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Writer's pictureCaitlin Go

Week 30 & 31: Leaving the Balkans

It is time. We have reached the end of our early Euro summer, which has worked out more beautifully than we could have imagined. We spent the last few weeks in Croatia and Bosnia and Herzegovina.

Shortly after we left Montenegro, we experienced our first European heatwave, which meant the mercury crept up into the high thirties. It was around the same time that we realised our Dubrovnik accommodation did not have air conditioning. This resulted in us living in “fan bake” setting, as the fan whizzed round on the high setting permanently, moving the hot air around the room.


Without air con, our solution was to indulge in many spritzes (or a Schweppes bitter lemon for Jerry) and continue our daily sea swims. When it’s this hot, the sea is one of the few respites. It was amazingly clear, and the surface was like bathwater! Our swim off the pier was one of my favourite swims to date.



Those who have watched Game of Thrones will recognise many sites from there, as Dubrovnik was the site where they filmed King’s Landing. This meant I spent a lot of time explaining the entire plot of Game of Thrones to Jerry, who wanted to understand the references around Dubrovnik, but refused to watch GoT with me back in university.


We also set out to spend our time outside before 11am, or after 5pm. The benefits were twofold - we avoided the hottest part of the day, and we dodged some of the crowds as well. Being a cruise ship port, and having the title of “pearl of the Adriatic”, Dubrovnik is POPULAR. Add that to its feature in Game of Thrones, and you have a bustling spot. It’s well earned, as Dubrovnik old town is beautiful, with its city walls, narrow stone alleyways, and terracotta roofs. We did all the free viewpoints on the first day, to evaluate if we really wanted to see the walls. The conclusion is that we did - there really is no view of the old town as good as from the walls, even if the entrance fee is expensive!



Since we decided to walk the walls, we were up early to head into the old city and entered the walls from the lesser-used side gate, right at 8am. If you’re heading to Dubrovnik, we recommend the Dubrovnik pass, as it’s exactly the same cost as the wall ticket, plus you get free buses for the day, and there are also a bunch of other museums. We weren’t sure we’d see the museums, but it turns out we saw almost all of them, thanks to their delightful toilets and air conditioning (I promise we briefly looked at the exhibits too!) The Dubrovnik pass also got us into the fortress outside the city, which has incredible vistas over town, and overlooked our favourite swimming spot. 



Having joined the EU, Croatia now uses the euro, which means higher prices for food as well - but always one to scout a deal, we spotted a morning tea spot with coffee, croissant, and juice, all for the price of a coffee somewhere else… Plus, what a view.



Meeting up with friends and family continues to be a highlight of our travels. We managed to coordinate with our wonderful family friends Judi and Mark, who are on their own trip over here. What are the chances? Plus, their route is in the opposite direction, but covering many similar spots we visited, so we got to chat shop about specifics in different cities.

As we left Dubrovnik, the heat kept on rising. The day we took our bus to Split, it topped out at 41 degrees while our bus took a break at a rest stop. Standing in the sun at 41 degrees, the hottest I’ve ever experienced, made me incredibly aware of how a heatwave can kill. Jerry and I have both experienced lightheadedness and difficulty thinking straight over the past couple of weeks, and that was with five water bottles, as well as the privilege of a home base to return to and cool off.

I felt extra grateful as I got a sliver of Wi-Fi while at that rest stop, and Google served me a news article, “BLACKOUT ACROSS MULTIPLE BALKAN REGIONS AMIDST HEATWAVE”. As it turns out, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Montenegro, Albania, and parts of Croatia all lost power that day, hence the electronic toilet doors not opening and no coffee available at the rest stop. We thanked our lucky stars for the air-conditioned bus.


We have read and heard from others that island hopping around Croatia was a highlight of their trips, and I can believe it. It is so exquisitely beautiful here. However, we already feel spoiled. We have seen so much, island hopped in Greece, rented a private boat in Montenegro…We think we are content with what we’ve seen. So, our time in Split was leisurely, with bakery lunches, hot chips as we wandered the old town, and a cocktail on the promenade every evening (it even had misters under the sun umbrellas, so we were misted every few minutes with a gentle spray of cool water. So posh.)



We also tackled some thrilling tasks, like our taxes. Thanks Jerry for pushing that one over the line. More accurately represented, thanks for dragging me, kicking and screaming, as I tried to find any excuse not to do it. For a few days, I also had a summer cold, which is in my opinion, the worst time to get a cold (colds are meant for cold weather, with blankets and cups of steaming tea, not during heatwaves).


People often ask if we get tired, after travelling this long. If you had asked me on the 24th of June, I can say with confidence that I would’ve said yes. It’s too hot to have a fever. I’m exhausted. I want to stay in this bed, even though there’s a spring digging in between my shoulder blades and I can’t breathe through my nose when I lie down. But if I zoom out, a few weeks later, I can say that I would have said that in any setting. At least I got to be miserable, then shake it off and sip an orange juice on the Adriatic Coast. 




The first thing I noticed as we entered Mostar were the bullet holes. To be fair, I might not have noticed them, if I hadn’t primed myself by reading up on the Bosnian War before we arrived.

As Yugoslavia broke apart in the early nineties, they declared their independence. This resulted in a vicious fight between Serbians, Croatians, and Bosniaks, in relation to land rights and religious beliefs, which ultimately resulted in hundreds of thousands of deaths, a genocide of the Bosnian Muslim population, and a NATO enforced military stalemate. Bosnia and Herzegovina now have three presidents, one from each ethnic/religious population. As you can imagine, while this is preferable to war, it is not ideal for getting day-to-day government actions across the line. We heard a lot of perspectives, from our Airbnb hosts, our walking tour guides, and from Amir, our Bosnian bus bestie, who sat next to us during the seven-hour trip from Sarajevo to Zagreb and was more than willing to share both his thoughts and knowledge, as well as his delicious homemade lunch.


 

As we travel through yet another country that has been ravaged by genocide, I recognise that there is a gaping hole in my writing. Palestine. At first, I think Jerry and I rationalised that we showed our stance through actions, and in our one-on-one conversations. However, in truth, a big part of it has been fear - fear of stepping outside my depth, of confrontation, for not expressing myself well enough. Later, it felt like there was a timeline for speaking out, and I had waited too long. But as we write about our journey across the world, documenting our learning about the often brutal and heartbreaking history that has come before us, it has felt so jarring not to comment here.  As we visited Auschwitz-Birkenau and the Tuol-Sleng Genocide Museum on opposite sides of the world within the same week; as we bore witness to tens of thousands protesting in the streets of Istanbul; as we read the writing on the wall within the small museum of genocide here in Mostar, the guilt of not speaking has eaten away at me.


What is happening to the Palestinian people is an inexcusable tragedy. Regardless of what you believe the ideal solution is to the division of land, there is never justification for genocide. There is plenty of evidence of the oppression of political rights, restriction of food, water, and shelter, and the indiscriminate bombing of civilian populations. I wonder whether one day my children will walk through a museum like we did, and ask how this happened, again.


From Jerry: As someone who doesn't tend to post much on social media, I find it very difficult to write now. However, being in such a privileged position in life, it felt necessary to share some of my thoughts. 


Over the course of our travels this year, I have learned more about horrific moments inflicted by humans onto other fellow humans. I would read on a museum wall that we mustn't repeat our mistakes, before entering the next museum, and reading about the genocide that unfolded, the justification, the denial, again and again. It is so saddening that you can swap out different peoples and countries, and history and the atrocities taking place in Gaza reads eerily similarly. That's why I can't continue to silently condemn what is happening, but to find the voice to openly say what I feel.

 



While the war was evident in every place and interaction we had in BiH, it was also so much more than its recent history. Bosnians are very proud of their coffee, their hospitality, and their exquisite scenery. While we marginally preferred Bosnian coffee to Turkish, we’ll probably stick to our cappuccinos and americanos long term. But the hospitality and scenery were world class. Mostar’s old town reminded us of Kruje and Gjirokaster in Albania, with its winding cobblestone paths and bustling bazaar. After watching the coppersmiths working each day, we came away with a piece of copper-based artwork, which is probably my last souvenir before we post home from the UK.


MOSTAR

SARAJEVO

Sarajevo was a city of many cultures, including both Ottoman and Austro-Hungarian influences. It had such a lovely atmosphere and was one of our favourite city stops. The pistachio gelato I had was some of the best I’ve tasted, and Jerry loved one of the doner places so much, we went back most days.



In Zagreb, I was once again afflicted with illness; this time a mysterious illness that just needed a lot of rest and curling up in the foetal position. FYI, I’m not pregnant. We triple checked. So, we treated Zagreb much like Split, with relaxed strolls, bakery stops, and rest.

This was only interrupted by frantically packing for Ryanair, while I still had all my souvenirs to fit into the bag. We had chosen to check our bags for this flight, as it was cheaper than paying the carry-on fee for a 10kg bag. We slightly overdid it, as both of our bags only ended up being 8.5kg, as confirmed when they were weighed at the counter. Hey, we must have gotten stronger! The raincoats have emerged from the bottom of our bags, so UK summer, here we come.




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