In the early ’90s, I remember the scenes of terror and destruction taking place in Sarajevo during the Bosnian War being broadcast back to the U.S. across all the news channels. The entire region was caught in turmoil, and those were the images unconsciously filed away in my memory. The war ended in 1995, but politics and government in Bosnia and Herzegovina are precarious and fragile to this day.
I wanted to spend some time here to see the beauty I had heard much about and also to witness the rebuilding of the last 20 years. Because of Croatia's neighboring location, I was able to book a small group day tour from Dubrovnik to visit Bosnia and Herzegovina.
Similar to my visit to Montenegro, I found it perplexing that there was no Bosnia and Herzegovina passport stamp from immigration to reflect my arrival into the country, but I did receive arrival stamps on my return to Croatia. Looking at my passport, it presents a weird, ghostlike persona, as one could wonder how I came back without leaving first. Please give me stamps – I always want stamps!
Past the border, we first stopped at Kravice Waterfalls, where after a 10-minute winding and descending walk, you finally get to the falls, which are hidden from the main roads. One of the tour guides I had spoken to the day before had suggested wearing good footwear because it’s slick, so in my bright blue (screaming tourist) tennis shoes, I was making my way down to the waterfalls at a good clip and spectacularly wiped out toward the bottom. Sometimes my lack of patience gets the better of me. My first thought was “Sh*#, is my camera ok?” After I confirmed camera was still in one piece, I looked around to see how many people witnessed my fall and how embarrassed I should be. Whew, only three people around, so I slyly pretended it was nothing ... haha laugh it off! I wiped the dirt off my rear end and took a look at the skin hanging off my hand from bracing my fall. There wasn’t much in the way of a first aid kit or station at the waterfalls, but the bartender at the sandwich stand by the water loaded up some paper towels with a high proof liquor he had, and just like rubbing alcohol, it sure had a nice burn effect on contact. We wrapped that around my hand, and away I went.
The waterfalls were nice enough, but not mind-blowing. I was told that the locals refer to the site as a “mini Niagara,” and I really couldn’t grasp that comparison while looking at it. Maybe if I had a few drinks and closed one eye and squinted really hard it could be “mini Niagara,” but let’s call a spade a spade, it’s fine to look at and a decent respite on a hot summer day when you can jump into the water at the bottom.
After Kravice, we made our way to Mostar, one of the larger cities in the country, most visually identified by the stunning Stari Most (literally, “Old Bridge”). Originally built in the 1500s, the bridge stood tall until it took a direct hit in the Bosnian War. Using some of the original pieces fished out from the river, the bridge was entirely rebuilt after the war. The top of the bridge has a good amount of limestone that looks gorgeous when you’re standing at the end, but walking over it, I thought I was doomed for another wipeout with how slick it was. Had I not bit it earlier, I probably wouldn’t have been so paranoid, but I imagine I looked like a 95-year-old granny crossing the bridge, trying to keep her balance while packed shoulder-to-shoulder with tourists.
On any given day, you may also catch a local man offering to jump off the bridge into the Neretva River below for 25 or more Euros. It usually becomes a bit of a bartering spectacle now, but people have been jumping off the bridge for hundreds of years. From the bottom by the river, I could see the tourists lined across the bridge with a diver standing atop the railing. In the time of a short breath, he swan-dived over into the water while all of us held our own breath until we saw him break through the top of the river, swimming to shore through the cheers and claps of everyone around. Would you do that for 25 Euros? Looking at the turquoise sparkling water, you can see plenty of rocks crawling up towards the shore of the narrow river, and I think “No, thanks.” I’m much more comfortable jumping out of a plane than ever considering that swan dive off Stari Most, but I appreciate the entertainment.
Continuing to walk the cobblestone streets in and around Old Town hits a lot on the senses. I could still see varying amounts of war-torn buildings that were gutted from the destruction and now left as empty shells with the green earth and colorful flowers enveloping the concrete and rusted metal. For those buildings that survived, they weren’t necessarily unscathed, and they still carry pockmarks reflecting the wounds that the city will continue to heal from.
