European Hopscotch Mission

How does one describe my aunt Jolanda in a way that does not make her seem completely insane or awful but still gets across the loopiness that she embodies? To be completely honest, she is nuts, but she is incredibly intelligent and has become quite kind and funny in her old age, but never forget, completely nuts. I guess I will start by saying that when we went to the village of Zaglav, on the island Dugi Otok, to visit my aunt she was unbelievably welcoming. She took us inside, sat us down to eat a feast of juice, prosciutto, cheese and bread (served on a frisbee she found during one of her many 20 - 40 km walks around the island). This might not sound extravagant but for those who know Jolly Jole, it actually is. She has not always been such a wonderful host. I have never been on the receiving end of her nuttiness but everyone else in the family have. They will tell you about times when she woke them up in the middle of the night to show them a black widow spider in a jar with a grasshopper (they were very young children at the time), when she called the police because my uncle was stealing olives from his olive trees (please note it is beyond me how she even found police in such a small village), how she refused to provide water for one cousin and his friends when they backpacked around the island and threatened to put snakes in their tents if they dared to set up near the house or when she sent the girls away, calling them whores, so she could have her peace and quiet... It is possible that I was on the receiving end my first trip back in 2003, I had no idea what she was saying apart from her frequent comments about my Cuka teeth, I just kept smiling and nodding, I do know that the welcome we received on my second trip was much warmer regardless of what was said! Even without other people to target, she has made some interesting choices. At one stage of her life, she wore just one dress. Her sisters bought her other clothes but she refused them, claiming that she only needed one. Who needs more than one when you can cut the sleeves off in summer and sew them back on in winter? She is actually remarkably environmentally friendly in the way she lives. She is in the old family home, the place where my father was born in fact. I don't think she has water or electricity, she gets her water from the well and uses candles to light the rooms. I think she has a gas bottle for cooking and heating up water but that is it. Her rubbish is collected in a small pile until there is enough to justify burning it and I doubt she uses any nasty chemicals to clean with. She seems to be happy with her simple life. At first I thought she was just being stubborn and crazy (typical Cuka traits), but she does seem to be quite content. I worry about her living like that in winter when it is cold and she has no heating, I worry about her walking for hours on end in the heat of the summer but then I think, she will probably out live the lot of us.

Jole has become something of a celebrity on the island as she walks from one end to another, listening to her small transistor radio, which has an olive branch as an antenna. She had become so famous she was even interviewed on a Croatian television show called More after they heard about her wanderings. I have not seen the program myself but I have heard how she described the way walking makes her heart beat strong, and then, when she sees a snake, it beats even faster, making her feel more alive. You can imagine what happens when she sees an even bigger snake, her heart beats so fast and so strong that it will make her live forever. One of my uncles was mortified when he saw the program, he was so worried about what the villagers would think, "how could she embarrass herself and the family like that" he cried. The rest thought it was fantastic and were quietly proud of her. You see, some people think the Jole is stupid, but she is far from stupid. She has a wealth of knowledge, excellent reasoning skills and an ability to take the piss out of everyone, including herself. In fact, I probably shouldn't even call her crazy, because I am convinced she is acutely aware of how insane she seems, which clearly makes her complete sane. Bollocks to the villagers I say, most of them are too caught up in their small town mentality, gossiping and backstabbing, to really know what is going on in the world around them. I think someone that uses the phrase Jebati ne boga (possibly the wrong translation but it basically means fuck everything but not god) in place of um has to be admired. You really need to meet her or her family to truly grasp the, um, perhaps, well rounded is the right term, person she is, I cannot do her justice here, but I hope to give you a little glimpse into why my family is the way it is, and maybe even convince some of you, that I am one of the normal ones!

On our visit to the island, we visited the old house, where Jole showed me the room my father was born, the game him and his brothers had etched into the concrete and even the original beds from when they were all young. I love seeing all that sort of thing and hearing stories about when my old man was a little boy. It is incredible that so much from then has been preserved in the little time capsule that is now her home. Afterwards we went to the cemetery where my relatives now rest. That was so sad because my uncle, Anica's father only passed away two years ago even though he was one of the youngest siblings. I was pretty lost for words, what can you say? It was yet another reminder that life can be short and completely unfair. Fortunately, I did get the chance to meet him once, back in 2001 when his ship was in Melbourne, and what an amazing man he was. He had a great sense of adventure, was witty and intelligent, and always told it as it was, even if that meant truly insulting someone! He was always so proud of his three daughters and if he can see them now I bet he is even prouder (particularly given they have taken after him and don't hold back when it comes to saying what is on their mind, I love them for that too!) We walked around to see the land that remains in the family and I tried to process the whole story about the other relatives who have been making life difficult in that department (not from our family, but related back up the line). In the end, their bullshit reasoning just gave me a headache so I went back to enjoying seeing the school where my relo's attended, taking photos of the donkey in the field, doing the Cuka pose and taking in the amazing views and scenery.

A perfect and insightful day was finished up with a swim in the crystal clear, though icy cold, sea, some lying around in the sun, posing for more shots for the Cuka pose album and some beer before jumping back on the boat to return to Zadar. There is so much more I could add about Zaglav and Dugi Otok but anyone who is interested can google it (or convince my cousin to turn her thesis about it into a book so we can all read it!) In my opinion it is one of the most beautiful islands with it's rugged cliffs, tiny villages made of stone and views out to the other islands, but I really am biassed in this case! This is probably where I should leave my blog as once I left Zadar I only went to Zagreb and then back to Vienna for my flight. Zagreb was a ball, although I did very little in the tourist department. I basically said to my cousin, I want to do whatever it is that Jopa would do on a Saturday night in Zagreb, so, we drank, ate, walked, and drank some more with her firends. We had years of gossip to catch up on and that we did, until the sun came up and I realised I had a 6 hour bus trip ahead of me so we decided we better head to bed! The bus trip to Vienna was torture of course with a hangover, and it was full so I couldn't stretch out but it passed and I managed to get a bed at the hostel I originally stayed at. They even remembered me and gave me a stack of free drink vouchers (which I gave to a fellow traveller that was on a super tight budget). Anyway who has me on facebook knows that the flight home was long and painful, but not as painful as arriving to a top of 8 degrees and the reality check that my holiday is over, I am back at work on Saturday and there is no trip in the forseeable future.... Sigh.... Thankfully there are plenty of memories in the vault that I can look back on in times of need and a couple thousand photos to jog my memory when it fails.

What can I say about Zadar? It has definitely been my holiday from my holiday. After being on the move so much for a month it was so nice to plonk my bag down, not worry about unpacking and repacking and have a room to myself (though I don't think Lucijan, Anica´s son, was too impressed giving up his bed to some strange relative who does not even speak Croatian!) I really love this place, it is beautiful in its own right with plenty to offer a traveller but it is also the place that I grew up hearing so many stories about. It is the place my father missed for 50 years while living in Australia unable to return under the communist regime. When he was finally able to return, once the war ended, I was a teenager and, as a sole parent, it was almost impossible for him to raise the money to return. I was here in 2003 with him, it was his first trip back and my first trip here altogether. I will never forget the emotions that passed his face when we got off the plane, went through immigration and the official looked at his passport then at him and said "welcome home". My father is not an emotional man generally, but his homecoming brought it out. The other moment I will never forget, and can still see clearly even today, was when we took the boat across to Zaglav, his home village on Dugi Otok. As the ferry pulled in to shore he turned into a little boy, unable to hide his excitement, it was a side of him I had not seen before and have not seen since. It is memories like this that made my arrival in Zadar bittersweet. On the one hand I was so thrilled to be here, overwhelmed seeing my family again but unbelievably sad knowing that my father could not be with me and will never again return. I had experienced similar emotions when I first entered Croatia in transit, from Budapest to Sarajevo, but coming in to Zadar was much more difficult.

Blood really is thicker than water, and there are some things that pass through the generations regardless of where in the world they are. I was again amazed by the similarities among my cousins and I, and then there are things that are shared by all of us, in particular, the Čuka pose. The Čuka pose is simply standing with hands on hips, but it is quite distinctive, for those related to me on the Čuka side (and this includes you Grzunovs) you know the pose I am talking about. The back of the hands rest on the hips, the chin is raised a little bit, and in the case of one particular relative, there is a shoulder twitch to go with it. All of us, and I really do mean all of us, do this without even realising it. I am sure I have been doing it for years, but here, I have become much more aware of it! We have been joking that we will turn the pose into an interpretive dance routine wqith a few other moves including the finger pointing and fist shaking, accompanied with a new type of music that combines heavy metal with accordion sounds in the backgroud, my cousin Mate has already dubbed it "Dallycore". The other thing about my family is that when they are talking it always sounds as though they are arguing, even when they are simply commenting on the weather, add to the mix that they are all highly intelligent, a tad (or a lot) crazy and think they are always right. Back home I have been teased with the name Cukoo as it sounds like the English pronunciation of my family name, here there is a similar word that sounds like our name and has the same crazy implications - čuknut - coincidence... I think not! Do not get me wrong, I use the term crazy as a term of endearment, normal is overrated, I love my family and in particular, I love their passion and loopy side.

I suppose I should write something about the actual city, not just about my nutty family! Zadar is a stunning city of 70 odd thousand people, on the coast with the old town on the peninsula. Like I said in a previous post, many places here have that clear turqouise water, the thousand year old churches, red rooftops and old walls, Zadar is one such place. It is also home to my favourite church in all of Europe, Sveti Donat, dating back to the 9th century (I can say that with much more credibility now that I have seen quite a few). I went up to the tower of the church and it has beautiful views of the entire city virtually. One of the more recent additions to the city is the sea organ which plays music from the waves going through a number of pipes underneath marble steps down the end of the peninsula. The sound is so soothing and I have spent quite a lot of time sitting there just listening to the harmonies. Close to that is Salutation to the Sun, an intallation near the sea organ that uses sunlight from the day to light up at night. The design is basically the solar system and apparently all the planets and the sun are in proportion size wise and according to distance. Pluto was in the original design but when my uncle commented that Pluto was no longer considered a planet and passed the information on to the architects it was subsequently removed (see, my family has their fingers in everything!)

I haven't really done anything extraordinary here apart from hanging out with family, going for a swim most evenings, strolling around town, drinking beer. It has been fantastic though! One of my cousins and I caught up, supposedly for a couple of drinks and a bite to eat. Typical of such nights, we ended up at the bar with his friends til it closed then continued on at the local park with them singing Croatian songs for me and teaching me all the brilliantly colourful swear words. Croatian is a remarkable language when it comes to cursing, though I probably should not include any here for the sake of keeping it relatively clean! One example was some grafitti on the wall next to the bar we were at, it translated to "if i had two diseases I would not even give you one" I think we ended up getting in about 4 am, I should have known it would be a late night, the last time we met, 8 years ago, we were out until the sun came up too! Fortunately I managed to get inside without waking everyone up (or maybe they were just being polite and didn't tell me) and was up and at them early the next day. Somthing about European beer, it doesn't give you the same hangovers you get back home (unless you are drinking it with my other cousin in Zagreb, and then the sheer amount means a hangover is unavoidable).

Although perhaps not the most exciting part of the journey in terms of sightseeing etc, Zadar was up there with the best travel experiences for me. Just seeing my aunts and my cousins after so long was priceless. I love that years can pass and yet when I saw them it was like no time had passed at all and there was no need to go through the irrelevant small talk before getting stuck into lively debates and laughing about our loopy family (all of us claim to be the most normal of the bunch, but I am sure it is just degrees of madness!) I really must learn to speak Croatian, although I was able to communicate with most people, it would have been much more satisfying if I had been able to communicate with everyone. For friends and family reading this, stay on my back about it, I have found a couple of tutors that I will contact soon and then I encourage everyone to nag me constantly so I keep learning to shut them up about it! I was bummed that I did not get to see two of my cousins while there. One was in Zagreb until the day I left and the other one I attempted to visit but failed thanks to a slight transport glitch. I was due to catch the boat from Zadar to Pula on the Friday, get picked up and taken back to Rovinj for an overnight stay and catch up but after sitting on the boat in the port for 45 minutes I found out the boat was broken and therefore cancelled. They could not tell me when it would leave, whether later that night or the next day so I had to abandon the plan and just be thankful it broke down before leaving rather than halfway up the coast! I was really sad though about not seeing Maja, who knows when I will next get the chance, but fingers crossed it wont be in another 8 years! I felt sorry for poor Lucijan who was rather excited to be getting his bed back only to discover the annoying foreign woman had not really left, not to mention Anica had already changed the sheets! Actually, Lucijan almost deserves a blog post to himself for his amazing intelligence, wit and reasoning skills. He is not even 6 years old but is so clever and comes out with the most hilarious statements, sadly my jetlagged brain can't remember any of his pearls of wisdom right now but when I do I will update the post! In fact, I am sure I have missed a lot from this one so will revisit it when I have recovered.

Dubrovnik is a beautiful place but I am not convinced it is the most beautiful place on earth. Yes there is that amazing crystal clear water, the tall walls that enclose the old city and the picturesque red roofs on the little stone houses, but these features are not unique to Dubrovnik. Much of coastal Croatia and Montenegro looks like this. Perhaps Dubrovnik had just been too hyped up for me and was therefore a bit of a letdown, like most things, when your expectations are high it is easy to be disappointed. That is not to say I did not like Dubrovnik, I really did, I was just not sure what all the fuss was about. On my way to Kotor we passed Dubrovnik, and looking down on the peninsula from the bus I could see that postcard perfect perspective that everyone knows, I was looking forward to getting up close and personal with it. When I finally arrived a few days later I was indeed mobbed at the bus station by people trying to convince me to stay in their apartment or rooms (I had been warned about this). I ended up choosing a little old man that looked so much like my father and even spoke in a similar way. He was telling me about his place, Begovic Guest House, and how it was in the Lonely Planet but I just said there was no need to convince me, I was sold just by the fact he reminded me of my old man. It turned out to be a good choice. The hostel was in Lapad, twenty minute walk to the bus station, twenty minutes to the old town and five minutes to the beach. I was even spoiled only having to share a bathroom with two other people (no need to worry about stupid Brazilian girls hogging the bathroom for 35 minutes in the morning when the other 7 of us had to check out grrrrrr)

Dubrovnik was the first place I really had to worry about food. Everywhere else has been so cheap and breakfast normally included in the price of the hostel so there was little point in bothering to cook. If anything I had just bought fruit and snacks along the way, but in Dubrovnik everything was unbelievably expensive (perhaps not by Western European standards but certainly more expensive than Eastern Europe and even more than Australia). To get a small beer at the gorgeous little bar just outside the walls was 35 kuna, and yes I know you pay for the view but seriously, that is almost $7. Prices and crowds aside, I enjoyed my time there. Walked around the city walls, climbed up and down the dozens of staircases branching off from the old town, spoke with old men in a barber shop about their budgerigars and slid around on the paved ground. I found a bar with some Finnish travellers that uses all recycled objects for the furniture, for example, the couches were made out of bath tubs and the tables out of washing machine drums, was a very funky little place and it has inspired me to see out an old bathtub to make a couch for my room back home!

One of the highlights was the War Photo Limited exhibition where there are a range of photographic exhibitions from various war and conflict zones around the world. Their aim, in their words, is "to educate the public in the field of war photography, to expose the myth of war and the intoxication of war, to let people see war as it is, raw, venal, frightening, by focusing on how war inflicts injustices on innocents and combatants alike". They had three exhibitions while I was there, Eric Bouvet´s Somewhere over Grozny with photos taken from Chechnya, Natan Dvir´s Eighteen with portraits and short biographies of 18 year old Arab men and women living in Israel and the permanent exhibition about the war in former Jugoslavia. All three were incredibly moving provoked the full range of emotions in me from anger, horror, sadness and joy. I am a huge fan of photographic exhibitions anyhow and so when combined with my love of 20th century history, my inner geek truly rejoiced. For anyone in Dubrovnik, I would say, do not miss this place, even if you are on a tight budget, just skip dinner and go there instead, worth every cent.

I am sure there were other great things about Dubrovnik but I have taken too long to write about it so nothing springs to my mind. I only stayed a couple of days before moving on to Zadar where I am now. I arrived last Friday after an 8 hour bus ride that was made much less painful after meeting some intelligent Brits to talk shit with most of the way. It has been a holiday from my holiday here! My cousin has been the most incredible host and has made me feel so at home with her family. She will probably kill me for saying this but, when we saw each other at the bus station we both got teary, and then embarrassed because neither of us like to cry in public. But who cares, it was a reunion after 8 years of not seeing each other, I figure that is reason enough to get emotional! I am so relaxed here, and really enjoying not feeling rushed to see all the sights. Just been spending time with family, wandering around the town, swimming in the sea each evening and hearing stories about my crazy aunt from Zaglav (she will most likely have a blog entry all to herself, she is truly a character and actually now famous after being featured on a documentary show here!) But that is for another day... now it is time to go have lunch with some more relatives!

The trip from Mostar to Kotor took 6 hours despite looking like such a small distance on the map. Part of the problem was the roads were pretty much either mountainous or following the coastline so it was not so direct, the other issue was the number of border crossings. From Bosnia and Hercegovina you enter into Croatia, but then you go back into BiH for a short stretch, back into Croatia and finally into Montenegro. All of that meant stopping every time we left a country, then again when we entered a country. Although I had been pretty excited about the borders on my train trip from Budapest to Sarajevo, the novelty had worn off by the fifth passport check on the bus, plus they didn't give me many stamps!. It was not made much better when we were sitting in the bus with no air conditioning, for 40 minutes not allowed off. What can you do though, suck it up and realise that there are worse things in the world (unless you are a stupid Australian guy who decides it is appropriate to argue with border officials, idiot, who does that?!) Like most of my journeys this was another spectacular ride. Instead of driving past mountains that rose out of the river, this time it was mountains emerging straight from the sea.

I almost skipped Kotor because it was such a long way and I was pretty tired but, like all journeys that take a bit longer, it was worth the trip. The old town is a maze of shiny paved streets, stone buildings with little green wooden shutters on the windows and churches scattered throughout. The most striking feature of the town is without a doubt the walls that snake up the mountain behind it leading to a small fortress. Sitting in the common room of my hostel, Montenegro Hostel, you could look out onto the walls and fortress, another view that would take a long time to tire of. On my first day I met some more Swedish travellers and we went off to eat and explore the little laneways. We thought about climbing up to the fortress but it was pretty hot by that stage and we were all tired from the bus ride so instead we headed to the shore to admire the enormous cruise ships and fancy yachts and laugh at the tourists (we did acknowledge that backpackers are pretty much snobs in regards to how they view tourists and even make a distinction in the first place). Day two I met some Canadians and Australians and we went off for breakfast then painted our toenails while waiting for the rain to stop. The weather angels smiled upon us again, what had been a cold and dreary morning cleared up into a beautiful sunny day, perfect for climbing up to the fortress that was built between the 9th and 19th centuries. There were almost 2000 steps to get up to the top and it took Team Commonwealth (as we dubbed oruselves) about 45 minutes to climb. We could have gotten up a lot faster but we kept stopping to explore all the little secret corners and to take photos of the views across Boka Kotorska. It was definitely one of those hikes that you need someone to punch and exlaim, "oh my gosh, have a look at that!" Once at the top we sat for a while marvelling at the cruise ship down below that, by then, looked more like a small sailing boat and the stunning views as far as the eye could see. Of course, shortly after our arrival the clouds rolled in and we ventured back to down to prevent being stuck in the rain on a slippery steep path. In spite of our cautious move we still managed to have a few people slip or fall, always just as someone said =be careful, this part is slippery=.

Once back on flat ground we hit the supermarket to buy supplies for a big post climb feast. One of the Aussies offered to make us daal and the rest of us made a salad and put together an antipasto plate. It was fantastic to eat a decent home cooked meal for a change and the drinks that went with were well earned (any excuse really)! We met another group of Canadians and Australians at the hostel (we were obviously taking over in a subversive way) and made plans to head out to the biggest club in the Balkans, Maximus! By the time the girls got ready (straightening their hair and doing their make up) we were just about past it and only ended up going out for a couple drinks. Maximus was closed and the others were going to go drink in a park so we opted for an early night since we all had to be out of the hostel early in the morning to go our separate ways. The most fun I had that night was chatting to the women who worked in the hostel while everyone was getting ready. They were telling me about the guests who made their lives miserable, in particular the guys that thought they were God´s gift to women and made moves on them every opportunity they got. Then we got talking about family and one of the women was like me, raised by her father and had a very close relationship with him. It was one of those conversations where, despite cultural and language barriers, we truly understood one another and could appreciate each others situations. I love how it doesn't seem to matter where you are in the world, what language you speak or what your customs are, at heart we are all pretty much the same in terms of what is important, the things that worry us and the things that make us laugh. I guess when people say the more things change the more they stay the same it can equally be applied across destinations and cultures. It reminds me of that story about the counsellor working with Karen refugees, regardless of the horrific experiences they had had, they still mostly talked to her about their problems in love and with family! Human beings are such funny creatures, we sometimes really do sweat the small stuff, even those who rise well above the big stuff!

The trip to Mostar was spectacular, another journey that shows the truth in the saying, it is as much about the journey as it is the destination! I took the bus from Sarajevo and apparently the train is much nicer, but the views from the bus were incredible. We drove alongside limestone mountains that rose straight up from the most beautiful emerald green water of the Neretva River. I have never seen water like that before, in some parts it was an emerald green and in others it was more like that peacock blue green colour, simply stunning. When I got to Mostar, there was a wonderfully friendly woman from Majda`s hostel waiting to pick me up and take me back to the hostel. Of course I went to get in the drivers side and she laughed at me and said every Australian and English person does that! I`m glad I accepted the lift that they had kindly offered shortly after I booked as it would have been quite difficult to find the place. It was in an apartment in the residential area and there were so many apartment blocks there I would no doubt have gotten lost. Majda`s hostel is quite possibly the best I have ever stayed in. On arrival, Amira served me cake and coffee, the other lady explained the map to me and told me the best places to visit and eat at. I met the others staying in my room, and yet again, discovered that good hostels attract good people. I got to speak to my father on a good skype connection which was so nice, I really miss him, the conversation was cut short though because then I was offered home made soup. He didn't mind, he was just happy that I was in a place where they took such good care of me! I was happy to be in a place where they genuinely care about their guests and make you feel so at home. Was very much needed after being on the road for three and a bit weeks!

The old town in Mostar is gorgeous, little stone buildings line small shiny paved streets looking out over the river and surrounding mountains. Although the mountains were not as green and lush as the trip down, the lime stone cliffs with a smattering of bushes and trees was beautiful in itself. Then of course there is Stari Most, what can I say, it is every bit as elegant as it looks in photos, and then some. I didn't get to see anyone jump off it unfortunately, there was a guy standing up there in his speedos for a long while but I guess he couldn't collect enough money to make it worth it so he hopped down (or maybe he was just an exhibitionist and enjoyed the attention!) On the first night I went to a restaurant called Hindin Han with three Swedish travellers. Majda had recommended it to us so we thought we would try it out. Was definitely worth it, we got a meat plate to share between us and it was piled with cevapi, cutlets, schnitzels, steak, sausages, stuffed chicken breasts, fries and salad (of course it came with the obligatory bread basket, I am blaming the bread for all the weight I have put on, it couldn't possibly be all the amazing food and drink!) It was cooked to perfection and the best meal I have had this trip, there was so much there that we struggled to get through it, best part was it cost us 7 euro each for dinner and drinks! Afterward we headed to The Cave, literally a club in a cave! We joined the rest of the people staying in the hostel for the white party they were holding there. The music was not great but we met some interesting people, even one guy who was born in Australia but speaks virtually no English because he has lived in Mostar for most of his life. We danced and drank until they kicked us out around 5am then headed to bed to rest up for the crazy tour the following day.

I probably cant describe the tour in any way that truly expresses the beauty, the madness or the fun we experienced! Bata, Majdas brother, runs the tour, it started at 11am and finished at 11pm and we were pretty much on the go all day. Our ride was a pimped out Mercedes van complete with disco lights, a disco ball, huge sound system and little ottomans in the back to accommodate the people who wouldn't fin in the seats. Our driver and tour guide was a self confessed mad man that drove just like one assured us we would be hooked on turbo-folk music by the end of the day (he was right, we were singing along and had choreography to go with it!) First we were told stories about the area, particularly about the divisions between the people of Mostar, and what had happened during the war, Mostar was almost completely destroyed and it shows. Our first stop was to see how Burek is made, and eaten, I got the meat one and it was pretty darn tasty by burek standards! After that we went to Kravice waterfalls not far from Mostar, I'm not much into waterfalls but these were impressive and we had a ball swimming around, climbing up into them, crawling through little caves etc. I regret to say but I was one of the chickens who didn't go jumping off the cliff, I wish I had but I am not a strong swimmer at all and am quite scared of water, so just spending a couple hours exploring was enough for my nerves. Bata may have been mad, but he was wise enough to save the beer and rakija until after our swim. Some of our group had never tried it and seeing their screwed up faces was amusing! From the waterfalls we headed out to Medgugorie, the pilgrimage town out of Mostar where some youths apparently saw the Virgin Mary. we dint stop, just drove past the tourists (singing turbo-folk at the top of our lungs and dancing) then we arrived at Pocitelj... Now that was breathtaking, both the fortress and the surrounding villages. We had a great time climbing up walls, looking out from the tower, finding different crevices to crawl in and just oohing and ahhing at the views! What could come next but going to a locals home to drink Bosnian coffee, eat figs, biscuits and cake and wash it down with some syrup tasting! We ended the day in Blagaj but unfortunately by that time it was getting dark and wet, so we didn't stay long, we were all shivering and hungry by that time. But it was an inspiring place with a unique history and role in the region. All in all it was one of the best day tours I have been on, the sights, the group, Bata, it all made for a whirlwind blast.

On my last day I did very little, I explored some more in the old town, visited the War Photo Museum and went over to the sniper tower. The sniper tower was originally a bank, a brand new building in fact that had not even been opened before the war started. Unfortunately, during the war is was used as a sniper tower due to its prime location and height. Now it is just a shell, you can go inside and climb up to the top. I didn't climb right up onto the roof as it was super windy but I did go to the top level. On every floor there is glass strewn everywhere, still even some bullets and graffiti covers the walls. It was just another sad reminder of what had happened not so long ago. One of the differences between Mostar and Sarajevo is the division. Where Sarajevo appeared to be quite united in terms of the people, Mostar was visibly divided. Where people live, where they go to school and where they socialise. That is a real shame given everyone suffered and it is a concern that such divisions are even more deeply ingrained now than before the war. There is a school that is supposedly integrated, but in reality students are taught in different classrooms by different teachers from different curricula, just under the one roof. It is possible that I just did not see such divisions in Sarajevo, but most people I spoke to in Mostar confirmed what I saw, some going so far as to say it was the most divided place in Bosnia.

I was really sad to leave, the town was stunning, my hostel was so warm and homely and the people I met were great. But like all good things, they come to an end. One thing I continue to be reminded of is that analogy about holding sand in your hands, if you hold on to it too tightly it all slips away, if you just hold it gently most of it stays, that seems to describe relationships and experiences in general. Travelling has been a good reminder of how impermanent experiences are, we simply need to hold them gently, enjoy them while we have them and be flexible enough to flow into new experiences.