bosnia, night fall, and how beautiful on the cobbled street were my feet walking. mostar is about 500 years old, an ancient town that has remained relatively unchanged. however, it is in a since no more than 2 years old. the entire population of the town left after it was reduced to rubble in the nineties, and 7 years ago they began trickling back. in 2005 it was completely rebuilt and is absolutely breathtaking.
jessica and i had just crossed the old bridge when a short man sweeping the sidewalk asked us if we were hungry. we said we were, and as quickly as he could he unlocked his restuaurant/house and sat us down at a table.
the menu was fairly extensive, but he approached us saying, "do you like chicken?" it was more of a statement than a question and in 10 minutes he served us his house specialty. while we ate he told us his story.
tale (pronounced 'towlie') was born and raised in mostar. by his early thirties he was a very succesful man. he had been educated in hospitality, owned two restaurants, had a wife and two sons.
"its nice when the season's over, so the streets aren't so crowded and you can talk one on one to people," jessica said.
"oh no, no," replied tale, "i love people. if this town were crowded all the time i would be happy. the more people for me to talk to, the better."
in the nineties croatia and serbia were fiercely at war. however, because bosnia is right in between them much of the fighting took place there. tale didn't go too much in to detail, but pictures of the town during that time are quite telling. the streets were feet deep in rubble. the buildings were collapsed. from the looks of it the town had been hit by an atomic bomb. even the old bridge, one of the world heritage sites, was completely destroyed. after all this, tale wanted to stay in his home town. however, his wife urged him to leave. in 1997, after fierce fighting, tale and his family applied for refugee status in canada and soon moved. the once succesful business man was now penniless and jobless in a foreign country where nobody spoke his language.
"for a year and a half i didn't leave my house. i didn't speak english and i had no job. i was depressed."
however, after a friend of his who had been a professor of math in bosnia urged him to get a job, tale began to work as a pizza delivery man. his wife began to go to a university and his children soon became canadians. for eight years the top chef slung pizzas and saved every penny he could, and after he began to learn basic english he tried to tell others his story. but, of course, nobody believed him.
in 2005 tale came back to mostar with his youngest son to start his business back. he and his son rebuilt his home and restaurant by hand, repainted everything and bought an oven. it was now that we were sitting in his place and enjoying his hospitality. he soon went back to the kitchen and brought out some walnut cake topped with whipped cream. "here," he said, "this is on me."
"when you go back, to america, tell everyone that muslims are not bad. we are not extremists, we are not angry. most people write us off before ever meeting us. but we are victims of violence just as others are. all we want is for people to visit us, to see for themselves."
we paid the bill (it was 20 dollars for both of us) and crossed back over the newly rebuilt old bridge. the town was splashed in ambient light from the crescent moon, and the shop owners were just closing their doors. absolutely incredible.
jessica and i had just crossed the old bridge when a short man sweeping the sidewalk asked us if we were hungry. we said we were, and as quickly as he could he unlocked his restuaurant/house and sat us down at a table.
the menu was fairly extensive, but he approached us saying, "do you like chicken?" it was more of a statement than a question and in 10 minutes he served us his house specialty. while we ate he told us his story.
tale (pronounced 'towlie') was born and raised in mostar. by his early thirties he was a very succesful man. he had been educated in hospitality, owned two restaurants, had a wife and two sons.
"its nice when the season's over, so the streets aren't so crowded and you can talk one on one to people," jessica said.
"oh no, no," replied tale, "i love people. if this town were crowded all the time i would be happy. the more people for me to talk to, the better."
in the nineties croatia and serbia were fiercely at war. however, because bosnia is right in between them much of the fighting took place there. tale didn't go too much in to detail, but pictures of the town during that time are quite telling. the streets were feet deep in rubble. the buildings were collapsed. from the looks of it the town had been hit by an atomic bomb. even the old bridge, one of the world heritage sites, was completely destroyed. after all this, tale wanted to stay in his home town. however, his wife urged him to leave. in 1997, after fierce fighting, tale and his family applied for refugee status in canada and soon moved. the once succesful business man was now penniless and jobless in a foreign country where nobody spoke his language.
"for a year and a half i didn't leave my house. i didn't speak english and i had no job. i was depressed."
however, after a friend of his who had been a professor of math in bosnia urged him to get a job, tale began to work as a pizza delivery man. his wife began to go to a university and his children soon became canadians. for eight years the top chef slung pizzas and saved every penny he could, and after he began to learn basic english he tried to tell others his story. but, of course, nobody believed him.
in 2005 tale came back to mostar with his youngest son to start his business back. he and his son rebuilt his home and restaurant by hand, repainted everything and bought an oven. it was now that we were sitting in his place and enjoying his hospitality. he soon went back to the kitchen and brought out some walnut cake topped with whipped cream. "here," he said, "this is on me."
"when you go back, to america, tell everyone that muslims are not bad. we are not extremists, we are not angry. most people write us off before ever meeting us. but we are victims of violence just as others are. all we want is for people to visit us, to see for themselves."
we paid the bill (it was 20 dollars for both of us) and crossed back over the newly rebuilt old bridge. the town was splashed in ambient light from the crescent moon, and the shop owners were just closing their doors. absolutely incredible.
1 comment:
did you take this picture yourself? It's amazing. I was doing a google image search for a good picture of the "novi most" for my facebook page, and this one took my breath away. anyway, read your blog about mostar...it really touched me. i lived in bosnia for a year and mostar is one of my favorite cities in the world. makes me happy to know about other americans who have also expereinced the beauty of it's peoples, buildings, streets, mountains, and river! thanks for the pic.
erika tamaska
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