back to basics

The travel bug hit me from a ripe early age. It was instigated when my folks took the family to visit Malta our ‘Mother Island’ with a fleeting stopover in Roma. So years later, when my partner at the time Peter, who had a Bosnian background mentioned he was going back to visit the family who he hadn’t seen in years, I was invited to come along. I was excited to travel but frankly, thought that after all the years of dreaming about travel, the destination could have been more exciting. I had no expectations – especially when I was forewarned to have none!

As I arrived in Sarajevo, the remnants of Communism and war were still highly noticeable. It was surreal and a touch unnerving. I had never been exposed to buildings with a multitude of bullet holes embedded in its facade. As we reached the city centre, these wartime vibes were immediately replaced with an amazing cosmopolitan feel. Sarajevo had all the markings of a bustling city minus the pretentiousness.

We soon visited the old town part of Sarajevo, called Bašèaršija. It was magical. It was a cultural melting pot, with a heavy Turkish influence. This part of town is infamous for selling Cevapi, which are a local specialty. They are mini sausages that are sizzled on the grill, often eaten with a side of onions and homemade; melt in your mouth bread. We scrambled around the maze of little streets to find the restaurant that had been recommended. That was the first and most memorable meal I had enjoyed in the country.

Our next stop was Peter’s hometown – Zenica. The drive there was interesting - visually I was amazed at the hills and the mountains, but the sight of many decrepit buildings was still a hard sight to absorb. Whilst waiting at a set of lights, I was alarmed seeing a young girl (who was no more than three years old) came to each car stationed at the lights begging for money. It was obvious that the locals were so accustomed to gypsies over here and were somewhat desensitised to their presence.

Although it is termed the industrial capital of the country, Zenica is a green and simple town. My room overlooked an overgrown garden. I would hear the rooster crow at dawn each morning. I had the most peaceful nights sleep whilst in Zenica. There was something soothing about the place.

It was as if the town taught me how to go back to basics – basking outside in the beautiful garden, sipping on the strong brewed Turkish coffee, eating the freshly picked cherries off the tree or devouring the plethora of homemade cakes on display. Simplicity was key.

This was not the thriving European destination that I had always dreamt of visiting – the places I visited showed me so much more. It showed me a destination filled with character. A place still healing the wounds of a not too distant war contrasted with a raw authenticity.