We met some fellow American travelers (so far a less common animal) and a few Australians (they’re everywhere!) when we met up with Jasmina to see the airport tunnel. We spent the rest of the day visiting the now-indefinitely-closed Bosnian National Museum, sampling a pint at Sarajevsko brewery, and wandering the hilly neighborhoods of Sarajevo.
It was a long, relaxed, full day. And what can make you feel quite so right with the world as a puppy?
(Answer: two puppies.)
The puppies followed us, and a few blocks later we met a guy named Fudo who told us that the puppies were called Brownie and Blackie. Naturally.
Later that night, we discussed important sociological issues like the merits of in-home hookah usage.
Sarajevo had a serene, subdued feeling to it, at least during the week we spent there. It was easy to see hints of the worst of what was, but there was a definite flow of life moving on. It’s difficult to describe.
Pigeons swarmed Sebilj Fountain.
Cafes filled and emptied day after day.
Dogs were walked. Sometimes they had ice cream.
Parliament and the Holiday Inn, buildings that would have seen engulfed in flames on nightly newscasts less than two decades ago, stood shiny and whole.
Ammunition boxes found a new purpose as beer garden seating.
Eid, the end of Ramadan, arrived so quietly, we hardly noticed.
And the Miljacka River, shallow from a summer of no rain, crept past the Latin Bridge.
Hello, and goodbye, beautiful Sarajevo. We were lucky to have met you.