We woke up in Albania (words that most Americans would probably dread on a vacation) and went down for our breakfast which consisted of many mystery substances - most smelling of figs or cheese. We ate the bread. I then attempted to drive us to a souvenir store because we are trying to collect ornaments from every country, but the traffic prevented us from getting a parking spot -- more specifically bicycle traffic. If there wasn't a bike taking up an entire parking spot, they were paralleling me as I drove and I had to keep dodging them. I then made an executive decision to just get out of Albania.
It was relatively quick getting through the Albanian border control and the Porsche breathed a sigh of relief knowing it had made it out of the high-theft zone. However, as we sprinted across Montenegro, our pace slowed as we neared the western border. Montenegro likes to put up police stops to arbitrarily flag down drivers when they're least expecting it. I was glad that the oncoming traffic would flash their lights to warn me since the speed limit of 60kph is impossible to maintain. But as we neared the Bosnian border, we came to a literal standstill.
We were very confused for many reasons. We figured it had something to do with construction, but why were people physically getting out of their cars and shutting off the engine? What was the timeline on this thing? Because we were on a road going to the border, all the cars were from different countries and spoke different languages. What we could gather from a Slovenian family in front of us was that the situation was "interesting" and that the road would open at 2pm. It wasn't really practical to drive around to another checkpoint, so we waited it out like every one else in line. As 2pm came, we all got in our cars as if the Indy 500 was about to start. The horns began at 2:01 and by 2:02 a car from the back had given his obligatory two minutes and had no more shits to give. He gunned it in the oncoming traffic lane and essentially just drove past the fence. That was the queue for the next guy to gun it and everyone was now like, "Well, if they're going I'm going.
We flew by the fence and excitedly drove about 800m until we stopped once more at the Bosnian border. Now the confusing thing about all this is that there was a flag flying that almost looked Russian. Furthermore, the checkpoint pillbox was labeled "Republika Sprska." Great, we've driven to the wrong country. I looked this all up later and it is and isn't Bosnia at the same time. If you want a good history lesson and want to be thoroughly confused, just research the Bosnian War of the 90s if you have a few hours to kill.
There are little reminders of the war here and there, but not out in the open. You have to look for them. Our final destination was Mostar in Bosnia. (Bosnia Bosnia, not this sprska nonsense). Mostar was a town under siege during the conflict, but it's kind of hard to picture that now. It has been transformed into a cute old town with shops and restaurants that cater to tourists. Didn't know Bosnia had a tourism industry did you? The bridge in this picture is called Stari Most (literally translated as old bridge).
That's a bit of a lie because the bridge itself was shelled into oblivion during the Bosnian war and was reconstructed fairly recently and looks very much like a new bridge built to look sort of old. Our B&B place has a nice room overlooking the bridge and is where I shot this photo. After getting settled we walked into the town where we had dinner. I had some sort of beef/pork/lamb hybrid thing called pljeskavica with a pita. It was a hearty meal that I washed down with an inexpensive local beer. We were also given complimentary rakia, but it was like drinking cough syrup.
After dinner, we went on a shopping spree. Nicole got some magnets and other gifts and also picked out a Turkish-style lamp to adorn our abode. They seem to be very popular in the Balkans and she's been eyeing them up since the beginning of the trip. I also got a Bosnian soccer jersey for 10 euro. They had them priced based on who the player was on the back. I naturally went with the cheapest one. I suppose it's like parading around with a jersey that says, "Johnny Manziel." In any event, we are enjoying the power of the almighty dollar and the overall cheapness of this trip. Unfortunately, we will eventually reach Austria and Germany, and I will not be making jersey purchases since they will probably be like 80 euro. As we finished up walking around Mostar, we caught the overcast cloud layer separating enough to let a little bit of color in from the sunset and made our way back to our B&B. But that's all from Bosnia for tonight. More on that tomorrow as we make our way back to Croatia and the city of Split.
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