Much has been said about Dubrovnik in the past (at least in this site), so I’ll save the new story about it for another time. Split, meanwhile, left a good impression too. Bright, historic, and full of life, even in winter. But will save the narrative for later. Sarajevo, on the other hand, was entirely different. It demanded for an immediate feature. So here we go.
It was Christmas Day and the city greeted me with a sharp, crisp, and quiet December air. The city was wrapped in fog but still inviting. It was a fitting atmosphere for what the moment deemed to be felt. Cold, blurry, but thriving. I stepped off the tram and stood across the Latin Bridge, right on that very site that birthed a defining moment that significantly changed the course of Earth. That very spot, where the act was committed, and set in motion the inevitable war that no one could stop at that time. And the rest, as they say, is (a bloody) history.
For that, Sarajevo , big-time carried a certain weight, a depth shaped by pain and memory. Yet behind that heaviness, there was warmth too. There was the calm river, a silent witness to all the things (or at least some of them) that had unfolded around it. Also its people. I found most of them highly reserved, yet helpful. Right then and there, I felt some sense of luck and privilege, to have a glimpse and experience such complicated soul.
Just like how I normally do travelling in cities I visit for the first time, I wandered aimlessly through its streets. In one corner, there were the peaceful Ottoman courtyards and old mosques. Down another street rose the neat lines and pastel Austro-Hungarian buildings, then the gray apartment blocks from the Yugoslav years. The way I see it, the scape was a patchwork that shouldn’t make sense but somehow does. Much like pizza with jalapeño and pineapple. Or my current data analysis playlist that has Fleetwood Mac, Elvis Presley, and Edoardo Bennato in it. Surprisingly motivating! 😉 It's giving dark comedy, set in postcard-beautiful cliffs of emotional rot and casual cruelty. Ok, that’s too much.
Going back to the topic.. I did try to take in as much of Sarajevo as I could, of the two days that I had. Probably my main takeaway was how Sarajevo takes pride in not hiding its scars. Museums documenting all the terrors, atrocities, and darkness, were of abundance. Too raw, too real, unapologetically present. Each screams silent reminder to never forget. Like the Banshees of Inisherin, wearing silence and severed fingers, not as spectacle, but as facts.
Two days weren’t nearly enough. And possibly no visit ever will be. The thing is, Sarajevo is one of those few places. It isn’t just a place to see, but one to return to. And I do hope to go back one day, to see how it continues to heal. Or preserve the damage. Or both. In some cases, time does heal, but most of the time, it just teaches us ways to hide the pain better. It's a slow process sometimes. For now, I took home with me pieces of Sarajevo: a tinge of sadness for what had transpired and deep respect for all it endured.
The Eternal Flame of Sarajevo — a memorial dedicated to the victims and heroes of WWII, located at the intersection of Ferhadija & Titova streets, was unveiled to honor those who lost their lives during the liberation of the city from fascist occupation, and remains one of Sarajevo’s most important historical landmarks.
