I go You go Slavia

So I nearly didn’t write a blog cos I got pissed off earlier last week and had some shitty news then I thought it would consume the next blog and there would be an underlying tone of anger, except, I’ve decided to just get over it because there is a story here that needs to be told. Having been to Croatia numerous times already, and twice to Slovenia, I thought it was time to explore the wider Former Yugoslavia. On the 9^th October, after two days of re-set in Londres to basically wash ALL my clothes from South America and eat at Roxies. I landed in Dubrovnik, a place I’ve been numerous times before. My only goal of the trip was to eat Grilled Octopus every day.

I walked to the AirBnb Margarita (which I can highly recommend), even though I split my jeans unnecessarily jumping up a fence to get to my AirBnb and misconstrued the instructions, attending to every large tree in the vicinity before getting to the right one by simply using Google Maps, I was in high spirits, albeit a little scared my arse was hanging out whilst greeting my host with my Langchump covering the front of me to prevent flashing. . Lunchtime, I achieved my goal when I visited the number 1 TripAdvisor restaurant and accompanied my delicious tentacles with some local wine in my favourite kind of glass that fits your nose in it. I even ignored the fact I’d split my jeans (probably attributed to the additional blubber obtained from South America) and had a chocolate lava cake for dessert.

The weather was super so I walked to the beach and spent all day there and managed a snooze, as again I’d had a 4:30am Uber. After, I stupidly went and had dinner, Gnocchi and even dessert before I lumped my fat arse back for some rest before the bus to Montenegro.

The bus was quite funny. It arrived an hour late and the Croatian guy was this old C you Next Tuesday who yelled at as many people he could for not printing tickets, however it rather settled and after two hours I arrived in Kotor. I googled Thai massage, as my back was sore from first world travelling problems, such as plane and bus rides, and went and spent 4 times what my accommodation cost for the night. This set the trend for the holiday. Here, I stayed at Old Town Hostel and met some new friends at dinner, including an in denial of being Gay Aussie Guy, a young blue eyed couple from Tassie, a lovely young lady Maddie (also Aus) and a few French. Another Aussie guy called Farley was staying in my room, just the two of us, romantic as. My favourite joke when Farley introduced himself was to tell people he was named after the family dog. However he actually was named after his grandma.

We started the next perfect day together with eggs bene at a local restaurant called Astoria, where I saved his life from two wasp stings by tending to him with ice and antihistamine, before we trekked up the castle on the hill – up the local ‘free entry’ way. During this hike, we met an almost 79 year old lady from Russia powering up. It made me remember the strong ladies I’ve had and lucky to have in my life, picturing a determined Nonna and Granny. We also had a third wheel on our journey, an Indian guy, who was barely Indian as he didn’t really talk about cricket. He told us about a place up the mountain that sold fresh cheese so we were searching for the place when I spotted a baby brown snake and realised, the search was more perilous than I’d hoped with the overgrown grass surrounds. We found the  place and were greeted by an old drunk handing us Rakija and cheese and meat platter that was bought from a store, contrary to the homemade statement. I had enough of fake Indian and we set off leaving him in our wake, Farley trying to convince me to go to the steep trail right to the top to see the view ‘opened up’ to which I shut him down saying there was ‘no fucking way’ I was doing more than the bare minimum and we trot off to the castle. We took a few quick snaps and before heading down the usual tourist way which was thousands of steps. I really hated this, but I was grateful for my long legged stride as it seemed to work with pace. Worst part was I kept telling him how awful it was and asking if it would ever end. He kindly laughed before we set off to the bus to head to the beach, which was also my idea. During the bus ride we worked out that we grew up close, he in Lakes Entrance and me obvs in Traralgon, albeit a few years apart. I was super impressed when I found out he had studied Mechatronics, as per my fav first ever housemate Caz Tan (Birdsong).

Budva was beautiful. We spotted umbrellas perched on the edge of the old town and decided to go there for a feed. We arrived to this old dude, taking his time to serve us, realising it was pricey but not really caring, and ordered a bottle of prosecco. We had the place to ourselves and the man told us the kitchen was not yet open. We downed prosecco, olives and cheese and soon, the man returned to take our order. Farley ordered a burger and the man was like ‘only for Russians this shit’ and made him order beef steak, and I had the veal.  The food was incredible and the man was so good though our bill was only 40 or so each, and set off to the beach to chill, before heading back on the bus to join the hostel crew for the dinner boat cruise. Everyone was giving us shit about our couply date but we had such a great day, I don’t think either of us gave two shits. We headed out to the only bar and some random Aussie weirdo called Shaggy from some outback town gave me a massage.  The next day Farley left for Albania and I decided to stay another so I could take advantage of the weather on the booze cruise and get some rays, rather than join him on a hike. I left the following morning after I had a shitty morning with shitty news about people being shitty I then made my day shittier by arriving at the wrong airport for my flight to Belgrade and had to fork out 85 euro for a new flight – so after my short 45 minute 160 euro flight I arrived in Belgrade then caught the wrong bus and had to walk 2kms to Arkabarka the floating hostel. Fair to say I was a hot mess when I arrived. So sad and angry at life I was greeted by nice-ish Serbs and a yoga teacher and promptly booked the morning session to help calm the farm.  

I took myself out for a nice dinner then came back to the hostel to start to read the book I’d carted across South America and hadn’t started and try get an early night. Only problem with my double bed score, was that there was an elderly lady from Germany that snored the house down. Introduce me, world’s worst sleeper and the first of my restless nights. The next day I did the walking tour and heard the Serb side of history. Blamed for the war, the country economy plummeted, the dollar exponentially falling up to 16 % daily, the country was thrown in to despair. The local mafia became rich, whilst everyone else barely fed themselves. I was somewhat preoccupied during the tour as I hadn’t yet organised the car to Sarajevo the next day. There was no doubt Belgrade was awesome and there was an awesome floating nightlife that evening. I will definitely come back again one day and spend more time there. I launched myself across town that night in search to fulfil my craving for thai food. There were only two in the city so I walked 2.8 miles across highways and finally got my pad thai. Although it was almost darkness, and I didn’t feel too unsafe, I thought it best I do their equivalent of Uber home and had to double check when a very youthful tall good looking guy picked me up instead of the old dude in the pic I was expected. The number plates matched though so I got in and hot young man explained it was his dad’s heap of junk he was driving. Hot guy aka son of Namanja was a basketball coach. His mum and sister were architects and that’s all I could remember. He dropped me off and I cursing myself I didn’t get his details. 

That night – old lady informed me she had to get up at 3:30am and hoped she wouldn’t wake me. Hard to wake someone that can’t sleep through ear plugs because she was snoring so loud! But when her alarm went off I had just myself fallen in to a lucid dream and during I was telling her I hadn’t told her off for her loud snoring, so hurry the fuck up and get the hell out of the room, instead of piss farting around packing what only sounded like plastic bags! Finally she fucked off and I was then alarmed myself at 7am for shower and breaky before the 8am transfer. Only they now informed me, it wasn’t coming as there were technical issues and instead booked me on the 5pm. Somehow I managed to book another company for 11am, and I wasn’t 100% sure it had gone through when it was nearing 12 and they still hadn’t come, the lady at the hostel called and was assured it was coming at 12:20pm at the bus stop opposite. I decided to pull the plug and head back to the hostel at 12:45pm, just concurrent to me seeing a car flashing their headlights to pull over. Thankfully this was me and I was lumped In the back, where I could lay out the suitcases and watch a movie. One of the guys in the transfer was HOT, he was Bosnian – his name was Riad and his English was amazing. I had a snooze and was woken up to talk back radio. I asked him what they were talking about and he said recently there were elections. He said his country had three presidents – one Serb, one Croat and one Bosnian and they were all fuckwits. I told him we only had one fuck wit but it kept changing. Super smart, Riad was in Belgrade visiting mates, and had just completed uni in Sarajevo and studied Genetics – specialising in proteins in humans. Refraining from dodgy jokes, I instead grabbed some restaurant names to attend in his home town Mostar, stupidly also refraining from grabbing is details to hang out in Mostar as I was due to arrive Wednesday.

In Sarajevo I arrived super tired and went for dinner at the Singing Nettle for dinner. I didn’t love it and it was my second most expensive meal to date, so rather dejected I headed back and was again really happy to realise I was in a room with a Taiwanese snorer this time. I kept daydreaming jumping the 100m from my top bunk to grab ear plugs for awhile before I finally succumbed to reception and begged for some pluggers. My third straight night with a snoring female was getting me down. I decided as she was also staying the next night, I needed to get more drunk so joined forces with some others at the hostel- a rude Norweigan called Janis and a top knotted swede called Jeff. There was also a miscellaneous annoying Kiwi (and made me have a little hatred for my beloved kiwis) and a young American girl. But first that day, I started off with Eggs Bene and a walking tour of the city that began at 10am in front of the old cathedral with the most amazing Pope John Paul statue. Again, I thought of Nonna.

Sarajevo - what a stunning city. The mixture of religious harmony is absolutely breath taking. Much akin to Jerusalem. The old town and the new town, blue eyed Muslims, humans that look like me, speaking Bosnian. The walking tour was hosted by a nutcase guide called Enes. He was however awesome, explaining the wars. We saw where WW2 began, with the massacre of Franz Ferdinand (not the singer), and heard stories of courage, such as when Hitler sent his soldiers to get the Hagada book at the Jewish temple and a Muslim grabbed the book, told the soldier it had already been given to the Nazis and was instead taken to the Muslim Mosque and hidden with the Koran.

We were then told about 1992- 1995 - the city circled by Serbs and the massacres that took place. For such a recent history, I don’t believe we know enough about it and cannot even begin to understand how people of the one race get fuelled by hubris led propaganda machines that call themselves Politian’s and turn neighbours against each other. For one thing was certain, this was not a religious war. Not everyone wanted a Serbia or Croatia, many wanted a Yugoslavia. However, after the prosperity of Yugoslavia and the death of Tito, hatred was bred, and for some reason, Serbia decided to attack. The viciousness of the massacres that took place at Srebrenica under the UN watch is an atrocity. The murder of children, civilians, absolutely heart breaking. You could tell the prosperity of the people, for my by their watches, Longines, Omega’s alongside childrens teddy bears, bloodstained clothes, contained in the museum of Genocide, which we visited afterwards. The US were close to preventing one of the massacres by commencing bombing, but the French called it off (seriously, can the French just give up on politics already?!). Ironically when that bombing did commence, it ended the war, alongside the Croatian army- which I’ll get in to after.

Mostar

I decided to skip more doom and gloom re the tunnels which apparently was a massive fail on my part however I did and instead got drunk with the guys at the hostel – a Swede and Dutchy, downing Rakia and getting a kebab from a blue eyed white guy – a first for me, before attempting a sleep with the Taiwan snoring engine. This time, the sleep again failed me, and with the 5:45am wake up to catch the 7am scenic train to Mostar, I was scared I would miss the journey through sheer exhaustion leading to sleep on the train. The Northern hemisphere lads and I made it and I managed a movie (The Book Thief, great film and has my fav actor Geoffrey Rush in it) and stayed awake for the scenery. The windows were quite dirty, so there was no way you could take photos, though it really pissed me off that people spent their time trying to video or photo it on their phones, rather than look at the view with their eyes. I mean, their footage will be garbage, what you see through the phone is garbage, you’ll never watch it through, how about just use your eyes and enjoy it for you? So that’s what I did.

Maddy, the young Aussie girl in Kotor recommended hostel Majdas in Mostar. I had also arranged a 12-hour tour of Bosnia via email that started as soon as I arrived, so as soon as I got to the hostel, I promptly upgraded to a private and was given some amazing breakfast and shown to my room for an hour prior to the tour starting. I also bumped in to some mates I’d met in Kotor from Tassie that had committed to jumping the bridge – they did and managed to do so injury free. The tour was ran by Majda’s brother Bata, whose name should actually by Batty. He was absolutely nuts! But so glad that I did it. He told us about how after the Serbs came to Mostar and the Croatians then came in and saved them. They then knifed them in the back, and started doing what the Serbs did, massacring them, trying to take Bosnia. He was smuggled out by a Croatian Bosnian in a fake ambulance and sent to Sweden. It was mere fate a Croat from his school recognised him and saved him from a mass grave. Post war, he went to thank the man, but was told his fate was not so good. We were shown how Mostar is divided, strangely even despite the massacres and treatment, Croatia and Serbia still have a stake in the Bosnian parliament, and one half of Mostar is Croatian Bosnian, and is much more advanced than the Bosnian side. He thinks it is a message. I don’t think he is a stupid as his batty behaviour presents. The overarching similarity between Batty Bata and Enes is the same message - both agree – contrary to the world propaganda, this was not a religious war (they have lived harmoniously for over a thousand years, having 50% mixed marriage pre-war), this is not a civil war, this was bigger. War crimes were committed and post war, the politicians responsible including Milsovic, Martic, Babic, Karadzic, Mladic have all been prosecuted. A Bosnian Serb led the Bosnians at the time and saved Sarajevo. This for me had too many similarities with whatever is going on between Israel and Palestine. When you see Jerusalem and Sarajevo and how harmonious the old towns are – Jews, Christians and Muslims, you realise we are all swallowing the same pill, we are all spiders in the same misleading web. The fact that humans threw loaded truck tyres down the hill to the city valleys to murder, the rapes, the murder, the genocide and still, what I will say, is the Bosnians are the most friendly in this Yugonook. Yeah, they are bonkers, but their humour is incredible, their resilience is unsurpassed. 

We went to the Kravice waterfalls, which were picturesque but too cold for me, I lapped up the sun, had a beer and read a book from the bank rather than deal with the numbing cold water to climb a waterfall which I am almost 100% sure I would hurt myself. We left there and headed to a village called Neretvanski which was an old village and went for tea and syrups at a local old ladys house. We overate there, before heading to our final stop a town about 12kms from Mostar called Blagaj where we agreed to head back should I stay another night in lieu of heading to Split for my flight a night early, and then back to the hostel. 

The next day we got up and was served an amazing breaky. After I joined forces with my new mate the American brother and sister due Liza and Nick, the Swede and the Dutchie (and some other American chick I didn’t really get to know), then we headed back to Blagaj by bus to do the hike up the mountain to the last Bosnian Kings castle. After we donned head scarf and a wrap dresses we were allowed to visit the Monastery which impressively sits adjacent to the cave, under the clifftop. The cave is a mystery in itself, a pilgrimage for many, the water source isn’t immediately known, however it has since been revealed to be deep and some 19kms wide. I had some water and made a wish. What a blessed place. I hope it knows peace in my lifetime and many more. I hope it returns to the former 50/50 marriage it was and Yugoslavia remembers Bosnia. Sadly, having seen Palestine and knowing our government locks up innocents abroad, I don’t think we ever will stop behaving badly, but I hope we do. I will come back and do succeed in my quest to eat Octopus every day... what an amazing place.