A trip around the Bosnian countryside.

Mostar, Bosnia – August 14th, 2009.

Awake and at it rather early. I’ve organised to go on a tour around the local countryside with the hostels brother and a few others. I grab a Burek and a coffee for breakky and then go up and wait for it. Sadly, all this is to no means as the guy fell sick and couldn’t take us.

So its a day of lounging to be honest and organising a few things. I run into Toby and Chris on my way around the markets searching for presents. We head over the bridge and then find a good restaurant for some cheap cevapcici. After that we say our goodbyes and then head off. I go grab a present for my dad and mum. Before going to get a box and packing it up to send back home. Sadly it was going to cost about 100 dollars just to send it. So I kept it and will send it somewhere else.

I go buy Clare and myself a train ticket. The LP guide book recommends taking the train over the bus as its a bit more scenic though it leaves later and gets in a bit later than the bus. But hey its a couple of Bosnian Marks cheaper.

I go back to the hostel, chill out, before grabbing some food (burek) and a bottle of coke for the trip on the train.

The train trip to Sarajevo is really spectacular. Words really cannot describe how amazing it is. Its an old style train – as there has been war here in the 90’s the area has not really upgraded their trains. They also run very slow. But its very scenic and it shunts its way along up the mountains.

Its dark time when we hit Sarajevo – home to a winter olympics in the 80’s. Clare and myself make our way directly to the hostel. Where things take a turn for the worse. Seeing as there is an International Film Festival happning in Sarajevo all hostels were basically booked up. So I booked into this one called Hostel Marco Polo (whatever you do DO NOT. I repeat. DO NOT book with this hostel).

We get to the hostel, ring the guy up as no one is answering at all. We meet a bunch of dutch guys on a eurotrip – about 8 of them. And then wait with them. The owner or manager then turns up and says he is taking us to another place. A cab ride 20 minutes out of town and in the middle of fucking no where is where we are at. We’re out in the sticks of Sarajevo. But the evening spent talking randomly with the dutch was interesting in itself.

This entry was published on December 14, 2009 at 8:54 pm. It’s filed under Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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