Street Kids

This morning I got up to an empty bedroom for the first time in weeks and felt that odd sense of freedom you get when travelling alone. Freedom to go where I want, do what I want, see what I want and of course the freedom to walk around starkers should I fancy it.

I took my time about getting ready, did an expert repack of my bag and perfected my previously shoddy henna skills. Not to shabby if I do say so myself!

For the first time in my life I was able to take a leisurely stroll to the station because I was SO EARLY and plonked myself down to wait for the bus. 

Within minutes I was bombarded by three street kids, all girls aged around 5, 6 and 11 years old. I'm ashamed to say I acted in the usual fashion, attempting to get rid of them as quickly as possible saying I had no money (which was genuinely true for once) however these three were rather persistent so after a little while I began chatting to them, in broken bits of English, Spanish, Portuguese, German and lots of mime.

They told me how they were sisters and slept around the back of the bus station. They had no parents and had to beg everyday for food. Most people ignored them, which was sad sometimes, but at least they were together. I showed them a picture of my sister and they told me how beautiful she is. I retorted that they haven't seen her as she'd just woken up and laughed in agreement, poking fun at each other. The conversation was not grave but amicable, with lots of smiles, giggles and asking me about my home, whilst trying on various bits of my jewellery.

Feeling touched by their presence, I gave them a present each of a ring and two bracelets of their choosing. Immediately after they ran away from me, fearful that I might retract my gift. Seeing my initial confusion, they cautiously returned before settling down to chat again. It saddened me a little that these beautiful young girls were wary to trust even someone who had been kind to them.

After a while they helped me find my bus and carry my bags (I confess I was a little worried about them running off, but I'd decided trust had got me this far, why not give it a chance?) The driver shunned the youngest as she went to check whether it was the right stop, but she simply shrugged and beckoned that I would have to do it.

Saying goodbye, I didn't really know what to do. We'd known each other only 30 minutes and yet I felt a strange connection to these girls. Leaving with just a 'see ya, have a nice life' seemed rather inadequate. Squeezing their shoulders and telling them how beautiful they are was barely an improvement, but with no parents to remind them I decided they deserved to hear it.

As I went to board the driver stopped me and demanded 2 bosnian-whatever-they're-called for my backpack. Having already paid for my ticket and spent the last of my pennies on paying for the hostel the night before, I was quite literally skint, but on telling the driver so he just shrugged and took my bag off the bus. I stood there, dumbstruck, at a loss of what to do. My new friends looked at me with understanding eyes, just as a kind norwegian gentleman jumped off the bus and paid for my bag as well as his own. I thanked him profusely, beaming at the girls who then proceeded to beg him for money - you can't teach an old dog and all that. I couldn't help but chuckle, climbing on the bus accompanied with a wave of airborne kisses and shouts of 'gruezi!'

Make of it what you will, but it's proved a rather thought provoking morning for me. I'm currently munching on a peach I acquired from that same kind stranger, who claims that England has given him so much during his travels there, he is simply paying a minute part of it back.

Assassination of Franz Ferdinand; 99th Anniversary

(Sorry for the multiple uploads today, the Wifi has been a bit shoddy recently!)

Our exploration of Sarajevo began with a visit the Latin Bridge and the sight where Franz and Sofia Ferdinand were assassinated, which was on the 28th June 1914. 99 years ago to the day. We didn't even plan it intentionally! I found it really strange to stand in pretty much the exact spot Gavrillo Princip stood as he took aim for the shot which would shake up the entire future of Europe. I wonder if he had even an inkling of what he was about to start.

Views walking down from the hostel. A perk of being up so high. (Instagram @josiepanda)

(Instagram @mitchellckc)

The old town is gorgeous, reminiscent of Istanbul according to Steve and Josie. We walked in as a call to prayer echoed through the cobbled streets and I was able to witness my first Muslim prayer ritual. Is it bad to find the customs of a religion that is relatively alien to me fascinating? I don't mean to patronise or condescend, as I have no idea what I believe in, I just think it's interesting to see different forms and places of worship. Religious studies has always been a particular passion of mine.

For lunch we had some traditional Bosnian Ćevapčhičhi, which was delicious and after just 3€ worth I was fit to burst.

We wandered down to the memorial for the 1992-1995 war, which is a beautiful fountain in a park just next to the main high street. There was also a list of children who had died during the war, which really hit home when I noticed that many were born the same year as me, but were deprived of their privilege of life before they'd even turned three. Looking around at the young Bosnians in the street I realised that many of them must have lived through the war; some may even remember it. It's so strange to consider something like that happening in my life time but at the same time, it still very much a reality for many citizens across Middle East and Africa. Children die needlessly in war because adults act like children. We forget the important things and protect our pride and greed and honour and whatever other stupid, unnecessary, selfish tendencies we possess, rather than those innocents who are crying out for peace.

We decided to head to a shisha bar to wind down after a hardcore day of sightseeing. It was SO CHEAP I could barely believe my ears when the waiter told us the equivalent of £2.50 for one! I don't even smoke but even I was tempted at that price.

The evening was spent in true traveller/hippy fashion, dreadlocking more of my hair (I'm now up to 13 dreads!), attempting to use henna and failing because being an idiot I cut the nozzle too thick. We managed to improvise though...

I also knitted some more headbands whilst the others span around in a hammock and massaged each other. Literally Emily hippy paradise.

We got the train to Mostar this morning - early get ups are much easier when you're drunk on culture and jelly sweets. Let's see where the day takes us.

Journey to Sarajevo

Luckily we had a a private bus for the five of us plus our two dorm mates, Zach and Tom from Leeds. We all passed out for the first few hours, Steve trumping us all with his initiative and opting to stretch out on the floor, until we arrived at our first stop off, a 24 hour trout farm. We must have been a sight for sore eyes as we stumbled inside, bleary eyed still covered in last nights now panda-esk eye-liner and cigarette infused beer stench, drooling over the soft drink selection but completely penniless. So whilst the driver gorged on his breakfast and coffee, we all reluctantly sauntered back to the van feeling rather sorry for ourselves.

At the second stop I discovered a rather strange rash appearing on my arm that looked a little like this...

You see those red spots? Nothing too serious but I kept an eye on it all the same.

The drive was breathtaking for the most part. The views were absolutely awe-inspiring and had it not been for my extreme fatigue I would have really enjoyed the journey. However a combination of hangover, motion sickness and ridiculously windy roads, along with a drive who liked to break as hard as possible at the last humanly imaginable second made for a rather nauseating trip.

We crept up to Sarajevo from above, giving us a spectacular view of the city. I literally couldn't believe my eyes. The city was situated in a valley, it's expanse of white washed houses scattered up the hillsides reminded me of a cluster of stars sprinkled amongst a leafy green sky, which slowly became more concentrated towards the core and glittered in the sunlight. 

(You can't really tell, but despite the cloud cover it was actually quite sunny. This picture really doesn't do it justice)

Finding the hostel proved to be a bit of an adventure. As usual, the satnav managed to get lost and we ended up having the grand tour of Sarajevo's higher regions. However after asking around a dozen locals and dying for some fresh air, we finally arrived at our hostel. Near the top of a mountain. In the middle of no where. Locked and completely devoid of people.

Now considering that since we'd set off all we'd been dreaming about was the bed that was awaiting us, unsurprisingly we were starting to lose the will to live. Whilst Josie, Mitch and I were contemplating our certain death atop a Bosnian mountain, Caitlin and Steve decided to entertain themselves by climbing cherry trees and playing with stray dogs, with the most impressive amount of fake energy I have ever witnessed. I'll never understand those crazy cats.

Oliver, owner of the hostel, arrived around 45 minutes later, with rather dilated pupils and a toothy grin that was impossible to be mad at, even with his only half hearted apology about picking up some other backpackers from the station.

So we slept, ate and slept some more, in order to feel fresh for our day in Sarajevo. Oh and that rash I mentioned earlier? Well, it got a little worse...

It's currently itchy as hell but on the plus side I'm drugged up to my eyeballs on antihistamines making everything rather dreamlike and lovely. What would a trip be without some kind of accident or ailment at my expense eh? It'd be a shame to break tradition. ;)