I set of to yet
another country on the morning bus to Split. I actually managed to take one
that goes along the coastal road, possibly slower, but even once more standing
for most of the trip I enjoy the view of the turquoise sea, little bays and
harbors, the rocky islands in rows off the shoreline, definitely worth it.
In the bus to
Mostar there is no standing and as tickets for the morning bus are already sold
out I have to wait for some hours at the crowded bus station in Split. Finally
on the creaking and roaring vehicle I enjoy both the view and talking to a
Croatian-German going to Mostar to see family. At this point I am only mildly
bemused that her answer to my ‘the central bus stop in Mostar is next to the
train station, right?’ is ‘There is a train station?’
At the Bosnian
border I need my passport for the first time on this trip. The Croatians didn’t
bother with it although they haven’t joined Schengen yet. Majda’s Hostel is not
far from the bus (and railway) station and both the warm atmosphere and that Mariella
already told me so many good things about it make me instantly feel at home.
Majda really makes us feel like guests in a home and this also stretches to the
forming of a group from these randomly arrived travelers. In the evening around
ten of us have dinner together at a much recommended restaurant, in addition to
great amounts of great food it actually feels below 30 degrees on their
terrace.
The rest of the
evening and most of my next day I spend just wandering around criss-crossing in
and out of the Old Town. After severe destruction, most painfully also of the
Old Bridge that gives the town its name and coat of arms, the Old Town main
street and the bridge is now primly rebuilt. It is beautiful, but close up the
bridge looks so old and new at the same time, that I don’t know how often I
would have to cross it until I don’t notice that silent paradox anymore. The
liveliness both during the day and also in the late evening hours is what
really completes the picture to be as lovely as it feels to me.
Former six storey shopping center
Other streets carry
less fine scars. The frontline ran right through this quarter, the whole town
was a battlefield, bullet holes are still visible on many buildings and some
formerly big buildings still are in destruction. And, of course, there are
still other scars. The woman about my age who works in a souvenir shop near the Old Bridge tells us she
hasn’t been to the photo exhibition of Mostar during the war. She can’t, she
doesn’t want to. As I climb the minaret of a mosque – the cupola has been
restored by the Turkish government – I see a largely intact town bedded between
dramatic hills and stretching along a river. There are considerably more
minarets on one side of the Neretva and more church towers on the other. This is
a hint at the segregation of the ethnic/religious groups in this town that had
up to 70% of mixed marriages until the war. The vague “ethnic/religious” is me
trying to fine tune the simple logic of civil war that was also reproduced by Central
European media. What is actually ethnicity in this melting pot region with its
only now artificially divided languages (Bosnian/Serbian/Croatian)? What was
religion under communist rule? And how can these two be seen as one? I know the
phenomenon from Germany where many people still have problems to see that
someone can be German AND Muslim at the same time…
Much of the fine
tuning of my picture of Bosnia was gained during Bata’s tour, he is Majda’s
brother and throughout the hostel season he does a wildly energetic and diverse
12 hours tour on Mostar and Bosnia now and then, he insists we shouldn’t
believe him and never forget that this is his perspective that, of course, cannot
be neutral.
What can be
neutral? I don’t want to blow his secrets, of course, as I hope that many of you
will be able to take that tour themselves… So I’ll just say that it also made
me understand why, on top of the generous openness and hospitability, I could
instantly relate to Bosnia and Mostar. Situated at the corridor connecting
Europe and the Orient different cultures, languages, religions, ways of seeing,
shaping and structuring the world, goods and people, customs and dishes have been
moved hence and forth and created a unique mix that ultimately holds a little
bit of everything, and still is its own, unique, twisted and golden. And also
pretty much on its own.
Groups perceiving
themselves as ‘other’ obviously prefer to see what differs and not what is
shared. This being true for both sides gives fuel to conflict and living close
to each other sometimes results in a firestorm…
Another phenomenon
apparently fuelled in this region is spirituality. In Bosnia there are many tekkes
(houses of dervish orders) and the old Bosnians even had their own religion,
they called themselves Bogumils, loved by God, did not have church houses or elaborate
clerical hierarchies and like Sufism they were shunned as heretics by many
teachers of their, let’s say, cousins in faith.
A modern example of
spiritual impact is the neighboring Medugorje. After some children apparently (sic!)
saw the Virgin Mary some 30 years ago, the tiny village has grown into a
thriving center of pilgrimage business even though it is not approved of by the
Vatican.
As the hostel staff
is getting ready for Bajram, the Holiday of breaking the fast at the end of
Ramadan, my first stay in Mostar is coming to an end. Megan, Catherine and I
enjoy some coffee close to the bridge and soon it’s time to head back to the
bus station. Not without dipping in the Neretva – much less than half as warm
as the air and with unsurpassable current – or shaking hands with Bruce Lee,
though!
Bata says, don’t
say good-bye, wir sagen auf Wiedersehen.
So, see you,
Mostar!
Some more pictures
Street art inside the Sniper building: And God saw...
Outside of Mostar:
