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Sarajevo Travel - Moving on from the Bosnian WarThe first thing we realised about Sarajevo was how heartbreakingly beautiful it actually was. We had pictured the city as what we knew it for: the city from the television news, its name conjuring up haunting images of the Bosnian war: machine gun fire, tanks in streets, burning buildings, people in despair. But as the two-carriage night train rumbled along the first terracotta-coloured roofs of the outskirts, and, conveniently, the first sun beams broke through the early morning sky, the worried thoughts were quickly forgotten. Sarajevo is set into stunning scenery. Nestled in a valley, the city is surrounded by lush green mountains and crossed by the narrow river Miljacka. The cityscape is dominated by small houses, plenty of green spaces and the white towers of the city's many mosques, that majestically rise everywhere. With only 600,000 inhabitants, it's a small city, with a welcoming, comforting atmosphere. Mentioning Bosnia's capital as a holiday destination is still sure to raise eyebrows among friends and family. Yet, ten years after the war ended, Sarajevo seems set to become a world-class tourist destination again, something it has been aspiring to ever since hosting the 1984 Winter Olympic Games. The place we stayed at was a slightly shabby, independent hostel, conveniently located in the heart of the city. Hostels like this are spread all over Sarajevo, catering for the growing number of backpackers that flock here. Among independent travellers, Sarajevo is hot property; of the many travellers we met during a trip through Eastern Europe, no one had missed the city. Most came with slight reservations, only to be surprised in what good shape it actually was careful signs that widespread tourism might be lurking behind the corner. In the shared hostel kitchen conversations were as much about the latest bar, the best club, and the city's fast-changing exhibitions, as they were about the siege. Here, and on the busy streets, we felt the healthy normality of a city in the middle of slow, but steady recovery. Sarajevo nowadays is a modern and dynamic city, cultured and pulsating with life and changing constantly, as a Canadian told us who liked it so much he moved here. The city's heart is the picturesque Bascarsija district, stretching from the Sebilji square, jokingly referred to as Pigeon Square, courtesy of the many birds that live here, to the river Miljacka. A labyrinth of cobble-stoned narrow streets, the Old Town is buzzing with small cosy cafes, where locals sip coffee while reading the paper. Bosnians love their coffee; they drink it black with lots of sugar, and always served in specially-crafted small cups with long handles on a little brass tray. In Bascarsija, coffee was everywhere. Besides the cafes and restaurants, small shops lined the streets, selling clothes and shoes, but most notably cutlery, jewellery and all sorts of brassware, made by traditional craftsmen who noisily worked inside their shops. Young couples browsed the outlets for necklaces and rings, old men sat on benches, leisurely smoking and talking, and tourists tried to bargain over traditional coffee sets. Bascarsija is also a stunning testament of the city's diversity of religious worship. Here we found a grand mosque next to a synagogue, next to an Orthodox church, next to a Catholic church. It probably is this diversity, and the tolerance that comes with it, that makes Sarajevo such a heart-warming place. Eastern and Western culture mingle easily in this multicultural, cosmopolitan city, producing a fascinating cultural richness. Strolling the streets, we had the impression it had never been different. And yet, it's not possible to shrug off one of the cruellest ethnic conflicts the European continent has ever seen just like that. The wounds are still there, and you can see them. Travelling into the city from the train station, the rusty tram rattled along the city's most infamous thoroughfare. Easily visible from the surrounding mountains, sniper's alley' was the blood-stained centre of Serbian shelling and bombing. Dauntingly looming over the city, the completely burnt-out, grey shell of the high-rising parliament building, one of the most visible reminders of the past, stands here, next to the yellow Holiday Inn Hotel, home to journalists during the siege. The city is still covered with bullet-ridden walls and the infamous Sarajevo roses', haunting markings of places where people got killed. At graveyards white crosses commemorate the 10,000 victims. One of Sarajevo's most visited tourist destinations lies in the suburban outskirts. Here is the entrance to the hand-dug tunnel that secretly connected Sarajevo under siege with the outside world, a lifeline for a city waiting for UN help in vain. Edis Kolar, who lives in the house with his family today and himself helped dig the tunnel, keeps the legacy alive and showed us the 25m of it that still remain. From the suburbs we took a bus to the other side of the city, a journey not only across Sarajevo, but from the past to the now and here. Half way up a green mountain, we could see the whole city sprawling across in front of us. New office blocks seemed to point into the future optimistically, while damaged and decayed roofs here and there got almost lost among the sea of renovated and new-built houses. In the distance, the forests covering the hills were as lush and green as they must always have been. Coincidentally, it was time for the midday prayer and the muezzins' calls started coming out of the mosques. Mixed with the familiar noises of modern city-living, they flew up the hill to us as one incomprehensible, but strangely intriguing sound, just as we left. Back in Bascarsija, sipping a local beer next to Pigeon Square and watching Sarajevans on their way home from work mingle with tourists looking for a place to eat, we decide that's exactly what Sarajevo 2005 is: strangely intriguing. In a very infectious kind of way.
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