#Split
After the long trip and party at night in Split (Train to Croatia) I woke up early, finished my sketch and felt overwhelmingly disappointed and tired. It has been the 5th day of of my travell and all what I was looking for, was yet about to discover. Definitelly, it has not to be found in Split (Although I found there a crew of the Games of Thrones who had been shooting for the 5th season of the series).
Admittedly, Split stole my heart at the magical 3 at night. In case you decided to walk empty streets accompanied only by the light of the moon, you will meet the spirit of this town. Nonetheless, after romantic tryst with Split at night, don't be suprised when he (Split is male in Croatian) will break up your heart at the morning; he will trample your romantic feelings by the thousend feets of tourists and service workers. My love to Split hides deep behind the noise of tour guides who speak in all languages of this wolrd towards (even noisier) tourists; my admiration to Split is hurt by throng of people who walk the romanic cobblestones every day; it is somewhere between the price labels for strangers and for locals and underneath the skin of the people of Split with two faces - the kind one to their folks and the english-speaking calculated one for their breadwinners (Russian, Poles, Americans and whatsoever).
Ok. Maybe this opinion resulted from the lack of sleep. Indeed I would love to come there and sketch for couple of days - properly.
I wish to have met Croatians from Split whose company would not be a burden;who would like to share with me their culture, their shades and lights. Unfortunatelly, I met only those who wanted to look deeper into my purse. Disappointment was unavoided. What this trip shall bring next?
Before I get into the bus, I sat to draw another picture that day. On the way I have met group of Polish tourists who all were desperate to touch a huge toe of enourmous sculpture of Gregory of Nin. They used the occassion to take thousend of photos. Obviously. I escaped and found a piece of quite in front of Zlata Vrata (porta aurea, golden gate).
I quickly sketched the back entrance to the Dioclecian's palace and rushed for my bus. Indeed, I liked the architecture, but I deliberately erased from my outlook people. I wished to leave the music that was peaceafully flowing from the inside. (Colours has been added later on).
# Sarajevo
The bus should leave at 2 a.m. It did not. Welcome in Balkans.
I asked for something a guy who waited next to me at the bus station.He was actually the only person there apart from a lady who kept showing the card "Sobe. Rooms" to all passer-bys. The much better choice from two of them. Soon there popped up also some locals going to Sarajevo. Only two backpackers were there - me and him. Indeed, I needed rather kindness of some other homo viator than an exact topic of conversation. With his slightly French accent, he explained me a bit his journey while we're waiting another hour for a bus, that was annoyingly staying just in front of us.
The bus driver sat in the bus, but somehow his motivation to leave did not support his punctuality. Doors were closed. Meanwhile, I was cheered up by the fact of winning a company of another single-traveller with a quite similar reserve to touristic crowds. Topics such as age and daily routines apart from travel were not really interesting. Instead we shared our enthusiasm walking at 2-3 a.m. around the old market of Split or simply about going to Bosnia!
Later on, he did not hesitate to draw my attention to the breathtaking views from behind the bus window (delightful), commenting on the poor equipment of the local shop, laughing just as me at the cows on the street or ultimately waking me up with a great smile "we are finally in Sarajevo".
Although I don't mind travelling alone, at that moment I felt that a travel companion that shares my excitement about the trip, was exactly what I needed. Perspective of coming to Sarajevo started to become more bright, althouth the darkness of the sky at night there, out of the city, was difficult to comprehend. For some hours we felt like kidnapped tourists in the middle of the dark jungle. So different from the light noice of the other european cities.
Later on, he did not hesitate to draw my attention to the breathtaking views from behind the bus window (delightful), commenting on the poor equipment of the local shop, laughing just as me at the cows on the street or ultimately waking me up with a great smile "we are finally in Sarajevo".
Although I don't mind travelling alone, at that moment I felt that a travel companion that shares my excitement about the trip, was exactly what I needed. Perspective of coming to Sarajevo started to become more bright, althouth the darkness of the sky at night there, out of the city, was difficult to comprehend. For some hours we felt like kidnapped tourists in the middle of the dark jungle. So different from the light noice of the other european cities.
So many people asked my later how long does it take to get from Split to Sarajevo.
Answer: it depends. It is Balkans. Expect everything. My bus leaves at 2 p.m. in schedule but left after 3.p.m. It supposed to be after 8;00 p.m. but we arrived well after 9:30 p.m. Be prepared for everything what your travellers' soul is looking for: untouched nature, world different from what you know in "western" Europe and laid-back attitude to time. Everything is negotiable, even the bus schedule. Be prepared for bus driver stopping to let the cows cross the (national) road. It is Bosnia, it is Balkans. Here the world works a bit different.
- Idris. Nice to meet you. At that moment, I felt that some good French Pierre or Leo would be so much easier to remember. It took me about three ashamed attempts to remember this name.
Although I have planned to stay at some Couchsurfers in Sarajevo, it did not happen. It was high time to make use of my notebook with "emergency" hostels' list prepared earlier. Idris compared it of course with his (Lonely Planet?) guide book. He was well prepared. Guidebook for Croatia, one for Montenegro and Kosovo, one for Bosnia.... So heavy. I thought. In comparison to my small-size sketchbook and one thin book to read on the road, he possesed the whole library. We went for the first of my 3-position-long hostel list, because it seemed to be... cheaper than lonely planet choice.
At the train station Idris hoped to find a street map to check where to go.
It was pitch dark and I hoped to find someone who speaks English and tells us where to go.
The latter was quicker.
We passed the US Embassy that was secured by armed body guards. We greeted them with "Dober vecer", they answered kindly. We followed the tram lines. The moon was so impressivly big. After 8 hours of travelling together, I guess, we had evolved kind of silent understanding that one does not bother the other, that silence was cool too and finally that we accepted the fact of looking for a hostel together. One of the last peaceful moments in Sarajevo.
I'm not good with maps (I travel without good one), but I'm good with asking people for the way. We didn't know how many tram stations we need or even whether we are going in the right direction! Before we asked, the answer almost bumbed against me in the tram! The answer's name was Nelvino!
As soon as I crossed the doorstep, I almost fell over a tall backpacker with some lazy London accent - watch out lady Here you have - another man with a very difficult name. Nelvino is a traveller from Portugal (Cape Verde). I couldn't resist talking to him just about anything only to fulfill my curiousity - he must be from London!?
We figured out that we head for the same hostel. Most importantly - Nelvino's friend (whose name was completely incomprehensable for me at that moment) knew how to get to the hostel! Quite on contrary to both - me and Idris.
 |
| Cevapi at the Pingvin, the longest opened fast food store in Sarajevo (that recommendation I overheard couple of times). The biggest sandwiches I have ever seen. Almost no vegetable inside and each of the guys took two of them! Well, nothing vegan there though. |
Afterwhile they all switched to French, because they all lived in Paris.
At least, I did not have to talk much. It was simply more enjoyable to be accompanied by thosee three handsome Parisians who were obviously pleased to bring me safely to the hostel. Admittedly, I love when I do not have to care where to go and when I can simply cherish the beautiful and dark Bosnian night (the obvious reason why I am getting lost so often everywhere!). These kind of small pleasures are not the once that a single-travelling women easily gets.
It is how you meet people on your way. These three gentelments made out of my stay in Sarajevo quite an experience that I will have brought alive in my mind so many times later.
Idris, Nelvino and last but not least Johan - Merci beaucoup, muito obrigada, muchas gracias!
(let us not forget - Rain was also with us!
Sometimes).
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