Emerging from enforced solitary confinement during the ’90s, the vibrant, city of Sarajevo is establishing itself as a jewel of central Europe. Visit now while the tourist footprint remains fairly light, says David Hull

The walkways in central Sarajevo have an eerie difference. Look closely and you’ll see blemishes on the flagstones that could be the fallout from a temperamental artist hurling paintbrushes in all directions. They are, rather, hand-sized craters caused by exploding mortar shells. Painted with red resin and known as ‘Sarajevo roses’, these potholes serve to remind visitors what Bosnia’s cosmopolitan and resilient capital has endured.

Notorious as the location of the royal assassination that snowballed into World War I, Sarajevo subsequently leaped to prominence through its hosting of the 1984 Winter Olympics and, later, when it was cut off from the outside world amid the conflict surrounding the break-up of the Yugoslav Federation. Around 12,000 inhabitants lost their lives during the 1992-1995 siege, with a further 50,000 wounded.

Another throwback to this darker time is the stretch of underground tunnel located in an otherwise unremarkable domestic home near the airport. The site is now a museum dedicated to the undetected 800m tunnel through which goods (and some people) were sent in and out of the city during the siege.

These days, tourist traffic to the Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina is beginning to gather momentum. While Croatia’s stunning Dalmatian coastline remains the Balkan region’s hot spot, and Slovenia’s central European serenity provides a relaxing alpine retreat, Bosnia and Herzegovina can boast a countryside of snow-capped mountains and lakes, together with cities and towns that showcase a unique melting pot of Christian and Ottoman (Turkish) culture and architecture. Word on the street in Sarajevo is that backpacker numbers are rising sharply – and wherever this group goes, the wider tourist market usually follows.

I wound up in Bosnia during a trip to that took me to various parts of Eastern Europe. Coming in on an eight-hour bus ride from Belgrade dictated that I first pass through Republika Srpska. Although the economic hardship of the Bosnian Serb republic was evident at times, the rocky countryside was stunning – all the more so on this day because of heavy snow. The bus terminated on the outskirts of Sarajevo but, fortunately, it took only a short cab ride into town to reach my hostel, situated in Bascarsija, Sarajevo’s must-see Turkish quarter. I had reason to be anxious, however: I was more or less flat broke after a Croatian cash machine swallowed my bank card a week earlier.

Thankfully, after a find-my-bearings stroll that evening, I got news that a funds transfer had come through. After the dawn-to-dusk excesses in a sun-drenched Zagreb and the hustle and bustle of windswept Belgrade, I relished the chance to recharge my batteries in sparsely populated Sarajevo, which was the most vibrant and interesting urban centre I encountered in the Balkans.

Home to the prominent and ornate Gazi-Husrev Beg mosque, Bascarsija is a spectacularly colourful and odorous maze of narrow lanes crammed with pocket-sized cafés, eateries serving local specialties like cevapi (grilled meat served on a plate) and burek (greasy filled pastries), and the shops of local craftsmen – in particular, the street given over to coppersmiths should not be missed. Rain and snow failed to dampen the aromas of freshly baked bread and grilled meats and did not obscure the backdrop of minarets and snow-topped mountains. Here, with my stomach grumbling, I tasted my first burek (common fillings include meat, cheese, spinach, pumpkin or potato). I went with the potato option (‘krompirusa’) and became addicted – these carbohydrate-filled morsels sustained me throughout my stay in Bosnia.

With temperatures barely above zero, my week in the city called for strategic sightseeing, so I fortified myself with hot food and beverages between daily forays. From hillsides littered with graveyards, to Latin Bridge (where the Serb student Gavril Princip shot the Austro-Hungarian Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie in 1914), to grand old buildings scarred by shelling, reminders of the city’s troubled past are everywhere. Most imposing is the once-sumptuous Bosnian national library, which now lies in ruins following calculated firebombing in 1992. Still operating is the town’s bustling central market, where 60-odd people perished as a result of a mortar attack in 1994, along with the Sarajevsko brewery, which became the city’s main water supply during the siege.

Beyond its historical attractions, Sarajevo is chock-a-block with cafés, bars, eateries and bookshops – which came in handy as I spent several lunchtimes and evenings taking refuge from the elements in these places. But the city’s array of museums also offers a fascinating respite from the cold. I was delighted to discover my visit had coincided with the Historical Museum staging an exhibition dedicated to life during the siege. Here I spent a good couple of hours captivated by the numerous photographs, newspaper reports and propaganda, as well as displays of shell and weapon fragments. The highlight had to be the exhibit of practical everyday items designed by a resourceful population starved of food, water and medical goods.
 
The acclaimed BBC reporter-turned-author, Martin Bell (one of the most prominent members of the foreign press corps present during the Balkan conflict) believes you never really know a place until you’ve made love or been arrested there. By that measure I cannot really say I know Sarajevo – though I did have a minor brush with the local law.

You see, I’d been conscientiously buying tram tickets from the kiosks provided, but had read somewhere that you could either pre-buy tickets or get them from the driver. At this particular point I wanted to board at a stop that didn’t have a kiosk nearby and fully intended to get a ticket from the driver. But when I boarded this did not appear to be an option. I should have asked someone – but waxing lazy and preferring to avoid the language barrier, I decided I’d just travel without a ticket.

Next thing I knew, a scary-looking inspector with a glass eye was muttering something to me in Croat-Serbian. I shook my head to indicate I didn’t have a ticket. He began repeatedly bellowing “Ticket!” at me, which I feebly countered with, “No ticket, sorry.”

Then a younger inspector with better English took charge. He whipped out a pad, scribbled a hefty fine, and slapped it down in my hand. There was no point arguing...

So perhaps I do have some insight by Mr Bell’s measure. What I do know is that a visit to Sarajevo – with its population of around 300,000, few overt signs of tourism and locals who mind their own business – makes for an eye-opening and hassle-free experience.

Just be sure to buy your tram ticket at a kiosk.

Open Road e-zine October 2008

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