Bosnia and Herzegovina (continued)
The evening saw me off to the UEFA cup match between Hearts of Midlothian and a local Sarajevan side at the Olympic Stadium. A friendly Bosnian guy called Islam helped me to buy a ticket from a candlelit ticket office, but the police wouldn't let him into the Scottish end- he tried to pass himself off miserably badly as a non-Bosnian, and was trying to make a little cash by selling crisps to the Scottish fans. I had even bought him a ticket. To be honest, I don't mind being ripped off by a Bosnian muslim.

Hearts did the neccessary, keeping the 2-0 home advantage
without converting any of the few chances they had. It was getting colder with the welcome warmth of Split a fairly distant memory. I met up with Tom, a sixtysomething Scot and his young son Robert, who had taken a coach from Edinburgh for the game, We were surrounded by loyal, if slightly barmy Hearts fans, who regaled us with such classic ditties as "My Old Man, said become a Hibs fan, I said f*** off, b******s, you're a c***". Well I wasn't really expecting Rabbie Burns...

A quiet walk through the old town before I headed back to bed. There's something magical about Sarajevo. The dead may line the hillsides but their spirits linger on.
Stari Most, Mostar, Herzegovina 16th October
You don't need to be very profound to find the destruction of a bridge especially affecting. NATO did it to the Serbs, and the Croat HVO did it here in Mostar, in the three-sided deadly game of chess played out in this country.

The bridge is being "rehabilitated" as the signs say, and it will link the two sides of the old town; the
appearance of the new "old" bridge will be faithfull to the original, but there will be a sense of artifice about Mostar in the future, whether we like it or not.

The towers at either side of the bridge are still decapitated skeletons, and there is much to reanimate in the architecture of the old town. And yet...as in Sarajevo, there is a feeling that the place is getting on its feet again. It helps that I have left yesterday's rain back in Sarajevo, and today was a warm, if rather breezy day.

It was a beautiful drive down throught the mountains of Herzegovina, although the motion of the bus kept making me nodd off- I woke up at every stop  to ask an elderly beret-clad Bosnian sitting in front of me "Mostar?", but the name of another town that sounded familiar from the war was the usual response.

The former front line of the city was eerily quiet, although in places buildings proclaimed their refurbishment courtesy of one country or another. Many, however, remained untouched since the end of the fighting. A short wlk into the Croat- dominated part of Mostar however, now reveals a bustling tree-lined grid of shops  and cafes topped by modern, soulless apartment blocks, which away from the historic centre escaped largely unscathed.

Tragedies in Bosnia-Herzegovina are indeed manifold, but here, as in Sarajevo, there is still a street named after Marshall Tito, which tells us something, don't you think?


                    
right: artwork on a building expresses the hope the new bridge will heal the divide
Next Stop:

Dubrovnik, Croatia
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