In the short six days that I've been in Sarajevo, I've taken it slow. My body is still adjusting to the time zone difference. I'm exhausted during the day and wired at night. I don't remember being jet lagged for long in Japan. It's another of life's small reminders that 29 isn't at all like 24. I had a three-day weekend for Memorial Day, and a coworker suggested I catch a quick flight to Belgrade - one of his favorite cities in the Balkans. Twenty-four year old me jumped on the idea, sketching out a quick 3-day itinerary and pricing it all out. Twenty-nine year old me then turned to a blank page in my notebook and jotted out ideas and things to see and do for a long weekend right here in Sarajevo.
There's not nearly as much English here as I expected. I told my coworkers how surprised I was at that. Their response: "they're all fooling you. If they're under 40, they speak English." That's a little bit how this city is - vibrant and warm and chock full of character - but also an insider's club. There's a sense of a shared experience - war still so close that the words betrayal and family and friendship mean something different, something profound. That gives Sarajevo a feeling of being on the outside for a visitor. But it seems like an exclusive club that's not closed permanently. It's one that I plan to earn my way into.
Sarajevo's old town, known as Bascarsija, is host to the city's most beloved sights. For my first few visits, I simply wandered and pointed my camera at what caught my eye.
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