Tom's adventures through eastern Europe with two friends for 3 weeks in the summer of 2007. This site is a collection of photos, diaries, notes and thoughts.
September 22, 2007 – Newport
First, my apologies for not finishing this sooner. I left my diary with my notes in at a hostel in Montenegro and had few opportunities while traveling to add to the site. Hopefully, having left it a few weeks, my reflections will make for as interesting reading.
We stayed in Dubrovnik for three nights. During our stay, we visited a nearby island (even Becka managed a dip in the sea, as well as her towel and shoes) and wondered about the ancient old town. Having been home, my grandfather showed my a sketch he drew in the 1970s of the main street in the old town – it’s changed now. It’s more commercial, there’s more shops, supermarkets and tourist-traps.
Dubrovnik and Split are both very pleasant places. Perhaps a little busier than some may like, now Croatia is a popular holiday resort. I’d recommend both.
The train line stops in Split, so we got another bus to our next destination, Montenegro.
One of the newest countries in the world, Montenegro was part of Yugoslavia and then Serbia and Montenegro. First recognised by Iceland in June 2006, the country has received European Union funding to give itself a leg-up. While not in the EU just yet, they do use the euro currency – something we all understood.
The bus drove around the edge of the coast – out of Croatia and into Montenegro. We stopped at a town called Kotor, near one of the main airports. Most people got off the bus here – so the drivers moved us onto a smaller local bus, along with many other people. After a worrying journey trying to decide where our stop, Budva, actually was, we eventually made it and bargained with a taxi driver to take us to our hostel.
We only had two days and a night here – but we made the most of it.
It’s a very beautiful country. We sat by a beach for a whole afternoon, playing with the pebbles (there are few sand beaches). The towns, still a little rough from the war and low economic interest looked a little sad, but there was plenty of hope. A row of motoryachts with British and American flags in the harbor gave the town some glamour. Even McDonald’s managed to make it, with a sea-side outdoor restaurant. We’d all like to go back and explore, but we must move on.
Rachel convinced us it was a good idea to get the night bus for the next leg of our journey. This would take us from the coast of Montenegro, into Bosnia and Herzegovina, to the capital, Sarajevo. It’s only 300 km, but there is no motorway or major roads. Some stretches of the road wasn’t even made up – just left as dirt tracks. The bus left before midnight and we were to arrive at about 6.30 the next morning.
At the bus station we met a Russian girl called Anna from Moscow. She studies at Cambridge, but was traveling around as much of Europe as she could. I never really valued an EU passport so much until she explained how difficult it is to get visas. Some can take six weeks to get, and a bit of cash. Her Bosnia and Herzegovina visa was rushed a bit and didn’t look like it had been completed properly.
It took me a while to fall asleep on the bus. We were quite close to the back – the smell and sound of the engine wasn’t appealing, but eventually I slept until we were all woken up at the passport border. We handed over our passports to a policeman. One man right at the back of the bus was causing a bit of fuss. As far as we could tell, he didn’t have a passport or ID. We cleared Montenegro, with a large well-lit EU funded border crossing made from steel and glass, and drove around a large bend, over a little wooden bridge and to the passport control of Bosnia and Herzegovina. This was essentially a small cabin with a corrugated iron roof. It did the job. The gentleman who had caused the fuss earlier was taken off the bus by a Bosnian policeman – we didn't see him get back on again. Half an hour later, everybody’s passports had been checked (and stamped, much to Becka’s joy – collecting stamps for her new, blank, passport), we entered Bosnia and Herzegovina and headed to Sarajevo.
This part of Europe was at war between 1992 and 1995. Many buildings still haven’t been repaired since. As a result of the war and the treaties signed, Bosnia and Herzegovina has three presidents which rotate around. Many people of generations older than mine will remember the war, but this makes for interesting reading to catch up.
We arrived at a bus station, far outside of the city centre at 6.30 in the morning. Foreign buses don't tend to go into the city – relations are still tense. We had no local money and no real idea where we were suppose to be going. Our guidebook, the Lonely Planet, offers little advice for this part of the world – but we did manage to discover there were two bus stations and we were at one of them.
Rachel went off with a German couple to find an ATM, while we tried to get our bearings, a bit sleep deprived and hungry. We had the address of a hostel, which we showed to a taxi driver. He'd take us there for €10 – rather than mark, the local currency which Rachel managed to get a bit of from an ATM.
We arrived at the hostel at 7.30 am. An Australian was sitting outside. He'd pressed the bell and was waiting for somebody to answer. A tired young man answered the door. He gave us a quick tour, said our beds were still being slept in (check out wasn't until 12), so we made ourselves comfortable in the common room. The table had various empty beer and spirit bottles on it. One by one, the guests appeared. They looked like they'd had a good night. That was generally the philosophy of Haris Hostel. The guy that answered the door was Haris. He's 19, but he's been running the hostel since he was 15. During the war, his house had bomb damage and the top floor had to be rebuilt. To pay back the loan they took out, they made it a little bigger than needed and turned into a 30-person hostel. On the traveler review sites, it rates very highly. Yet it has no kitchen and only one shower. Shows how much you really need and what a good atmosphere and a good owner can do.
Haris took us for a tour around Sarajevo. We started with the tunnel. Built during the war, the tunnel runs under the airport, which was under the control of the United Nations, to safe Bosnian territory. The Serbian forces had Sarajevo otherwise surrounded. All of the cities supplies came through the tunnel, which was 1.6 metres high and a metre wide. Men would carry 50kg (110lbs) packs on their back through the tunnel, taking 40 minutes. We also visited the Olympic stadium, from the 1984 Winter Olympics and Sniper's Alley, an infamous road frequently attacked during the war. The city could be one of the top cities in Europe if it wasn't for the siege during the war. It's on the mend though and reform is happening.
A friend of Rachel's is from Sarajevo, we met up with her a couple of times. She took us to some nice places to eat to have traditional Bosnian food and one of the best hot chocolates I've ever had. It's a fantastic city and I'd love to go back, but once again, we have to move on.
We got the train to Budapest in Hungary with two Australian girls who were staying in our hostel. The 12-hour journey passes through Croatia (more stamps!) and then through the Hungary. We only stayed in Budapest one night, with enough time to get a little taste of the city. Six hours just isn't enough, so I'll have to return there. We had to get back to Bratislava for our flight.
Sorry this entry was so late, and so rushed. A lot happened in a short space of time. I'd recommend you visit all the places I visited. Montenegro for a little off the beaten track, Croatia for a great holiday, a Sarajevo for somewhere you'll never forget.
Thanks for reading.