Day 6. First impressions from Sarajevo

So we walked all the way to the top of Sarajevo.

Since I travelled to Sarajevo in September, almost everything changed in my life. A pleasant nostalgic mood brings me the picture above that was taken by a traveller that I have met accidentally in Sarajevo. From the perspective of last two months, I am very happy I missed my train and stepped that road over there in the middle of Bosnia and Herzegovina.

Sarajevo left me astonished and delighted. Ultimately I felt like in an oasis in the middle of a desert that give you a shelter. No only had I chance to get some undisturbed rest after preceeding rainy days, after hours in trains and bus, but also I have simply fallen in love.

How surprising it is for a fresh visitor of Bosnia like me to notice, that this world differs entirely from the urban life I was used to. The first impressions may be delusive, but I see the changes in that city more as its aspirations to the "western-lifestyle" with all those pitiful signs of globalisation (to name just the numerous mcdonalds or subways as an example ) that usually tourists love. The tourists here are, however, different too and they often find what they are looking for. Authenticity. Thankfully, the Bosnian culture is there and I really hope it will stay with all its charm, the wry sense of humour and passionate nature.

Do not be deluded by the lively streets of the city centre that are crammed with well-known names of fashion stores, plenty of small rug shops and vendors selling silver, cupper and gold traditional lamps and dishes with all the trimmings. There - everyone speaks English fluently (probably because of the UN soldiers that stationated there just during the civil war in 1992-1996 or - according to the little boy we met on the street - because they have simply learnt it at school). Although you find yourself in the middle of the city that pretends to be one of the european capitals, just like in some other sourrounding countries, the picture of it is much more complex.

As we went for a scroll, I could not resist the feeling that time in the capital of Bosnia flows quite uniquely. As if this discreet ambiente of the city centre ticked according to an invisible clock  - the clock that is set by the monotone singing that comes out from the top of minarets every hour.

 

May we have chosen simply this part of the city? Sarajevo is still invisibly divided between mostly Muslim Bosniaks, catholic Bosnian Croats and orthodox Bosnian Serbs that still tend to live in a groups of their alike.

While we were about to climb up the hill and walk through the muslim cementary, the melodic vocals of mullas from all mosques around started to glide softly over the valley of Sarajevo. Although the last word I would use to describe myself is religious, I shivered. This was a call for praying for about one third of the city, for the others it may be just a symbol of multicultural and mulireligious coexistence with their neighbours that was brutally broken by the war and is still being rebuilt for the last almost ten years since the war ended.

what you find when  lost with two travellers

With Idris and Nelvino we were not sure where to start. We started from looking for the wider perspective, accompanied by the peaceful singing from the top of the minarets. Johan decided to stay at the hostel - such nice views he missed!

In Sarajevo I got an impression that there are no ordinary people who choose this destination for their holiday. Whoever I met, they were people with stories to tell. So was with two of my companions at that day. I have met Idris in Croatia and we travelled together to Sarajevo. His strategy of travelling kept bringing a smile on my face. That young ex-fashion designer took his time for relaxing and cherishing the moments - nonetheless, his way was carefuly carved, as if this had some transcendet meaning. His curiousity about everything what is local, typical, very cheap, everything but not commercial or related to history never stopped to amaze me - probably that was the reason we got on well from the very beginning.

With Nelvino it was not difficult either. In his easy-going way and with such an honest smile, he manages to charm whoever he talks with. This Portugues blogger and journalist, from Cape Verde, (his blog here) travels, writes and certainly shoots movies from his trips. Personally, exactly these short stories from his trips is this, what attracts me in his ideas at most. This man can make a story out of nothing! What's a pitty, I did not know that, when him and Idris kept making stops at every possible place to take thousands of pictures (that I hope to see one day). Maybe then I would have encouraged him much more to record things instead of shooting pictures only.

Particularly that, there was a story to tell.Next to the cementary we found not only a beautiful views, but also abandoned car that shall scare potential enemies and disappeared from there just couple of hours later. At the top of the hill, I was really thrilled. At the edge of the city, there are waiting homeless dogs (looking very sick, imagine they have bittenus!) , potentially unrevealed mines, old grandpas and grandmas staring at every strange passer by .

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 A sketch of that day?

well... I was too absorbed with sightseeing to sketch!

I took my time afternoon and sat in one cafes at the afternoon. Guys accompanied me for a coffee and cigarette and went away. Nonetheless it was not easy to sketch. Frequent raining and sun made a bad companion. In the end I found a shelter under an umbrella when a older man approached me in German - I found it strange already in a city where everyone speaks English when I had nothing won me hat could make me looking German-like in any way. He asked politely whether he may have a look at my sketches. I showed him my notebook explaining my story of travelling and introducing my sketchbook as my best companion. In exchange he told me his story. He was an architect and he lives in Germany too. For many years. It took us a couple of minutes to realise that we were a quite similar - almost neighbours from Nordrhein-Westfalen, two foreigners with Slavic origin who find their pleasure in the expression of lines.

 

A peaceful intimacy of people of the same profession I felt with that man. Such a new feeling that warms my heart whenever I meet another sketcher (yes, I support with a good word anyone who shares my hobby :) )

What divided us was about 30 years of age difference and war experience that I never had. He wanted to come back to Bosnia after war but it  never happened real. He comes only for longer visits - a month or two, to spend time with his family in once his own city... this nostalgia was very visible in his voice. He wished me best and politely said goodbye , explaining modestly that his wife is awaiting him. Charming person.

I wish to come back there in summer and sketch again. Peacefully and lightly, with no black.

to be continue...


Ps. If you were curious about Nelvino's impressions from Sarajevo - here's promotion time for a fried: check out his blog here (18+ and hereby I wish to confirm, I have nothing to do with his cover pictures >__<).

 

November means #home, #autumn and #Poland.

Happy Independence Day! Although half of Poland is celebrating today getting independence that we got after 123 year in 1918, the rest simply enjoy day off and cherish the beautiful "Polish Golden Autumn" that traditionally got a range of another season here. After couple of months of travelling here and there, I cherish it too in my family home in Łanięta.

This part of the year is one of my favourite (apart from spring) for visiting my parents. The park behind my house is full of colours and enchants everyone with its beauty.
Isn't this peaceful area just brilliant for sketching?

This time  in size a bit bigger than A4. This needs time.
 
And I had the whole long weekend. Nonetheless, I started in a rather lazy way and took my time. . Last couple of weeks were pretty eventful in my life and I really dreamt about some boring state of doing nothing, if you happen to know what I mean.
 

 

 

Outdoor sketch is already challenging in autumn. After 2h of sketching without gloves,
 the green tea is everything what you dream about!

 

 

 

 

Already in Slovenja, in September, I was quite frustrated about my inability to reflect the texture of trees. Although, in my opinion, these attempts from above are still not perfect, they are way better than those from September in Ljubljana (click).

 

Since that first try, drawing trees became my small idee fix that I constantly struggle with and hope that one day I will reach perfection. Nothing else than a tree gives you such a variety of possible textures, lines and shadows! Not to forget, there is no tree that looks the same.

 

 





Sometimes I feel like a little girl in a candy shop.

This happened when I got my first real aquarelle (water colour) set last week in Gdańsk. In the store, a nice lady recommended me a Russian brand called Ленинград (Leningrad) with a very good quality pigment.You can get those as a set or buy just some cubics of colour (what I should have done. For autumn colours, you need maybe 5-6 colours in total!).

However, as a watercolour beginner, I was more than excited to try those out. A night walk through the attic helped me to find a old drawer full of my child's sketches and old painting brushes, that lost on their quality over years of waiting for my inspirations. Not discouraged by that, I burnt the midnight oil and have tried different shades of green, yellow and umbra on my ink sketch.

Just like a girl with a candy.

What is this castle?

Zameczek w Łaniętach

During my 15 years of living in the village called Łanięta (read: wha-nyee-ta) - nearby Kutno - I had always a reminiscence of that castle being a ruined place to play. No doors, no windows, destroyed entrances and brick visible from behind the shabby walls. I was forbidden to go there. Some drinking local post-communistic icons used to hide their addiction in the bottles of cheap wine and in the bushes next to that Little Castle (Zameczek) .

A boy from my neighbourhood told me once a story about dragon that lived there in the dungeon, just under the part of the Little Castle that is clearly visible on my picture on the left. I was maybe six, he might have been eight and, admittedly, he wanted to impress me. Instead, I was scared of the dragons even more.

When I got older the "Lttle castle" became a shelter for juvenile romantic lovers who looked for secret place to steal girls some kisses after school or hide a bottle of  their first beers. Of course, at that moment I was also forbidden to go there. In the end, the teachers got to know about the secret tryst place and punished a group of boys and girls from my class for doing truancy over there. A good girl like me should not go there, although the Little Castle is still clearly visible from my room's window and stayed here like a forbidden fruit, surrounded by a wild forest.

 

Now, the castle is made prettier, and there is no forest. After its service as a shop, it became a local culture centre that offers space for children and youngsters after school who would rather do some workshops than kissing over there. They publish there a small local newspaper and organise some bigger events like the one after harvest in the middle of the park. Thanks to EU fonds, the historical park has been renovated, planted with new trees, equipped with park paths and benches. The charm and magic of a wild bushes and castle with a sleeping dragon under earth disappeared. Instead, we got a yellowish public building with a wizardry architecture that still want to resemble some fairy tales.

The table next to it tells the story about the Little "romantic" Castle that was built probably in the middle of 19th century as a part of the whole complex of palace and park with plenty of very old trees that we call now "monuments of nature". They witnessed the story of political changes throughout the centuries.

Nonetheless, I choose to think that somewhere, in that earthed dungeon, lies a corpus of one of the last dragons that used to hide its presence there -  from the world. Maybe it is not there any more. Maybe it has moved to the old bunker that, as the legend says, covers the secret path to the church. In the end little do we know about dragon's habits... :-).


Enjoy the beautiful day of having peace back!  

Day.5. Long way to #Sarajevo

Travelling is not about places, it is about the people who you meet on your way.

#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.

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).