shops and huge piles of meat in cafes, coalescing in the iconic old bridge; but also some less-polished areas, seeking out some street art and generally just trying to get a feel for what day to day life is like around here.

It's-ameeee I climbed a thing and you can only slightly tell how nervous it makes me!

While I don't know that I'd say we got under the surface, one of the most rewarding pieces of this leg of the trip was getting to chat with people here - it is an incredibly friendly culture, tremendously hospitable and welcoming. Our second morning, we went to a local farmer's market and found the vendors eager to share their wares with us, offering sample after sample of local brandies, honey, and other specialties. Kate stopped at another stall to buy a little fruit for a snack, and the woman running the stand refused to take payment - it was a gift for a visitor. It was really moving and lovely!

Back down at the base of the minaret. One great thing about this area was hearing the call to prayer booming out several times a day.

One of the major draws had been a chance to explore a bit of Islamic-influenced culture - when the Ottomans occupied this region, they'd spread their religion through incentives (rather than requiring it by force) and there are still many Bosniak muslims here. Because of the town's touristy trade, this particular mosque was set up to accommodate visitors, with the prayer area separated for worshipers but viewable from the visitors' section. Getting to explore the building while reading about the practice within was pretty great.

Probably my favorite of the street art panels just north of the old town center.

Of course, the city's legacy is marked by the ethnic and religious violence of the 90s, whipped up by horrifying leaders who used racial and religious resentment as fuel to convince their citizens to participate in ethnic cleansing. Many buildings, especially outside the core, are still pockmarked with shrapnel and bullet holes. An cemetery near our AirBnB had death dates entirely from the mid-90s, as it was the one site that was dark enough to enable Bosnians to bury their dead under cover of night at a time when snipers made it impossible to go out by day. Throughout the Balkans there are stories like this, along with a lot of people trying to find their way to a peaceful future of coexistence, though there's still plenty of finger-pointing in the mix. In some ways this serves as a grim reminder to how places can get torn apart by leaders who thrive on spewing hate and annointing scapegoats. I don't think America's on the cusp of something like this, exactly. But I also know we're not above it or beyond it.

"Don't forget. But do forgive. Forever."

 But. The people. Jaz, whose hands you can see below, runs Cafe Alma, where he walks visitors through the history and the ritual of Bosnian coffee, sharing a bit of his own story and welcoming you like family. He wants his shop to be a place for connection; when it's busier than it was for us, he often seats groups together, but even on our sleepy morning we made a surprise connection with a street artist from Bristol, and Jaz seemed deeply satisfied. "This happens all the time," he said.

Bosnian coffee setup! THIS WAS SWELL AS I HAVE INDICATED

 In short, while the pace of the trip and the geography of the place limited how under the skin we could get, we both loved Mostar a lot. So much so, in fact, that we booked tickets to Split for a 6 AM bus that never showed up, ensuring we'd get an extra five hours while we waited for the next one to arrive! Yayyyy more time in Mostar!

This was a bit of a bummer, honestly as it meant blowing the only connection I could make to my next planned destination, Plitvice Lakes (click those links and you'll see why I'm still a bit heartbroken to have missed out). And I did get sad and frustrated, for a few moments. But man, friends are good in all things: Kate was patient with my sadness and frustration despite her own grumpiness, and helped me rebound. (She also, fortunately, had booked a place in Split, which was where we were planning to part ways, so I wasn't homeless for the night.) So, out a pile of Euro for the bus and an overnight stay in Plitvice, I still got to hang with my friend and made my alternative plans to arrive in Zagreb the following day. Little rattling episodes that don't become trip-ruining disasters: this is becoming one of my favorite new things, really. Up next: Zagreb, where I found my ideal city tempo again!

Slouching on the roof of the Mostar bus station, trying to dodge the sun and waiting for... the future.