Bridge to Border: A Glimpse of Sarajevo

The 20-hour delay in getting to the Balkans has really thrown me into a bit of an exhaustion spiral. Getting up this morning was a challenge. I did it, but honestly considered flying ahead and skipping Serbia. Alas, the flights to do that take over 24 hours, so not much point. I pressed ahead with Plan B from yesterday.

Breakfast at the hotel is served individually and is massive. I don’t need or want most of it, but manage to get through the cheeses and breads, as well as the omelette. I really hope they just give the many small bowls of things I don’t even touch to the next person—it feels so wasteful. I go for a quick wander and get some water for the bus ride.

I’m not really a bus person, but it was the quickest and best-timed way to get back onto my itinerary. I paid for my ticket online and took a taxi to the bus station. It seems that despite already having a ticket, I need to exchange it for a paper one for another 1 Mark. I do that, then have to pay another 2 Marks for my bag. I’m sure that was already paid for, but for AUD$3 I can’t be bothered arguing.

Onboard, I take the front row with prime window viewing access. I generally get motion sickness in cars and buses if I can’t see where I’m going—or sometimes even if I can. I’ve got some sweet and salty snacks with me just in case, but I’m pleased to say neither were needed on this trip. The scenery distracted me for the first half of the journey as we wound along a river, then later a series of lakes filling the space between two mountain ranges.

Through tunnels and over bridges we crisscross the valley. My photography efforts are hampered by the dirty front window—and trees always appearing the second I lift my camera. Occasionally, I spot a rail bridge or train track, but not that often. The train journey was supposed to be the scenic option, but this bus ride is exceeding my expectations. The journey from Mostar up to the capital, Sarajevo, is stunning.

It’s a different kind of landscape to what I’m used to at home (for starters, there are mountains), and to places like Switzerland or Canada. Instead of green fields or densely packed forests, it’s a mix of greenery and bare rock. It looks both dry and wet at the same time—hard to explain, but striking. Being a local bus, we stop in small towns, unlike the tourist coaches that seem to pause at scenic lookouts or attractions.

We pick up locals and occasionally receive small packages via the driver’s window—later dropped off at underpasses and street corners where someone is waiting. The scenery disappears as we arrive in Sarajevo, replaced by mid-level high-rise apartments in that stark, concrete style that screams, “we’re behind the Iron Curtain.”

Geographically we are behind what was once called the Iron Curtain, but Yugoslavia—the precursor to today’s Balkan states—was socialist, not aligned with the Soviet Union. I wanted to visit Sarajevo to understand more about what happened here in the 1990s. I remember seeing news footage growing up—bombings, conflict, war—but I was too young to really take it in. That history lesson will have to wait, as I get off the bus and head straight to the airport.

Even on this short drive through the city, the signs of a tragic history are still visible. Buildings bear the wounds of what must have happened here—bullet holes in the walls and some larger scars, presumably from explosions or rockets. Some buildings have been patched up, but the mismatched tones of faded paint make the damage easy to spot. There are newer builds too, but that heavy socialist vibe still lingers. It’s a shame I couldn’t explore more or learn firsthand—maybe a deep Google rabbit hole and a documentary will have to do. Bus trip complete, I wait for my flight to Serbia, a little disappointed that my time in Bosnia was so rushed.Leer más