The Archive

Tunnel vision

So, a nice early start today as we had a big tour of the town planned. A quick word with the nice lady on reception at our hotel and a personal guide was booked.

And what a guide.

Now you may not believe this, but when I asked for a guide, at no point did I specify that I had any preference for a hot young blonde.

But guess what?

That's right, God once again smiled upon us (I can't think why, it's not like we've done much for him lately) and delivered...

the lovely Layla



Mmm. I love learning about local history and customs.

Although it should probably also be observed that one of the first things she actually said to us was 'I can't go out with you tonight'.

Odd really, given that we hadn't asked. I like to think she was expressing regret because she actually wanted to and would have suggested it herself.

Shut up! That's what she meant. La la la, I'm not listening.

Anyway, we all jumped in the Mystery Machine (ok, our bus, but at least we had a Daphne now) and headed towards the airport.

Why the airport? Simple, back in the unpleasantness, Sarajevo was surrounded as the hills on all sides were occupied by Serbs who liked nothing better than a game of 'snipe the Bosniak'.

The only unoccupied area was end of the valley was the airport which was held by the UN.

Across the runway was the only, small link to free Bosnia and, consequently, food, guns, medicine and any chance of survival.

The only catch was the UN, being helpful souls on a humanitarian mission, would not allow the Bosnians to cross the airfield, so Sarajevo was literally cut off from help.

Until a few plucky souls, no doubt inspired by The Great Escape, decided to tunnel under the runway.

By hand they dug about 800 metres to connect Sarajevo to the remains of Bosnia and through this tunnel, millions of people travelled (usually through ankle deep water) bringing essential supplies to the city.

There is only a 20ish metre stretch of the tunnel left, preserved by one of the families that dug the tunnel as a museum, and that's where we went.

It was truly amazing. It was like something out of a war film but we were actually talking to people who dug and used the tunnel. It really brought home how grim it must have been.

Mind you, they were remarkably phlegmatic about it. As the chap said, "digging whilst being shelled was no problem. All of the city was being shelled, so it was no worse than being bombed in your living room."

Made me feel a bit churlish for complaining about the scratchy blankets in the hotel, I can tell you.

Anyway, after the tunnel made us all feel nice and gloomy, we headed back into town to see more traditional sights.

Sarajevo was apparently sometimes known as Europe's Jerusalem, because so many religions were established side by side there. An ancient church, a mosque and a synagogue can all be found within a square mile in the old town.

Of course nowadays it's still Europe's Jerusalem, but for much less pleasant reasons.

So we toured the old town with Lovely Layla, including a stopoff at what is now known as Gavrilo Princip bridge, the site of the assassination of British guitar band Archduke Franz Ferdinand.

Step forward the Soiled Nut.

Yes, 0nce again we got to shoot at each other with our fingers, pretending to start the First World War.

We are juvenile aren't we?

We also saw Sarajevo's hall of records. Well, what was left of it, after the Serbs shelled and burned it out, destroying an enormous library of valuable books and vital documentation.

It looks like this now...






Fortunately the Bosniaks have really let byegones be bygones about this.

Oh no, hang on, they haven't. Actually they've put a plaque out on the front of the buildings declaring that the place was burned 'by Serbian criminals' and that visitors should 'learn and warn others'.

So, in that spirit, I suggest you all watch out for Serbs climbing hills.

Oh, and finally, we asked Lovely Layla to join us for lunch, where she introduced us to a local specialty called pita (not the bread you're thinking of, more like a pastry slice).

Apparently a woman can be judged by the quality of the pita she makes. If she can't give good pita, she's got no chance on the marriage market. And then Layla told us she wasn't very good at pita baking, so was destined to end up on the shelf.

Of course I offered, but I guess she was joking.

So, full of sights and greasy pastry, we headed back to the hotel to prepare for a big night out in Sarajevo.

There's not much to say about the night out except...

1. Adam turned out to have a room in The Annex, a building that was beautifully furnished and decorated in a modern style, looking suspiciously like it was a completely different hotel to ours, complete with it's own front door key. Consequently he hosted a nice pre-evening cocktail party. Civilised eh?

2. Sarajevo is a Muslim town. Not a lot of action.

3. Wig was 'just being friendly,'.

4. I discovered that Wig's 'get hammered and stare really close up at girls' technique was as effective in Bosnia as it was in Serbia.

5. That doctor woman was a miserable man-faced old sow.

That is all. And now to bed.

Coming soon - a 'knock knock' joke, Mostar-style.

posted by Peter The Great @ 1:31 PM