Sarajevo

Sarajevo was charming from the start. It was much prettier than either of us had anticipated, with the winding narrow cobbled streets of the old town and big, peaceful mosques and churches scattered throughout. As usual in this part of the world, there are plenty of cafes and you are welcome to sit outside them all day without being hurried along like you would expect at home (after three hours nursing the same coffee). We loved the haunting and beautiful Islamic call to prayer which sounds out from the mosques five times a day. Sometimes you can hear the mingling of calls from different mosques so that the sound seems to echo across the city. The city feels culturally and spiritually rich, with a real sense of religious harmony. The people are stylish, and there is no shortage of dapper old men, cool haircuts and gorgeous headscarves. We didn't want to think about the war there because it felt so peaceful on the streets, and the restoration of the centre has clearly been so intensive, that it was heartbreaking to imagine the very different reality of the 90s.

 

 

Cycling through the mountains on our way to Sarajevo, we noticed that Matthew had broken a spoke on his rear wheel. Although we carry spare spokes, we couldn't replace this one as it was on the side requiring a special (heavy) tool to remove the cassette. We tightened the spokes on either side and hoped to make it to a bike shop in Sarajevo without too much rim damage. In Sarajevo, we asked about bicycle repair at the info centre and were given the address of a bike hire shop in town. We now feel grateful for this broken spoke because the guys at the shop turned out to be great and we ended up spending a lot of our time in Sarajevo hanging out with them. As well as Amin and Bojan (who run the shop) there was another cycle tourist called Greg from California who had also recently arrived in Sarajevo. We sat and had a yarn before heading out for some traditional Bosnian food with them. That night, Bojan led the way as we went out for a drink at a great place which used to be a cinema and has now been converted into a bar/playhouse/venue.

Matthew, Greg & Bojan

With Amin outside the shop

On our second and last evening in Sarajevo, Bojan took us on a guided tour of the city at dusk which culminated with a beautiful view at the top of a steep climb looking out over the city.

Greg, Matthew, Bojan and George (a London expat)

Bosnian Hills

Our journey from Visegrad to Sarajevo included scary tunnels, steep climbs, and lovely animals. One of these animals was a big white sheepdog who decided to sit with us while we had lunch. A farmer went past on his tractor and waved to us then saw our dog friend and laughed - we think maybe he was her owner.

We camped not too far out of Sarajevo and woke to hear nearby bell-clanging which we thought probably belonged to a sheep or goat. As we were leaving, we saw through the mist that it was not sheep or goats but two beautiful, friendly horses! (Matthew: "oh look it's cows!" - admittedly it was quite foggy but this was still funny enough to give me the giggles)

The ride into Sarajevo turned out to be really easy (for a city). We road in on a not-too-busy highway (made less busy by current roadworks which also slowed traffic down to a friendly passing pace) and basically popped out right in the middle of the old town where we tied up our steeds in the lovely old town square. Sarajevo is so pretty! There are graceful, dreamy hills surrounding the city so that it feels nestled into the land. We shuddered to learn these hills were filled with snipers during the 1992-1996 siege of Sarajevo. As usual we felt overwhelmed trying to reconcile this lovely part of the world with it's awful recent history. But more on Sarajevo next post..

One last thing, we'd like to return a "blog shout-out" to our friend Alasdair from Glasgow who is currently travelling in India. He is keeping a very honest and entertaining blog at www.alasdaircowie.com which we try to keep up with from the road - happy reading!

The Bridge on the Drina

We were excited when we realised we would pass through Visegrad on our way to the Croatian coast. We had picked up a translation of "The Bridge on the Drina" by Ivo Andric before we left Scotland and read it as we were traveling and both loved it. The novel recounts the 400 year history of the bridge in Visegrad and its people in a fictionalised but deeply researched historically accurate way. Andric spent his youth in Visegrad and the novel gives vivid descriptions of the beauty here and the characters and conflicts of its inhabitants.  The writing is beautiful and  gives sympathy, warmth and depth to all the towns inhabitants of Christians, Muslims and Jews without shying away from the tragedies the town saw. He won the Nobel prize in '61 for the novel and it seems so deserved, it beautifully describes aspects of the culture and historical roots of the conflict in this part of the world.
We felt so attatched to the town from reading the book we were heartbroken to hear the troubles there where by no means over once the novel's narrative ends as WW1 begins. The bridge itself saw horrendous atrocites only last decade. Once we arrived in Visegrad however things felt peaceful yet vibrant. The cafes were friendly and buzzing and there were lots of young people about. An old railway line that takes you through the mountains had been reopened to be used for a scenic steam train only a day before we arrived. The town seems proud of Andric with libaries and cultural centres dedicated to his memory and a memorial overlooking the ancient bridge.

an

Rakija at our campsite by the Drina

Serbian drawings

 I told Slobo and Zdravko i'd draw them - sorry guys, they are way less wonky looking in real life!

jenny's drawing of a romanian boy fishing.

oh serbia!

We spent a few days battling some long steep climbs in the northeast of Serbia. The ride was beautiful and we had fun stopping at a stream for lunch where as usual Matthew got right in. Some of the larger towns in the north felt downtrodden and depressing, and we passed a few closed swimming pools, huge empty hotels and we felt sadly the sense of being somewhere that has seen better times. The people in this part of Serbia oggled us in a similar way to people in Romania and we were getting a bit tired of feeling like some sort of shocking spectacle as jaws dropped and eyes popped wide open when we cycled past people, without a hint of a smile. I felt a bit mean and impatient for getting tired of the stares, especially when right across Serbia we had lots of positive attention too with people waving and cars tooting / giving us a thumbs up. Whenever we started to get down, something good would happen to pick us up like a sweet old man putting a pile of plums into my bicycle basket. We often joked that Serbia was an emotional rollercoaster, as we swung between feeling like weirdo strangers to feeling a deep connection with or admiration for various wonderful and special people we happened upon. These encounters made me feel more attached to Serbia than any other place we have cycled. Also, Serbia is a very beautiful place, with varied landscape ranging from soft and pretty countryside to rugged, gorgeous mountains and forests. We didn't realise how beautiful it was going to be before ambling across it.

As we were nearing the Bosnian border, we met a cyclist called Zdravko while bumbling around his home town Pozega wondering how to get the back way (i.e. avoid the highway) to nearby Uzice. Zdravko was out cycling and stopped to chat as we stood in usual hunched-over-the-map fashion. He offered to show us the way to the back road we were searching for and we chatted as we cycled along. Zdravko ended up escorting us the whole way to Uzice, and contacted his friend Slobo who joined us there. On the way he showed us some of the local fruit which can be picked from the roadside - beautiful crisp apples, small sweet oval plums called "shliva", and walnuts which we were given by a lady gathering them from the ground next to the road. People here eat wonderful food, so many apple and plum trees we pass are brimming with fruit which falls onto the roadsides and while the available fresh produce is not very varied, it all tastes amazing. Zdravko also told us that the water here is exceptionally clean and good, and very accessible for a cycle tourist as it runs from mountain streams to roadside fountains. Zdravko loves Serbia and its people but regrets the current state of unemployment and migration caused by the wars and bad politics. In Uzice, we had a great time chatting to Zdravko and Slobo, with Slabo speaking excellent English and helping us to communicate better with Zdravko. Zdravko also was keen to show us rakija, a drink made from the little shliva plums we had tried earlier. This is a spirit with about 40% alcohol content yet was surprisingly sweet and nice. As we were leaving, Zdravko and Slobo very kindly showed us on our way by cycling a few kilometres with us out of town (uphill and in the rain!) we were so grateful for their help and also for the fun time we had chatting and learning more about Serbia.

Slobo, Matthew and Zdravko

me and bobby mcgee

We pedalled back to Serbia over the Iron Gate bridge/dam on the Danube. It felt good being back in a country we were already familiar with, hello again Serbia! And hello nice Serbian cafes, coffee, figs, fruit...

Our next bit of riding took us along the same section of the Danube gorge we had cycled in Romania, but this time on the other side of the river. It actually looked quite different from the other side as the road is up a lot higher, cut into the cliff.

We broke away from the Danube and found ourselves cycling through pretty countryside and lovely rural towns and villages with regular sightings of horses & carts, shepherds and copious haystacks. Wild camping was lovely here and we woke to magical, misty mornings.

Cycling through a Serbian village one day, we paused to peer up the streets trying to see whether there was a shop around so we could buy some snacks for lunch. A man yelled out from his nearby verandah (in English) to see whether we needed help, and directed us to the local shop. He then asked us if we knew Janis Joplin's version of Me and Bobby McGee, and went on to declare that I was "me" and Matthew was Bobby McGee. A bit cryptic, but we were pleased with the comparison. Cycling feels so wholesome and peaceful that it is refreshing to hear that someone (albeit a middle aged, rural Serbian)  thinks we look hip and rebellious. But here's hoping our adventure ends less bleakly than the song.

bobby mcgee

bye bye Danube