Back to the Future

FOr dinner in Mostar, we tried to find this place that the woman at our hostel professed had the "best vegetable lasagna ever". We walked and walked but....could not find it. We ate pizza instead. But this time it had artichokes and we got a salad too. The food was pretty good, but the downside was that it was a smoking restaurant so it was a bit smoky....
Went back to our hostel nice and early (8:30) and we were served a cup of tea and biscuits (amazing!) while we got our stuff packed and together which for whatever reason was a hilarious experience. Remember, we packed very very light for this trip, but we have acquired a lot of souvenirs at this point and are no longer as light; fitting everything has become a big challenge.
After a less than restful night's sleep, the alarm went off and we shifted into high-get-out-the-door-in-less-than-20-mins-gear. Bags were rolling at 7:00 am. We decided to walk (as opposed to a $1.50 taxi) because it was so early we wouldn't get hot and a stroll would be nice before we sat on a train for awhile.
Well, the shortcut we tried to take was blocked so we had to go the extra long way and it was a humid 80+ degrees and the "stroll" turned into a run with our bags. Let's just say we broke our "don't sweat before 9:00 am rule."

Arriving at the train station in Mostar we were transported back to 1985. The tickets were handwritten (and cost only $11 each for what professed to be a 2.5 hour trip). There were no food shops, no stores, and only one bench on the platform. Luckily the morning sun was beating down on us to keep our sweat going. People were huddled (smoking) in the shade of the pillars.

When we were in Budapest last summer, we teased J an awful lot about the blue trains that were a gift from Stalin and have not been upgraded since. Well, those trains met their match when the Bosnian train circa 1950? pulled up and everyone tried to climb (I literally mean climb) on. The conductors wore little red hats and had signs to tell the train when it could go and it went at a speed of 20 miles per hour or so. We ended up in the smoking car with two young divas and a techno listening young man.

The train went through some beautiful mountain terrain, and we stopped at all these "stops" that looked like abandoned, looted stations with lots of trash around them. No one would get on or off, but a conductor would come out of the station and give the signal for the train to get going. Our stops progressively got longer and longer (1 minute, then 3, then 5, then 8). There was no food to be had (and Sue was hungry) but every once in awhile an old man with a mini shopping cart full of vodka, pepsi and beer wandered through the train selling his goods.

We'd been stopped at a stop in the middle of nowhere for awhile when one of the conductors walked through barking some information in Bosnian. People starting sighing, standing up. We asked the girls in our car what he said- the translation we got was "something went a little bit wrong. We are going to stop for a little while." Sue said, "oh, only a little while, that's good," and the other girl said, "it's not going to be just a little while, believe me."
Time to seize the day. We got off the train like everyone else and enjoyed the scenic view of the decrepid train station. After 20 minutes or so, the conductors who had been smoking and shooting the breeze together, all ran toward the train. All the relaxing passengers followed suit and so did we. Soon the whistle blew, and off we went. Wonder what "a little problem" means?

Honestly the ride was like what you would imagine Soviet era transport. But the views were amazing. We chugged through Alp like mountains that were peppered with little villages and small farms and hastacks. For the first hour or so the track followed a beautiful blue green river that cut through the mountains. At one point out the window, 2 men were leading a horse drawn cart pulling hay and when the train whistle blew the horse took off. It was quite a show.
Now, the train station in Sarajeov (after a 4 hour train ride- things don't run on schedule here). Again, think 1985. We think that things were upgraded here in the early 1980's for the Olympics (held in 1984 in Sarajevo) and then were set back by the war. Public transport has not been upgraded since then and the trams and busses look like Stalin could be on them (J- moreso than Budapest!).
As we exited the station, we walked out front to buy a tram ticket- tram 1, 5 stops to our hostel. We knew where we were going. Price 1.6 KM. There were a bunch of guys from New York with no idea where they were going. They were trying to get info from the non-English speaking ticket seller and finally gave up and just yelled out, "does anyone know how to get to the center of town?" Of course we helped them, but were greatful that we had become much more savvy....to think they are renting a sailboat next week and sailing down the whole Croatian coast, but cannot get to the center of town.
As we left on the tram we saw the infamous Holiday Inn (where reports stayed during the war). Although the town is a bit somber and dated, it has been rebuilt much better than Mostar (the war damage is much less in-your-face). But, with the busses and trams and the old old cars and the narrow roads without signs and the trash it feels like you are in a south american country. By that we mean a developing country with some very modern people living in it.

That said, the old town is beautiful and the "new town" has some very ritzy shopping, lots of nice cafes and restaurants and bars. There is definately a communist-era influence here. There are some beautiful buildings (some which were destroyed and are workingt to be rebuilt still). But many of the buildings are drab and industrial. THe city is nestled in the mountains and all around it houses extend up the steep mountains. Very beautiful. In only 10 minutes we were able to walk out of the city and into the suburbs.

We ate dinner at a little vegetarian restaurant with amazing food and a really wonderful Bosnian waiter/owner/cook who sat down and talked with us for half an hour about the war. He was fascinating to listen to. During the war, he left with his baby son and wife and lived in Germany for 5 years; the Germans apparently opened their borders and gave monetary help and jobs to more than 400,000 Bosnian refugees (thus, many Bosnians speak fluent German and have a lot of respect for Germany). He helped explain why there was so much trash around and why we didn't see any homeless people (which we just can't quite understand as the unemployment rate is between 30 and 45%), why there isn't much drugs or prostitution for a poor country. He talked about the tensions that still persist between the different ethnic groups. Through all of this, we still have no idea as to whether he is a Serb, Croat or Bosniak. He claims to be pacifistic and to stay away from politics.

It was a lovely warm evening and we walked the long way back to our room via the bustling new town. When we got back to our room at 9:15 (we are exhausted at this point as we have been going since 6:30 am in the heat) there is something wrong with the lock on the outside door. We cannot get in. After some minor tinkering (we didn't want to look like we were breaking in- how would we explain ourselves to the Bosnian police?) we gave up. Here we should note that we have a "satelite hostel room"- about an 8 minute walk from the hostel, in seperate apartment building. We go to the hostel (reluctantly and grumpily) for help. The man at the desk comes back with us and confirms that the door is not working despite pushing and pulling and shoving. After some hemming and hawwing and trying some phone numbers and text messaging, he finally rings the buzzer on one of the dark apartments upstairs (not a single apartment has a light on). What ensues is a 15 minute battle with 2 old ladies who thought we broke the door. They were in their windows yelling down. When they finally came down, they were really mad to find that they could not get out the door either. Good thing we don't understand Bosnian because there was a lot of yelling and cursing. Finally, they got a man in a very small tank top to get a ladder and help from the inside. More yelling, pushing, groaning. At 10:15 we were let into our room and the guy from the hostel had gotten quite an earful from the old ladies. Whew.

As a side note:  we haven't been mentioning cats much in our blog, and I apologize to all of our cat fans out there.  There are cats almost everywhere we've been.  In Mostar there were some little black kittens!  They look better than the cats in Dubrovnik (more taken care of) but most of them are still street/ restaurant cats.  We have bought some dry cat food that we sprinkle out for them.

That's why we are blogging this morning and not last night.

We have a big and exciting day ahead- details later.