The Wild East

"The householder kept saying 'Yappi- doo' to us."

Wednesday 31-7-01 onwards.

As they approached I froze and refused to step into the road, but I think they were just locals walking through.
Then there was the lung-destroying pollution- no air vents or exhaust emission control, and no wind makes for the worst air imaginable. Eventually I saw a chink of light and started running towards it.
Poor Mark couldn't follow suit since his sandals wouldn't allow him to.

My hands were black with grime, and tracksuit bottoms covered in dust. We were on an overpass. The next challenge was to make it across, avoiding a parked lorry, and trying not to fall off the bridge a good 30 feet, since the crash barriers were sometimes destroyed.
I was really regretting coming to Sarajevo at this point.
It was horrible, getting late, and we had nowhere to stay. There was the prospect that we might have to walk back through the tunnel and sleep in the railway station….
We looked like aliens. Conversations stopped when we walked past. People stopped to look at the sight of tourists/backpackers. It was more surprise than hostility though.

The first hotel we tried was completely empty. The receptionist was good-looking, about 25, and caked in make-up.
The guidebook said it was 200DM(70 pounds)/night. I thought (naively) that we'd get it for less, since it appeared to be completely free of guests. And she'd take pity on us with our bedraggled appearance, especially me with my grime-caked hands, filthy tracksuit bottoms, unshaven for days, look of desperation….??
Wrong!!!!!
It was a straight 200DM (Breakfast included!).
We mumbled something about not having enough money, but she didn't look sympathetic.
"Have you got anything cheaper?" we begged, but she just smiled and shook her head.
The next place was also empty and 230DM.

It was beginning to get dark.
The best plan of action was to head downhill into the town centre. It was difficult to pinpoint our location, since the Lonely Planet map was abysmal, with most streets omitted. We approached something that looked like the town centre, and there were a lot of people around.
There were absolutely no other backpackers around, and people walking past would stare at us. They didn't look threatening though, in fact people looked pretty happy!
One of the few places in Central/Eastern Europe where people occasionally smile at you.
The road was busy, about every 10th car was a white UN jeep.

We got into the room-finding agency.
We were the only people in, and it was run by a man with a Walrus moustache.
The Walrus said he'd take us there in his car. While we waited for the man to return, Mark and I speculated what kind of car he would drive.
It was a shiny Mercedes.
Thinking about it we paid 128DM. The householder probably gets about 20DM if he's lucky, so The Walrus is doing OK for himself. A winner in the new "market" economy.

The householder spoke no English, and began to explain in fluent Serbo-Croat (with excessive gestures) something about the water being turned off every night, and gave us some Sprite bottles filled with water.
I felt in good spirits though now, the nightmare journey seemed another world away. Turkish-style music was blaring out of the radio.
The householder kept saying "Yappi- doo" to us. I presume this was some form of pleasantry, or greeting. Taylor looks indifferent and slightly bored as the landlord continues to relent what may have been stories, advice or warnings in a foreign language. After learning a bit of Russian I now think he said "Ya Idoo"- I am going...

We walked back into Sarajevo centre, avoiding the random pieces of concrete (nails included) discarded by the road. Bosnia's Muslim heritage was on display, as we had to walk past the Iranian, and Pakistan Embassies.
Dinner was at an outdoor café, with the Bosnians; a pizza, washed down with beer- 5DM each. Bosnia is expensive. The restaurants were charging at least 15-20DM (£5-7 for the very cheapest main course).
Something just struck me as being totally obvious: In order for somewhere to be really cheap it has to be rich enough so the locals can eat out, or have moderate amounts of tourists around. The Bosnians can't afford to eat out, so the restaurants are geared for internationals, and UN-types who have money to throw away (while justifying themselves that they're helping the locals).
We were able to buy beers for around 3DM (£1), which the locals were also consuming.

Thursday
We changed money at the bank, bought some pastries for 1KM, and headed to the northern outskirts of town. Once up the hill, the war damage becomes more visible. Kosevo Stadium is here also, which was where the 1984 Winter Olympics were held, and is now a mass-graveyard, with the tattered and charred rings visible in the background.
In the outer suburbs the blocks of concrete flats were also visibly scarred from the 1992-95 shelling. None of the flats have adverts on, and everything is very grey.
People still have to live there though, even though its probably unheated in the winter, and without lights. There were a lot of buildings still in ruins, with the sandbags, and barbed wire in place. It looked like it was formerly the front line.
This was not a place to stray off the tarmac.
Back towards the centre we went through our favourite tunnel again, which wasn't nearly so threatening in the daylight, and browsed through the market, which was selling cheap washing powder, and the like.

When entering Sarajevo's only supermarket Taylor was so eager to get an ice cream, he fell into the freezer!
Oh and we got talking to some British peacekeepers. They were two officers, extremely well-spoken, and seemed to have a cushy life- strolling round the cafes ordering coffee, and complaining of the "frightful heat".
They didn't seem all that impressed with us (I think when we told them we were from Manchester, they dismissed us).
While there are new buildings springing up around, there are still far more shelled, and burnt-out ones around. Bosnia doesn't yet have a McDonalds, but no doubt this will change soon. The currency was the Deutschmark (now Euro?), an a place where $ don't get you that far.

Friday
Almost missed the train- it was a good 4km walk to the station, which we underestimated.
A Bosnian family board the train at Zenica. They were very friendly, and shared all their food with us, so we did likewise.
They are currently living in Canada- some of the lucky ones who managed to flee abroad.
On the way out of Bosnia, the border guards tried to make out we had Irish passports. Then they tried to 'fine' us $60 each for not having transit visas (which we didn't need).
This was all a scam, and we had no proof of legal entry, since our passports (deliberately?) hadn't been stamped. The Bosnians said something, remonstrating with the guards, and they left empty-handed.
With just me and Mark there I don't know what would have happened……we may have left $100 dollars lighter.

Getting back into Zagreb was another culture shock- suddenly we were back amongst the tourists, bright adverts, and polished streets. sarajevo was suddenly like a dream.

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