My sister Mariah recently visited us in Kotor for six fun-filled days. She flew from San Diego to London to Serbia to Montenegro – just a hop, skip and a jump really.
One way to tell that you are, in fact, living the good life, is when you are residing on a beautiful bay next to a beautiful walled-in town and you say to yourself, you know, maybe I’d like a change of scenery.
In case you are still wondering how our search for a [structurally sound] dinghy concluded, I’ll go ahead and let these pictures do the talking.
Sarajevo struck us as a friendly, tolerant, multicultural, midsized city with a beautiful backdrop of gradual hills and steep mountains. Influences from the Ottoman empire of the east and the Roman, Venetian, Austro-Hungarian empires of the west have left an indelible mark on the city through culture and religion.
On the second morning of our stay in Sarajevo, Adam almost choked on his Turkish coffee when I announced that I’d like to go to a museum. The day before, we had the privilege of touring the city with a local – a friend of a friend – who, like most Sarajevans 22 years of age or older, lived through the four year siege on Sarajevo, the longest siege in the history of the modern world.
It feels exactly like a grimy version of the train car the aristocrats in Anna Karenina would have ridden in – it’s not absurd to think it might actually be a train car Tolstoy himself rode in 150 years ago.
Outside of the charming old town, there are signs of war and destruction all over the place, woven harshly into the fabric of everyday life.
But I am in no way different from her in that sense and there is always something exploitative and selfish in traveling. Like any traveler in a foreign land, she is using the place and its people to advance her own self, to improve and advance her own life, just as I am.