So I nearly didn’t write a blog cos I got pissed off earlier
last week and had some shitty news then I thought it would consume the next
blog and there would be an underlying tone of anger, except, I’ve decided to
just get over it because there is a story here that needs to be told. Having been to Croatia numerous times already, and twice to
Slovenia, I thought it was time to explore the wider Former Yugoslavia. On the
9th October, after two days of re-set in Londres to basically wash
ALL my clothes from South America and eat at Roxies. I landed in Dubrovnik, a
place I’ve been numerous times before. My only goal of the trip was to eat
Grilled Octopus every day.
I walked to the AirBnb Margarita (which I can highly
recommend), even though I split my jeans unnecessarily jumping up a fence to
get to my AirBnb and misconstrued the instructions, attending to every large
tree in the vicinity before getting to the right one by simply using Google Maps,
I was in high spirits, albeit a little scared my arse was hanging out whilst
greeting my host with my Langchump covering the front of me to prevent
flashing. . Lunchtime, I achieved my goal when I visited the number 1
TripAdvisor restaurant and accompanied my delicious tentacles with some local
wine in my favourite kind of glass that fits your nose in it. I even ignored
the fact I’d split my jeans (probably attributed to the additional blubber
obtained from South America) and had a chocolate lava cake for dessert.
The weather was super
so I walked to the beach and spent all day there and managed a snooze, as again
I’d had a 4:30am Uber. After, I stupidly went and had dinner, Gnocchi and even
dessert before I lumped my fat arse back for some rest before the bus to
Montenegro.
The bus was quite funny. It arrived an hour late and the
Croatian guy was this old C you Next Tuesday who yelled at as many people he
could for not printing tickets, however it rather settled and after two hours I
arrived in Kotor. I googled Thai massage, as my back was sore from first world
travelling problems, such as plane and bus rides, and went and spent 4 times
what my accommodation cost for the night. This set the trend for the holiday. Here, I stayed at Old Town Hostel and met some new friends
at dinner, including an in denial of being Gay Aussie Guy, a young blue eyed
couple from Tassie, a lovely young lady Maddie (also Aus) and a few French.
Another Aussie guy called Farley was staying in my room, just the two of us,
romantic as. My favourite joke when Farley introduced himself was to tell people he was named after the family dog. However he actually was named after his grandma.
We started the next perfect day together with eggs bene at a
local restaurant called Astoria, where I saved his life from two wasp stings by
tending to him with ice and antihistamine, before we trekked up the castle on
the hill – up the local ‘free entry’ way. During this hike, we met an almost 79
year old lady from Russia powering up. It made me remember the strong ladies
I’ve had and lucky to have in my life, picturing a determined Nonna and Granny.
We also had a third wheel on our journey, an Indian guy, who was barely Indian
as he didn’t really talk about cricket. He told us about a place up the
mountain that sold fresh cheese so we were searching for the place when I
spotted a baby brown snake and realised, the search was more perilous than I’d
hoped with the overgrown grass surrounds. We found the place and were greeted by an old drunk
handing us Rakija and cheese and meat platter that was bought from a store,
contrary to the homemade statement. I had enough of fake Indian and we set off
leaving him in our wake, Farley trying to convince me to go to the steep trail
right to the top to see the view ‘opened up’ to which I shut him down saying
there was ‘no fucking way’ I was doing more than the bare minimum and we trot
off to the castle. We took a few quick snaps and before heading down the usual
tourist way which was thousands of steps. I really hated this, but I was
grateful for my long legged stride as it seemed to work with pace. Worst part
was I kept telling him how awful it was and asking if it would ever end. He
kindly laughed before we set off to the bus to head to the beach, which was
also my idea. During the bus ride we worked out that we grew up close, he in
Lakes Entrance and me obvs in Traralgon, albeit a few years apart. I was super
impressed when I found out he had studied Mechatronics, as per my fav first
ever housemate Caz Tan (Birdsong).
Budva was beautiful. We spotted umbrellas perched on the
edge of the old town and decided to go there for a feed. We arrived to this old
dude, taking his time to serve us, realising it was pricey but not really
caring, and ordered a bottle of prosecco. We had the place to ourselves and the
man told us the kitchen was not yet open. We downed prosecco, olives and cheese
and soon, the man returned to take our order. Farley ordered a burger and the
man was like ‘only for Russians this shit’ and made him order beef steak, and I
had the veal. The food was incredible
and the man was so good though our bill was only 40 or so each, and set off to
the beach to chill, before heading back on the bus to join the hostel crew for
the dinner boat cruise. Everyone was giving us shit about our couply date but
we had such a great day, I don’t think either of us gave two shits. We headed
out to the only bar and some random Aussie weirdo called Shaggy from some
outback town gave me a massage. The next day Farley left for Albania and I decided to stay
another so I could take advantage of the weather on the booze cruise and get
some rays, rather than join him on a hike. I left the following morning after I
had a shitty morning with shitty news about people being shitty I then made my
day shittier by arriving at the wrong airport for my flight to Belgrade and had
to fork out 85 euro for a new flight – so after my short 45 minute 160 euro
flight I arrived in Belgrade then caught the wrong bus and had to walk 2kms to
Arkabarka the floating hostel. Fair to say I was a hot mess when I arrived. So
sad and angry at life I was greeted by nice-ish Serbs and a yoga teacher and
promptly booked the morning session to help calm the farm.
I took myself out for a nice dinner then came back to the
hostel to start to read the book I’d carted across South America and hadn’t
started and try get an early night. Only problem with my double bed score, was
that there was an elderly lady from Germany that snored the house down.
Introduce me, world’s worst sleeper and the first of my restless nights. The
next day I did the walking tour and heard the Serb side of history. Blamed for
the war, the country economy plummeted, the dollar exponentially falling up to
16 % daily, the country was thrown in to despair. The local mafia became rich,
whilst everyone else barely fed themselves. I was somewhat preoccupied during
the tour as I hadn’t yet organised the car to Sarajevo the next day. There was
no doubt Belgrade was awesome and there was an awesome floating nightlife that
evening. I will definitely come back again one day and spend more time there. I
launched myself across town that night in search to fulfil my craving for thai
food. There were only two in the city so I walked 2.8 miles across highways and
finally got my pad thai. Although it was almost darkness, and I didn’t feel too
unsafe, I thought it best I do their equivalent of Uber home and had to double
check when a very youthful tall good looking guy picked me up instead of the
old dude in the pic I was expected. The number plates matched though so I got
in and hot young man explained it was his dad’s heap of junk he was driving. Hot
guy aka son of Namanja was a basketball coach. His mum and sister were
architects and that’s all I could remember. He dropped me off and I cursing
myself I didn’t get his details.
That night – old lady informed me she had to get up at
3:30am and hoped she wouldn’t wake me. Hard to wake someone that can’t sleep
through ear plugs because she was snoring so loud! But when her alarm went off
I had just myself fallen in to a lucid dream and during I was telling her I
hadn’t told her off for her loud snoring, so hurry the fuck up and get the hell
out of the room, instead of piss farting around packing what only sounded like
plastic bags! Finally she fucked off and I was then alarmed myself at 7am for
shower and breaky before the 8am transfer. Only they now informed me, it wasn’t
coming as there were technical issues and instead booked me on the 5pm. Somehow
I managed to book another company for 11am, and I wasn’t 100% sure it had gone
through when it was nearing 12 and they still hadn’t come, the lady at the hostel
called and was assured it was coming at 12:20pm at the bus stop opposite. I
decided to pull the plug and head back to the hostel at 12:45pm, just
concurrent to me seeing a car flashing their headlights to pull over.
Thankfully this was me and I was lumped In the back, where I could lay out the
suitcases and watch a movie. One of the guys in the transfer was HOT, he was
Bosnian – his name was Riad and his English was amazing. I had a snooze and was
woken up to talk back radio. I asked him what they were talking about and he
said recently there were elections. He said his country had three presidents –
one Serb, one Croat and one Bosnian and they were all fuckwits. I told him we
only had one fuck wit but it kept changing. Super smart, Riad was in Belgrade
visiting mates, and had just completed uni in Sarajevo and studied Genetics –
specialising in proteins in humans. Refraining from dodgy jokes, I instead
grabbed some restaurant names to attend in his home town Mostar, stupidly also
refraining from grabbing is details to hang out in Mostar as I was due to
arrive Wednesday.
In Sarajevo I arrived super tired and went for dinner at the
Singing Nettle for dinner. I didn’t love it and it was my second most expensive
meal to date, so rather dejected I headed back and was again really happy to
realise I was in a room with a Taiwanese snorer this time. I kept daydreaming
jumping the 100m from my top bunk to grab ear plugs for awhile before I finally
succumbed to reception and begged for some pluggers. My third straight night
with a snoring female was getting me down. I decided as she was also staying
the next night, I needed to get more drunk so joined forces with some others at
the hostel- a rude Norweigan called Janis and a top knotted swede called Jeff.
There was also a miscellaneous annoying Kiwi (and made me have a little hatred
for my beloved kiwis) and a young American girl. But first that day, I started
off with Eggs Bene and a walking tour of the city that began at 10am in front
of the old cathedral with the most amazing Pope John Paul statue. Again, I
thought of Nonna.
Sarajevo - what a stunning city. The mixture of religious
harmony is absolutely breath taking. Much akin to Jerusalem. The old town and
the new town, blue eyed Muslims, humans that look like me, speaking Bosnian.
The walking tour was hosted by a nutcase guide called Enes. He was however
awesome, explaining the wars. We saw where WW2 began, with the massacre of
Franz Ferdinand (not the singer), and heard stories of courage, such as when
Hitler sent his soldiers to get the Hagada book at the Jewish temple and a
Muslim grabbed the book, told the soldier it had already been given to the
Nazis and was instead taken to the Muslim Mosque and hidden with the Koran.
We were then told about 1992- 1995 - the city circled by
Serbs and the massacres that took place. For such a recent history, I don’t
believe we know enough about it and cannot even begin to understand how people
of the one race get fuelled by hubris led propaganda machines that call themselves
Politian’s and turn neighbours against each other. For one thing was certain,
this was not a religious war. Not everyone wanted a Serbia or Croatia, many
wanted a Yugoslavia. However, after the prosperity of Yugoslavia and the death
of Tito, hatred was bred, and for some reason, Serbia decided to attack. The
viciousness of the massacres that took place at Srebrenica under the UN watch
is an atrocity. The murder of children, civilians, absolutely heart breaking.
You could tell the prosperity of the people, for my by their watches, Longines,
Omega’s alongside childrens teddy bears, bloodstained clothes, contained in the
museum of Genocide, which we visited afterwards. The US were close to
preventing one of the massacres by commencing bombing, but the French called it
off (seriously, can the French just give up on politics already?!). Ironically
when that bombing did commence, it ended the war, alongside the Croatian army-
which I’ll get in to after.
 |
| Mostar |
I decided to skip more doom and gloom re the tunnels which
apparently was a massive fail on my part however I did and instead got drunk
with the guys at the hostel – a Swede and Dutchy, downing Rakia and getting a
kebab from a blue eyed white guy – a first for me, before attempting a sleep
with the Taiwan snoring engine. This time, the sleep again failed me, and with
the 5:45am wake up to catch the 7am scenic train to Mostar, I was scared I
would miss the journey through sheer exhaustion leading to sleep on the train.
The Northern hemisphere lads and I made it and I managed a movie (The Book
Thief, great film and has my fav actor Geoffrey Rush in it) and stayed awake
for the scenery. The windows were quite dirty, so there was no way you could
take photos, though it really pissed me off that people spent their time trying
to video or photo it on their phones, rather than look at the view with their
eyes. I mean, their footage will be garbage, what you see through the phone is
garbage, you’ll never watch it through, how about just use your eyes and enjoy
it for you? So that’s what I did.
Maddy, the young Aussie girl in Kotor recommended hostel
Majdas in Mostar. I had also arranged a 12-hour tour of Bosnia via email that
started as soon as I arrived, so as soon as I got to the hostel, I promptly
upgraded to a private and was given some amazing breakfast and shown to my room
for an hour prior to the tour starting. I also bumped in to some mates I’d met
in Kotor from Tassie that had committed to jumping the bridge – they did and managed
to do so injury free. The tour was ran by Majda’s brother Bata, whose name should
actually by Batty. He was absolutely nuts! But so glad that I did it. He told
us about how after the Serbs came to Mostar and the Croatians then came in and
saved them. They then knifed them in the back, and started doing what the Serbs
did, massacring them, trying to take Bosnia. He was smuggled out by a Croatian
Bosnian in a fake ambulance and sent to Sweden. It was mere fate a Croat from
his school recognised him and saved him from a mass grave. Post war, he went to
thank the man, but was told his fate was not so good. We were shown how Mostar
is divided, strangely even despite the massacres and treatment, Croatia and
Serbia still have a stake in the Bosnian parliament, and one half of Mostar is
Croatian Bosnian, and is much more advanced than the Bosnian side. He thinks it
is a message. I don’t think he is a stupid as his batty behaviour presents. The
overarching similarity between Batty Bata and Enes is the same message - both
agree – contrary to the world propaganda, this was not a religious war (they
have lived harmoniously for over a thousand years, having 50% mixed marriage
pre-war), this is not a civil war, this was bigger. War crimes were committed
and post war, the politicians responsible including Milsovic, Martic, Babic, Karadzic,
Mladic have all been prosecuted. A Bosnian Serb led the Bosnians at the time
and saved Sarajevo. This for me had too many similarities with whatever is
going on between Israel and Palestine. When you see Jerusalem and Sarajevo and
how harmonious the old towns are – Jews, Christians and Muslims, you realise we
are all swallowing the same pill, we are all spiders in the same misleading
web. The fact that humans threw loaded truck tyres down the hill to the city
valleys to murder, the rapes, the murder, the genocide and still, what I will
say, is the Bosnians are the most friendly in this Yugonook. Yeah, they are
bonkers, but their humour is incredible, their resilience is unsurpassed.
We went to the Kravice waterfalls, which were picturesque
but too cold for me, I lapped up the sun, had a beer and read a book from the
bank rather than deal with the numbing cold water to climb a waterfall which I
am almost 100% sure I would hurt myself. We left there and headed to a village
called Neretvanski which was an old village and went for tea and syrups at a
local old ladys house. We overate there, before heading to our final stop a
town about 12kms from Mostar called Blagaj where we agreed to head back should
I stay another night in lieu of heading to Split for my flight a night early,
and then back to the hostel.
The next day we got up and was served an amazing breaky.
After I joined forces with my new mate the American brother and sister due Liza
and Nick, the Swede and the Dutchie (and some other American chick I didn’t really
get to know), then we headed back to Blagaj by bus to do the hike up the
mountain to the last Bosnian Kings castle. After we donned head scarf and a wrap dresses we were
allowed to visit the Monastery which impressively sits adjacent to the cave, under
the clifftop. The cave is a mystery in itself, a pilgrimage for many, the water
source isn’t immediately known, however it has since been revealed to be deep
and some 19kms wide. I had some water and made a wish. What a blessed place. I
hope it knows peace in my lifetime and many more. I hope it returns to the
former 50/50 marriage it was and Yugoslavia remembers Bosnia. Sadly, having
seen Palestine and knowing our government locks up innocents abroad, I don’t
think we ever will stop behaving badly, but I hope we do. I will come
back and do succeed in my quest to eat Octopus every day... what an amazing place.
I no longer talk to Girthy / he no longer
talks to me– though for the life of me I don’t know why I do miss the erratic
insecurity he added to my life over the last almost 5 years. It’s like mourning. Since I’ve moved there
has been limited potentials - Tennis BF who was named as I met him at the
tennis, though he couldn’t be further from a BF. He is like the hottest guy you
could imagine that you never want to meet your parents (though I think Lino
might like him). Problem is I met him at the tennis –in Melb… and then moved
to NSW, also I know he doesn't really give a shit as I said something like “oh
I came home and surprised my grandma, want to see a picture?” and he was like “No”. Charming! 
I joined Virgin Collective – the most
luxurious gym membership and I was going great guns, losing the love handles,
venturing out, enjoying the dregs of Summer and the mild Winter… until I
sprained my ankle and regained the massive love handles almost simultaneously.
I was going nuts not working out but utilised the free blow dries at the gym
and prosecco on Thursday and Fridays to get the most of my membership while
injured and I managed to escape with some sanity, until walking my bike home
(because I was too drunk to ride it) and sprained my ankle again. That made me visit the Chiropractor that Ang recommended to me (Dan Gilmore @ Waterloo Chiro). She told me, he used to play footy but I just assumed the Swans, so when in general chat he goes "so in London how did you watch the cats games?" and I said "my friend is a Swans fan, and went halvies in an international membership - but we wanted the cheapest one we could get, which was Freo - but neither of us wanted that so we went for a Geelong one as it was cheaper than the Sydney one... I was well embarrassed when he said "I used to play for Freo!" Face. Palm. 
I have also started an artsy Instagram
called Trolleys_of_Redfern_ which I’d told Sean on one of our walks I was going
to do out of my disdain for people who think they are super arty and have bullshit
art installations or ideas and call it art. Ironically, I have grown to enjoy the page. We
had a bottomless brunch a few weeks ago and Jules bought me insta followers
from a far Arabic land… so I started off with almost 1000 followers, though its
rapido taking a dive towards the 800 mark! Not all is lost though I’ve managed
a cult following of local businesses! 
I went to Trents ladies day and wrote myself
off by 7pm. After a can of coke the next day I managed a hike to Watsons bay
with my housemates and neighbours. My new resolution is to travel more around
Sydney, as I have become to enjoy my little niche and forget how much I used to
travel across London to do stuff. I also have the bike here now, and need to
get back to it. My time of late consists of work, le tour de France, researching
adoptable greyhounds and trying to book my next holiday. Feel free to hit me up
if you need a travel buddy or are keen on a Xmas getaway somewhere warm or let
me know if you are visiting Sydney – I’m lucky to have had the fam up already
and I’m always keen to increase my Sydney friend quota!
