Home! The Holiday Afterword.

Yes, ice cubes exist in Europe. We have evidence.

What food did we enjoy with our icy cold beverages? On occasion we sampled local fare; and with little exception, we could find pretty much any cuisine we were in the mood for.  

For example, this ambrosial pizza (and excellent, spicy, Chinese delivery) in Zagreb.  

In Sarajevo I was not tempted by their version of Cevapi, a dish of minced grilled meat similar to kebabs that is popular throughout Central Europe. In general I do not like Cevapi, but since Bosnian food also has Eastern European and Mediterranean influences, I enjoyed the sarma (stuffed cabbage with lamb) and grape leaves stuffed with rice. Anna Grace and I also savored a Lebanese-influenced chicken curry lunch at a tiny Arabic restaurant that was quite memorable.

We passed on this gelato from a vendor in Sarajevo, however.

In the "it's a small world" category, the Lebanese owner of the restaurant chatted with us while we were enjoying the meal. We learned that she, too, was from the metro DC area, having only moved to Sarajevo a couple of years ago; and she, too, frequented the Lebanese Market in Arlington, one of our favorite stops for middle eastern groceries.  

In Belgrade we really liked the popular street snack of popcorn sprinkled with "chicken flavoring."  Do not knock it until you've tried it.

We also took advantage of room service in Belgrade. On our last night I ordered "Chicken Paillard in Caper Sauce with Seasonal Vegetables" from the Chef's Menu, and received "Chicken Paillard in Dill Sauce with Pomme Frites" instead.  The night before, the chef thought we were Russian because we only wanted cheese on our pizza, and not the Bosnian favorite of ketchup and olives, so perhaps he thought that, being Russian, I would prefer dill to capers.  Funny.

The aromas from this lokanta on a side street off Taksim Square called to us one day for lunch. Lokantas are Turkish equivalents of the Eastern European milk bar, the small cafeterias featuring ready-made traditional dishes, sort of the precursor to "fast food," but much better tasting. As it so happened, this particular lokanta was named one of Istanbul's "10 Best" by the UK Guardian newspaper: "If Lades were a car, it might be an old Volvo estate-nothing exotic, but extremely safe and reliable."

We shared a plate of lamb with stewed green beans. Nothing exotic, but extremely tasty and satisfying.

We enjoyed dinner at Ali's restaurant so much one night in Istanbul that we returned a second night. Ali remembered us and had the chef prepare something not on the menu, an almost stir-fry like dish of lamb, peppers, onions and eggplant served with tumeric potato puree and rice. Spicy, savory, and delicious.

One of the little street kitties sneaked up to share dinner with Anna Grace.

In addition to street kitties, street doggies (all tagged so they could be monitored), there were also street chickens in our neighborhood in Istanbul.

Street food was everywhere from Zagreb to Istanbul.

Even for the pigeons. Many bird seed vendors were set up in Sarajevo and Istanbul; pennies bought you a cup of seed to feed the birds, and it was a sport favored by the young and old alike.

Something not go well on your holiday?  "Complaint Books" were in every hotel, restaurant, and bigger store throughout Croatia, Bosnia, and Serbia for you to lodge that complaint.

We, of course, have no complaints with signs like this.

Elder Turkish gentlemen going about their day. Love the hats.

Fall fashions?

We spied many restaurants with this display; Ali told us this was a sign of a tourist trap.  Real restaurants would not waste bread like this, he said.

Yes, we think he was selling leeches, too.  His competitor further up the street seemed to be doing better business, though.

A novel way to reserve a parking space (Sarajevo and Istanbul).  I may try this on my own street here to see what happens.

Arabic calligraphy. (I passed my class with a 90%, by the way.)

Unexpected trompe l'oeil at Topkapi.

Unicorn mosaics lined one of the gates leading toward Babylon, we learned at the Archaeology Museum in Istanbul. 

The spectacular view from our hotel room. European Istanbul on the left; Asian Istanbul on the right. Leaving the cradle of civilization was hard, as not only was Istanbul as exotic as expected, but it also meant that our holiday had come to an end. 

12 days, 4 countries, 2 continents (we flew home from the Asian side of Istanbul), and 4.578km later, we are home.  Anna Grace wasted no time in catching up on sleepovers with friends, and I wasted no time resuming my routine of a weekly heuriger outing with my favorite guy.

On our last night in Istanbul Anna Grace asked, "Where are we going next summer?"

The Balkan-Central Europe-Southeastern Europe Holiday: Sarajevo to Belgrade

So much more than 1000 words in this photo of a Eurolines bus that ran out of gas, with its door open to dump passengers (and their luggage) on a boulevard on a busy afternoon. 

I asked Valida about transportation to Belgrade on our first day and was offered two bus options, as the rail infrastructure was so badly damaged during the war that there are no international trains. The first, an hourly morning Bosnian bus taking “approximately 8 hours” to reach Belgrade. Having experienced Balkan Time on the previous Bosnian transit, this option was unceremoniously nixed. The second option was more appealing: a Eurolines bus, air-conditioned and with a transit time of “about 6 hours.” The catch was that there was only one daily departure, at 06:00.  This was a no-brainer.

Although very sad to be leaving Sarajevo, we were anticipating comfortable and relatively short (all things considered) travel to the capital of the former Yugoslavia. Our spirits were not dampened when 06:00 came and went and we were still waiting in the bus terminal. Balkan Time is a powerful force.

At 06:25 our bus finally arrived, and we boarded to discover that a woman had taken our reserved seating. No big deal, we thought-the seats across the aisle from ours were empty, so we sat down.  Then we discovered why the seats were empty: the control box for the radio (?) was beneath the seats in front, leaving us with no leg room. Our guess was that the woman did not want “her” seat, either, and simply took ours.

At the first stop I asked if we could exchange our seats, to which she replied, “Typical American.” The passenger sitting behind us said something in Bosnian, and several other passengers laughed.  But at least she moved.

An hour into the travel the bus pulled into a station in a little speck of a town. The bus driver announced something in Bosnian that elicited groans from the other passengers, and everyone alit from the bus. The passengers dispersed for coffee and smokes, and we sad little Americans just sat on the bench, eating the wonderful breakfast that Valida had packed for us and wondering what was going on.  We must have looked pitiful enough, for the owner of the small market at the station came over and asked if we spoke Russian or German, then explained in German that the bus had a defect and we were waiting for another bus.

So much for “about 6 hours.”

A second bus arrived and we boarded. The woman who name-called, and the assclown passenger who joked about us, laughed at us when we boarded and sat in our reserved seats.  The bus rolled up and down hills, through towns tiny and tinier, and across the border into Serbia. Scenic, mostly, but not a trip I would recommend.

Our seats were in the second row on the passenger side, so I (and the guy in the front row) had a spectacular view of the bus driver. He was new to the route, and the auxiliary bus driver with us was helping him out. The bus had a manual transmission, which he stalled on several occasions. The new driver also forgot a passenger at a stop (who had foolishly gotten off to use the WC), and had to back the bus up on a busy road to return for her.

With about 50km remaining to Belgrade, Front Seat Guy and I noticed the driver tapping on the dash, and in particular, on the fuel gauge. Auxiliary Bus Driver had fallen asleep. I texted Tony:

“50km to go and the driver is tapping on the fuel gauge. Think we’re going to make it to Belgrade?”

He replied, “Good luck is all I’ve got.”

Front Seat Guy and I sighed in relief when we crossed the Belgrade city limit sign, and before long we were in the heart of the city on a busy Saturday afternoon heading toward the bus station. The bus stopped at a traffic light, and did not start again.  The bus had run out of fuel!

From the reaction of the bus driver (and Auxiliary Bus Driver, and Bosnian passengers) this was not a new phenomenon. The drivers exited the bus, in the middle lane of a busy boulevard, and opened the luggage hatch.  Horns sounded and traffic swerved around us passengers as we wheeled our bags to the sidewalk, and, thankfully up the street to the bus station and taxi stand.

We may have purchased bus tickets to Belgrade, but the tickets had not specified where in Belgrade we would be deposited. 

The Balkan-Central Europe-Southeastern Europe Holiday: Sarajevo, Times of Misfortune

The Latin Bridge. Doesn't ring a bell? How about, "Site where Archduke Franz Ferdinand I, heir to the Austro-Hungarian Empire was assassinated?" As history has it, the driver of the Archduke's vehicle had gotten lost, and stopped serendipitously to ask the assassin for directions (seriously!) The Empire then declared war on Serbia, inspiring the Central Powers and the Allies to start WWI (and, some say, WWII, the Cold War, and maybe even the Bosnian War.)   Perhaps this explains why men never stop to ask for directions?

This once-pretty building, marked with shrapnel, is near to the bridge.

Our "Times of Misfortune" tour began at the fortress atop Sarajevo. From this vantage point the Serbian forces had spectacular aim at the city below.

One of the Bosnian Muslim cemeteries with its simple white obelisk gravestones.

Most of the markers in the cemetery date between 1992 and 1995.

The Sarajevo Central Cemetery. The darker area in the middle holds predominantly the flat, gray gravestones of Orthodox Serbians, with Bosnian obelisks all around. The Olympic Stadium from the 1984 games was used as a temporary cemetery until the area could be expanded during and after the war.

Our tour also took us to the Tunnel Museum, which documents the tunnel between the Serbian/Bosnian controlled areas and the UN-controlled airport that served as the food and medical lifeline for Sarajevo. Regular Sarajevo citizens had to request permits to receive aid at the tunnel, which generally took 4-6 months to process; once the permit was received, it was a game of survival to reach the tunnel for the aid package and return home again.

A small section of the tunnel was available to walk through. The Serbian forces largely ignored the Bosnians who were leaving Sarajevo via this route--they wanted Sarajevo residents to leave.

Much of the tour was at a basic level, not really delving into personal stories and the like, which Anna Grace and I would have preferred. There was an older person in our small group, though, who posed the kinds of questions that made us scratch our heads and wonder, "Were you under a rock in the 90's?" so it is possible the guide tailored his narrative for him. We also only drove past the "Sniper's Alley," which our guide generally dismissed with a wave of his hand, saying, "It is just a street."  Still, the tour was a good overview of the war's impact on Sarajevo, something that could not easily have been done ourselves.

The Balkan-Central Europe-Southeastern Europe Holiday: Sarajevo

Sarajevo seemed deep enough into the Balkan Peninsula to drop the "Central European" part of the title, but then over breakfast on the following morning, Valida, our guest house host, schooled us in her version of geopolitics. So while we're no longer in the Balkans, but, rather, Southeastern Europe, I'll keep all the titles just in case.

Sarajevo is as elegant as Vienna and as exotic as we expect Istanbul to be. Enjoy the photos!

Baščaršija, the Old City market. The better part of our first day was spent wending and winding down tiny lanes and treasure-packed stores.

Old world craftsmanship and post-war entreprenuership. 

Too many Lokum choices for us! We stuck with a favorite flavor, rose water.

And when we needed a break from the heat, beautiful places to enjoy a mint tea were all around.

Bey's Mosque in the Old City Market

We were surprised to see a woman using the fountain in the mosque courtyard to rinse her fruits and vegetables.

Outside of the market, the elegance of Vienna is sprinkled along the streets...

...literally.  The trams are hand-me-downs to Sarajevo from Vienna! Nearly twenty years post war, the beautiful city of Sarajevo continues to rebuild.

In the Central Market, a marker at the site where the worst single atrocity of the war occurred.

St. Mark's Cathedral, not spared from war damage, but careful restoration is underway.