Mr Love has spent almost 15 months driving through Europe and the UK, first in the motorhome and then in a rental car, covering over 34,000 kilometres. I’ve spent the same amount of time in the passenger seat planning our route and navigating. It was time to give ourselves a break and let someone else make the decisions and we opted for an organised tour for our next adventure through the countries of the Balkan peninsula.
It’s hard to find the perfect tour and I did a lot of research to find one that went to all the countries we wanted to visit, suited our budget and most importantly suited our style of travel. When you’ve been travelling independently for as long as we have it was going to be hard to relinquish the flexibility we have become accustomed to. Penguin Travel was offering a well-priced tour through the region and positioned itself as being for the ‘active traveller’ with a less structured itinerary which suited us. We thought we’d give it a go.
We arrived in Bulgaria three days before the tour started giving us time to explore Sofia. Our first glimpse of the city from the window as we descended to Sofia airport was of a matrix of decaying soviet-style apartments. The next was of large colourful billboards shouting about the best beer in Bulgaria popping out from overgrown, abandoned buildings sites during a hair-raising taxi ride to the hotel.
Our flight had been delayed and it was late. The concierge suggested a good local restaurant nearby. We stepped out into the humid night. The street was dimly lit, trees drooping over cracked pavements, pink and yellow paintwork peeled off shabby buildings and roller doors covered shopfronts. We expected a homely little bistro with plastic table cloths and a Coca-Cola fridge in the corner and were surprised to find a very hip bar and eatery with modern interior and filled with locals, mostly young and well dressed. The traditional shopska salad and chicken shashlik was excellent and the local wine even better.
Day 1: Sofia, Bulgaria
In the light of day, we saw the real Sofia. We walked into the city centre down a wide boulevard to the National Palace of Culture and across the white tiled square with colourful plantings, past shallow geometric pools filled with dancing fountains, to the main street. Vitosha Street is named after the mountain that overlooks the city and the street appears to run directly to it. It’s a pedestrian only street and was humming with activity. Restaurants spilled across the cobbles, buskers performed to crowds and even though it was only 10am, ice-cream vendors were doing a roaring trade. There was a laid-back feel to the place. People were smiling, and no one was in any rush.
Down Vitosha Street, past parliament and the Statue of Saint Sofia with her golden face, is Sveta Nedelya square, the centre of Sofia. In the middle of the square is Sveta Nedelya church with a beautiful interior of rich frescoes in dark blue, red, emerald green and gold. It is these sumptuous interiors that make Eastern Orthodox churches my favourite of all European churches.
We continued past the ruins of the Roman city of Serdica on which Sofia is built. This city from 2,000 years ago was discovered less than a decade ago during construction work and is now an open-air museum. Behind the ruins is the historic Banya Bashi mosque, our first reminder of the Islamic influence in this part of the world. Nearby is a beautiful old bathhouse, now the National Museum, and beside it is a tap drawing water directly from the mineral springs. I took a sip – it was hot and metallic.
We cut across a wide street and walked up past the National Art Gallery towards the gold onion domes of the Russian Church with its striking green-tiled roof. Up further we browsed through an open-air antique market before crossing to the stunning Alexander Nevsky Cathedral. With a 45-metre gold dome, this is one of the largest Eastern Orthodox Cathedrals in the world. The interior is truly magnificent with opulent frescoes lining every surface – those rich intense blues, reds and greens, and all that gold.
Walking back to Vitosha Street we stumbled on more ruins of Serdica behind the Sheraton Hotel. In the middle of these was the circular red-brick church of St George, Sofia’s oldest building. This 4th century church is a small, squat building and its circular interior is lined with fascinating frescoes.
We were quite taken with Sofia. It is worn and a bit dated, but this adds to its charm. There’s a youthful vibrancy here too, a comfortable coolness of a city moving forward but with nothing to prove.
That evening we couldn’t resist going back to our “local” again for dinner.
Day 2: Sofia, Bulgaria
We had asked a woman in the tourist office for ideas on how to spend our second day in Sofia and she didn’t hesitate in suggesting we head out of town and up Mount Vitosha. She promised magnificent views and a “feeling of vitality” after spending time in nature. We thought this was quite amusing but took her advice. To get to Vitosha we caught the metro from the sparkling new European Union station, got off near a shiny new shopping centre filled with well-known high-street brands and then caught a bus that had been in use since the communist era. The further out of the city we drove the more rustic the surrounds. The bus struggled over crumbling roads past overgrown shacks and dilapidated apartments, past pop-up shops in shipping containers and an oddly large number of car wash yards, finally reaching the base of Vitosha. The chairlift operated from a humble wooden shed and the lift itself was in its original condition – cracked wooden seats, peeling paint, and rusty safety bars. We joined the queue of mostly mountain bikers and were soon up amongst the trees. At the top we walked out across the plateau to the lookout and yes, the view was magnificent.
The return journey didn’t go as smoothly. The chair-lift stopped, and we were left hanging for what felt like a very long time, especially for a person who does not have a head for heights. My knuckles were getting whiter and my heartbeat faster and then we finally got going again, eventually making it down safely albeit with couple more stop-starts.
That evening we walked back into the city and sat in Vitosha Street, people watching over a local beer. Dinner was up a side alley in a traditional eatery. Meshana skara (mixed grilled meats), bread and a salad of gloriously sweet tomatoes and some excellent local wine. Bulgarians sure know how to make wine.
Day 3: Sofia, Bulgaria – Studenica, Serbia
Today was the first day of the tour. We had our paperwork that told us to be in the hotel ready for a 9am pick-up. It was 7:55, Andrew was in the shower, and we got a call from reception. The bus was waiting for us, we were supposed to be leaving at 8. What? We checked our info sheet again and it clearly stated pick-up was at 9am so I ran down to see what the story was. Yes, the bus and group were waiting for us. Apparently, the hotel was supposed to have told us of the change the previous night but didn’t. Andrew was not impressed. He does not like to be rushed. This wasn’t a good start to the tour.
After sculling a coffee and grabbing some fruit from the buffet, we were on the bus with 17 others and heading towards Serbia.
It took well over an hour to get through the border. On the other side were a line of ramshackle sheds operating as currency exchange offices – we stopped to change our money from Bulgarian lev to Serbian dinar. Although Bulgaria has been part of the EU since 2007 it hasn’t yet switched to the Euro, there are a few more obligations to meet before it can. Serbia’s EU membership is currently being considered but may be a while away as they have to deal with the sensitive issue of accepting Kosovo’s independence before that will happen. More on that later.
Apart from a roadside lunch stop our first experience of Serbia was in Krusevac, the medieval capital. Now a small rural town, Krusevac is rundown and slightly depressed looking with an architectural hangover from the communist era. We were here to visit an old fort and the lovely 14th century Lazarica Church. Interestingly the stone rose windows in this red and yellow brick church have a Celtic design. A tribe of Celts must have been among the many people to pass through this area over the centuries. Being the height of summer, it is also the height of wedding season and there had been no less than six weddings in the church that day – the blingy brides still lingering for photos in the surrounding gardens.
The afternoon wore on as we made our way through the Serbian countryside past small farms; each with a few fields of newly cut hay, some rows of grapevines, a patch of tomatoes and a cluster of plum and apple trees. Slowly the farms and villages made way for forests and mountains and we arrived at our destination for the night – Studenica, a medieval monastery tucked in the velvety green mountains. We stayed in the students’ quarters outside the monastery walls. Our room was small but comfortable and contained three narrow wooden beds and a small writing desk, above which hung a cross and the gilded image of a saint. The balcony overlooked the monastery, the church and an orchard on the slopes behind. In the golden afternoon light, it was peaceful and still.
That evening we ate in the dining hall and got to know some of our fellow travellers. An eclectic group hailing from around the world: USA, Canada, Belgium, Sweden, Portugal, Singapore, and a New Zealander living in South Korea. Our dinner was a hearty three course meal of vegetable soup and freshly baked bread, followed by trout and potatoes and then some kind of sweet that we passed on, all for only 5 euro each and accompanied by a glass of wine made by the monks. It was simple and delicious.
Day 4: Studenica, Serbia – Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina
The next morning, we were shown through the church in the monastery. The interior of this church is particularly special and contains some of the most important medieval frescoes in Europe. These Byzantine-style frescoes are richly detailed, and the colours are exquisite, especially that mesmerizing ‘Byzantine blue’ made from lapis lazuli sourced from hills of Afghanistan. Over time they have faded, and some have been destroyed during the many wars in the area and now they are being restored. Seventeen people are working for 3 years to restore these frescoes to their former glory. We watched them work. It’s painstakingly slow going.
Back in the bus we continued through rural Serbia. From the window I watched farming couples make hay together. The man driving the vintage tractor and his wife on the trailer with a pitchfork in hand and a triangle headscarf over her hair. Most of the hay was being piled by hand into traditional cone-like haystacks. A few farms had balers, the old-fashioned type that need a lot of manual intervention and produce uneven sized bales. Had we driven through a time warp?
We stopped for lunch at a tourist spot where a steam train takes rides through the mountains. A famous Serbian movie was shot here too and there is a cluster of chalets in an odd Swiss-oriental design. The waiter in the bistro wasn’t in the best of moods and abruptly told us that only thing available was goulash in an attempt to discourage us from staying. It was too hot for me to eat but the rest were more than happy with goulash, much to the horror of the waiter. Our guide told us that Serbian service can be a bit up and down.
Our journey through Serbia continued past hydro lakes set in pretty forested surrounds but with hundreds of plastic bottles and bags floating on the surface. It was hard to look past the rubbish on the sides of roads and in waterways.
It didn’t take long to get through the border with Bosnia and Herzegovina. Our first stop in Bosnia was at Visegrad to change currency again and see the famous stone bridge of Mehmed Pasha. Apparently, this bridge features in the novel “The Bridge on the Drina” by Nobel Laureate Ivo Andrich in which it was symbolic in the connecting of two communities and cultures, east and west. It’s a small town, set in a picturesque gorge and the River Drina is a beautiful opaque blue-green. But it’s hard not to notice how rundown the town is. A couple of small boys asked us for money and scruffy street-dogs laze in the gutters. There’s 35% unemployment in Bosnia and Herzegovina. This is a developing country, still finding its feet after coming through communism and then war.
It was getting dark when we arrived in Sarajevo and after checking in and getting refreshed we headed into the Old Town to find something to eat. The skyline was filled with mosque minarets. There are over 100 mosques here and the call to prayer can be heard across the city. The Old Town is the Ottoman part of town and is like walking into a Turkish Bazaar. Filled with people eating and drinking Turkish coffee and smoking shisha from elegant hookahs it was an incredible atmosphere and totally unexpected. I’m not sure what I expected from Sarajevo, but it wasn’t this.
Day 5: Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina
We were woken at 5am by a melodic adhan coming from the mosque across from the hotel.
Included in our tour package is a walking tour of each major town we visit and our local guide in Sarajevo met us at the hotel to show us around his city. He is of Albanian ancestry but was born in Sarajevo and being in his mid-20’s is part of the new generation of Bosnians.
The Balkan Peninsula is the link between the West and the East and because of this it has been walked over by armies and tribes for thousands of years and was sought after territory by empires. The Ottoman Empire ruled over the Balkans for more than 400 years and it was them who brought Islam to the region. Bosnia was under the control of the Ottomans from the mid-1400’s to 1878 when it then fell under Austro-Hungarian rule. These two empires have greatly influenced this city and walking from the old part to the new is like going from Turkey to Austria in 100 metres.
Sarajevo has a volatile past. Putting aside the most recent conflit for a moment, this city was the trigger point for World War One when Archduke Franz Ferdinand, the heir apparent of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, was assassinated by Serb separatists in 1914 sparking the Austrian invasion of Serbia and consequent repercussions.
But it is the most recent conflict that resonates with me. As communism broke down in Yugoslavia the territories that made up this area sought independence and war broke out as they jostled for land and bickered over borders. Long-held prejudices came to the surface and religious and cultural differences inflamed conflict. Sarajevo was held hostage for nearly four years, from 1992 to 1995, by the Army of Republika Srpska, a separatist army of Serbs from within the newly formed Bosnian state. That’s how complicated the situation was – armies from within countries were fighting each other, neighbours against neighbours.
I was leaving high-school and starting university when across the world, war broke out in a country I had barely heard of. The nightly news gave it 5 minutes worth with a BBC or CNN talking head trying to decipher the politics behind it. But, it was Paul Holmes who made this conflict real for me. He found a teenage girl in Sarajevo who gave reports of her experiences in a city under siege. He spoke to her often on radio and TV and she told him of not being able to leave her apartment, not having access to water, her joy that they managed to go out and get bread, her anger at her school being closed. It was compelling journalism and it hit home. She wasn’t much younger than me, probably my brothers age. Here we were knocking on the door of the 21st century living a modern and free life in beautiful New Zealand and on the other side of the world a young woman didn’t know where her next meal was coming from and only wanted to go to school. Since then of course there have been many documentaries and films telling the story of the Balkan Wars and the Siege of Sarajevo and I’ve seen and read more about it. But being here in Sarajevo those reports and the impact they had came flooding back to me. I wonder where she is now?
Our guide showed us some Sarajevo roses – concrete scars in the footpaths caused by mortar shell explosions that were later filled with red resin as a reminder of the blood that was spilled. He was only a small child during the war and he remembers the sound of the F16’s overhead, part of the NATO forces that were “monitoring” this war. His parents still talk about it. His mother telling him about not having power and laughing about overloading the homemade generator. He’s in his 20’s – that’s how recent this history is. He is positive and proud of Bosnia and confident history won’t repeat but there must be a lot unresolved pain and hurt here, it doesn’t just go away.
After the walking tour finished we visited the Srebrenica Exhibition to try and understand this conflict further. This confronting photographic exhibition tells of the 1995 massacre of 8,000 Bosnian Muslims by units of the Bosnian Serb Army. This is a horrifying visual account of the thousands of men and boys killed in cold blood and worse was that those responsible tried to cover it up by moving the bodies, not once but up to three times. Some of the dead still haven’t been identified. People have been held to account for this crime, but not all of them. Some families lost all their men while those responsible walked free. That sort of pain doesn’t just go away. We were numb. I understood even less about this conflict.
Andrew decided not to come on the “Sarajevo under Siege” tour that afternoon, he felt he had seen enough of wars so stayed in town while I went off to try and get my head around this tumultuous region. We headed out towards the airport, driving down “sniper alley” from where the Bosnian-Serb Army (although our guide referred to them as simply Serbs) fired continuously onto this city, holding it hostage for so long – the longest-running siege of any city in modern history. The buildings are still pock-marked with bullet holes. They are in no hurry to repair them. Sarajevo does not want to forget its past.
Beside the airport is the entrance to the Sarajevo War Tunnel, or the Tunnel of Hope. This tunnel ran under the runway of the airport and was the only connection besieged Sarajevo had with the outside world. It took more than six months to dig the tunnel and was done using pickaxes and shovels. The 800-meter-long corridor is a little over a meter wide and has an average height of 1.5 meters. Thanks to the tunnel, the beleaguered city regained access to telephone lines, oil supplies, food and electric energy.
From the tunnel we drove up the mountain where the 1984 Winter Olympics were held. The view over Sarajevo was stunning and we watched a magnificent thunderstorm roll in. Signs warning of landmines are visible from the road. 2% of Bosnian land is still covered in active landmines. The concrete shell of the Olympic bobsled track remains, and we walked down it. It was used as a shield for fighters during the war and is now a canvas for urban art. It’s a surreal place.
We got to the bottom of the bobsled track just as the sky opened and the thunderstorm hit. Back in town Andrew said the streets had turned to rivers. It stopped as quickly as it started.
That night we walked into the new part of town for a drink. The Sarajevo Film Festival was on and the streets were alive. Attractive promo girls handed out flyers, policemen joked with passers-by, groups of young people laughed over beers, and young parents pushed sleeping toddlers in strollers. Back in the old town, down a narrow lane behind the Gazi Husrev-beg Mosque, we had traditional Bosnian BBQ for dinner. They’re big on grilled meat in this part of the world.
This is a remarkable city. It’s not afraid to confront its past, its proud of the complexities of its existence and it embraces the different cultures that make it what it is. There’s a positivity to the place, a feeling that it can only keep getting better. I only hope it does.
Day 6: Sarajevo to Mostar to Dubrovnik, Croatia
The next morning, we left Sarajevo for Mostar. The drive through Bosnia was beautiful, past emerald green lakes and rugged mountains. Mostar is a small historic town famous for the Stari Most, a 16th-century Ottoman bridge that crosses the river Neretva and connects the two parts of the town, the east and the west. It was bombed during the Balkan wars of the 1990’s but was rebuilt using the same stones and is now a UNESCO listed heritage spot. It serves as a symbol of the peaceful coexistence of different cultural and religious communities in the Balkans. The bridge is steep and slippery and crowded with people, not a place to linger. Three or four local men in speedos were handing around a hat collecting money. Once they had enough they jumped from the bridge. Our guide told us about these divers and I was expecting an elegant head-first dive, but it was an undramatic feet-first drop. Across the bridge we walked through the jumble of narrow cobbled lanes lined with souvenir shops and restaurants, pushing through the crowds of tourists, to a 300-year-old mosque where we climbed the minaret for views across the town and down the river to the bridge.
After Mostar the bus continued on through the dramatic Dinaric Alps, the mountain range separating the continental Balkan Peninsula from the Adriatic Sea. The landscape changed from lush fields and forests to dry scrubby plains dotted with rocks. We briefly stopped at Radimlja to see the unic stecci – a cluster of mysterious grave stones from XV century – before heading through to Dubrovnik. The border crossing seemed to take forever and finally we were in Croatia looking down on the beautiful dark blue Adriatic Sea.
It had been a long day and it was late by the time we checked in to our hotel. We were close to a seaside resort area with plenty of restaurants, and we wandered down to find something to eat.
Day 7. Dubrovnik, Croatia
Dubrovnik is often referred to as the Pearl of the Adriatic and it obvious why. Once an autonomous maritime trading powerhouse, similar to Venice, the old town sits on a point and enclosed by 2km of golden walls. To enter you walk across a draw bridge and through an imposing gate and once inside you are engulfed by a pearly Baroque paradise. Shiny cobbled streets and seem to merge into the warm glow of ornate fountains, plazas and archways that in turn flow into the curves and facades of the alabaster palaces and churches. Most of Dubrovnik was destroyed in the great earthquake of 1667, only the walls remained intact, so instead of having a mix of different architectural types Dubrovnik is mostly baroque, making it very unique. There are no cars nor any bikes inside the walls, just pedestrians. It is beautiful. A fantasy land – almost like you should be buying tickets at the gate. This is why it has been used as the set of many films, including Game of Thrones and the latest Star Wars movie. This onscreen fame is bringing in hordes more tourists and while we were there we saw many Star Wars and Game Thrones tours underway. There have been recent protests here with locals feeling pushed out of their own town.
The wall-walk is fantastic – punctuated by towers and overlooking the sea it takes you right around the circumference of the city. There is no shade up there and the crowd moved slowly. We were over-heated and back down in the cooler streets we re-hydrated at that opulent water fountain.
Above the old town a cable car takes you to a viewing point for stunning views up and down the coast and out over the islands. It’s hard to believe this seaside tourist resort was under siege for 8 months in the early 1990’s and that beautiful old town was shelled continuously by what remained of the former Yugoslav army as they tried to take Dubrovnik from the newly independent Croatia. Yes, it’s complicated.
After a morning in and around the old town we headed back to the beach and spent the afternoon swimming in the crystal-clear waters of the Adriatic.
Croatia is the newest member of EU, joining in 2013, and the second only other Balkan country in the union along with Bulgaria. Dubrovnik is only one part of Croatia, but it looks much more modern and far more affluent than its neighbours. Unfortunately, with its popularity it risks becoming another homogenised Mediterranean resort town.
Our first week on tour was over in this fascinating part of the world. The next day we were heading to country number 5 – Montenegro.
Julie and I went through Yugoslavia in late 1989. Probably the most unsettling “country” we visited (Syria was a close second). Sadly a portent if things to come. The Cellist of Sarajevo is a must read about the seige.
Thanks for the book recommendation Tim. I’ll download it on Kindle now.