Beyond Hvar our Balkan biking journey takes us inland from Croatia into Bosnia, to visit the pilgrim shrine of Medjugorje and then onto to the Southern Bosnian city of Mostar. As the sun goes down on another day of tough Balkan riding it’s a relief to cruise down a mountain into the city suburbs. We know of Mostar and the famous Stari Most from news and modern history, but are unsure what to expect in person. Having heard rumours of renewal and regeneration, we are interested to see for ourselves how the city’s spirit and appearance are faring beyond its brutal recent past…
We know Mostar only from news and modern history, yet don’t know what to expect. Arriving at night the first impression is strangely magical.
Reminders of a brutal past are never far away, even in the most Disneyseque parts of town and especially beyond the centre.
We blast down steep hairpin bends in a haze of hope, heat and hunger. And the picture changes from green to grey as mountain slopes become abandoned, twisted concrete. Abandoned buildings pock-marked with bullet holes mark it out as a Balkan city that was once ravaged by war. Scarred and scared by its own history perhaps. A city still reinventing itself, one perhaps that doesn’t always like to talk about its past or even the undercurrents of the present?
But beyond the past, in the new old heart of this city there is a golden glow. This is the Mostar of tourists. A Disney scape in pastel shades. A fairytale bridge set in starry night. A needle sharp minaret, an arresting silhouette. Technicolour vendors selling tourists delights.
Just like it was, but obviously not. Cobbles copied meticulously from the past, now polished by the feet of a stream of holiday makers, dreamers, lovers and history buffs. Buildings restored; the front line gone, but present in the mind. There is jumping from the bridge, but for money not for life. The war is a souvenir shell, a photograph, a museum exhibit. And, I imagine, a vivid and unspoken memory in many tortured hearts and minds
By contrast the Old Town seems almost too perfect, a Disneyesque version of the city that seems mostly inhabited by tourists.
The Old Bridge, Stari Most, spans the valley of the Neretva River. It is an icon and a meeting point. The bombing of Stari Most in 1993 during a brutal fight between Muslim and Croats was one of the most shocking symbols of the Bosnian war. TV coverage by worldwide media meant the international community took notice as east of the city became separated from west in just a few seconds. These days the two parts of the city have been joined with a thirteen million dollar restoration project that saw the bridge being painstakingly reconstructed and took significantly longer. Yet despite the time and effort involved, and the undeniable symbolic power and beauty of this bridge, it is hard to imagine it healing deep underlying divides.
The Mostar Star Most (Old Bridge) is a potent and powerful symbol of a Mostar being rebuilt after the ravages of war.
But even today the bridge is still difficult to cross. By bicycle anyway. With trailers, and kids. But at least it’s not because of snipers or ethnic divisions. No, it’s much more prosaic; there are simply too many tourists in search of souvenirs and supper. We turn back, pushing our bicycles through the crowds and evening heat. A local asks if we are lost. He begins his query by waving his hands into the air. “Welcome to Bosnia,” he cries. Behind him a tall thin tower, glimmers in the evening dusk, one of the many rebuilt minarets of Mostar.
As we make our way through town the air fills with the haunting chant of a muezzin’s call to prayer. Through a round of text messages and pigeon English we make contact with our host who meets us in town to guide us back to his apartment, our accommodation. He raises an eyebrow at our bikes and baggage, hops on a scooter and takes us off the wrong way down a one way street. Already I feel at home.
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