Bosnian food and culture

An hour long flight from a small airport in Sarajevo is not enough to prepare oneself for a metropolis like Istanbul. Our hosts, with big, friendly smiles on their faces, took us from the airport to our accommodation. After giving us a moment to unpack, they greeted us again, but this time bringing fresh fruit and Turkish tea, something I'll be having plenty of in the days to come. We sat on cushions that were on the floor around a sofra, a low, round table, and conversation started flowing. We were all girls, talking and laughing, as the men didn’t sit with us. Even though a secular county, Turkey is still very conservative and religious. Turkish tea is served boiling hot, something my tongue found out as soon as we got the tea, and in small glasses because of the strong taste. During the next few days we’d created a ritual of our own: after a day of walking and exploring the city we would rigorously observe Ayshe, one of our hosts, making tea in a special teapot called çaydanlik. It was our time to rest, relax and stuff ourselves with fried eggplant, something I’d never eaten before, and baklava and kadaif, sweet pastries that are part of Bosnian cuisine as well. We learned from them to think of ourselves, to take 10 minutes off from your schedule to have some tea and turn it into a half an hour of chitchat. It is the people who turn places on maps into living, breathing cities. Istanbul, crowded and busy yet beautiful and peaceful. Istanbul, modern world with the taste of the Orient, haggling on the Grand Bazaar and walking past luxury boutiques on Istiklal Street. Istanbul reminiscent of Sarajevo, or is it the other way around. We waved Istanbul goodbye as we headed for Armutlu and Fistikli, tourist destinations on the Sea of Marmara. June’s sunny weather and sandy beaches were a perfect combination for swimming and lounging. Light summer food and the inevitable Turkish tea, I realised I came to like its distinctive bitter taste. A town and a village named after food (armut – pear, fistik – pistachio), truly the places for me. I’d tried to find a town named after chocolate, a paradise I imagined, unfortunately I wasn’t that lucky. Maybe in a different part of the world, for now I'm perfectly happy eating fresh fruit I bought from a stand, sitting on a rock next to the sea and watching people pass by; breathing the same air as me, do they see what I see?