We encountered this unusual memorial while walking through Sarajevo and it commemorates the French military personnel who died while serving in Bosnia and Herzegovina. The work is Les Gardiens de l’Espace by the French sculptor Xavier Dambrine and consists of five distorted cast-iron figures arranged around a circular platform. It is not an especially comforting work, but it is a reminder of the tragedy that unfolded across Bosnia and Herzegovina in the 1990s.
Seen from the other direction, the figures appear almost to be gathered in a circle while remaining isolated from one another. I’m not entirely sure what interpretation Dambrine intended, but this didn’t feel like a representation of military figures so much as one of more general sorrow. That ambiguity, at least to me, made the work all the more powerful.
Sarajevo has no shortage of monuments connected with the conflict, although this comparatively secluded memorial acknowledges a group of casualties who can be overlooked among the much greater suffering experienced by the people of Bosnia and Herzegovina. Its location is also appropriate, standing opposite the French Embassy and beside a peaceful park.
The adjoining plaque lists the dead by year, beginning in 1992 and continuing beyond the end of the Bosnian War as French personnel remained involved in international peacekeeping operations. It records that the memorial was inaugurated by President Jacques Chirac on 7 April 1998 and erected at its present location on 12 April 2005. The plaque made the purpose of the work considerably clearer to me and turned what had initially seemed like an intriguing collection of figures into something much more sombre.
In an attempt to move on this blog, I will leave Sarajevo behind in a bid to get to Mostar and indeed perhaps one day to the end of this trip. Anyway, this is Sarajevo coach station and it probably needs a little bit of updating.
Our coach pulled in at platform 11 and a number of passengers invited themselves on board. I remained cautious as I didn’t have permission and I believe in a rules-based society. Anyway, the driver came over from the cafe and threw all these passengers off and I felt validated. There was a minor moment of concern when the driver asked for the slip that came with our paper tickets and I had separated that thinking it was a card receipt. Fortunately, I had kept them otherwise Jonathan and I might not have been going very far.
Safely boarded and the bus was nearly full, but at least it was spacious and not some rickety little minibus that the coach company had found from somewhere.
I had acquired a healthy drink from the bus station shop.
And some healthy crisps. Well, maybe not entirely healthy. Fortunately, I had purchased two packs as I managed to eat one whilst waiting for the coach to leave Sarajevo.
The town of Konjic.
Lake Jablanica, an artificial reservoir created in 1953 during the construction of Jablanica Dam.
The village of Ostrožac.
A little further down the valley.
The village of Jablanica.
This really was a beautiful coach journey and I was fortunate to have picked the right side of the vehicle to sit on to get the best views. To excite and delight my loyal blog readers, there are numerous videos that I took so I’m sure that’ll be the highlight of many people’s days for weeks to come.
And safely into Mostar where we promptly discovered that there was no Wi-Fi, so I was in an immediate mood. I accept that the tourist board of Bosnia and Herzegovina might think that I should focus on the view, but sometimes the Internet is too important not to focus on.
One of the Roman exhibits at the National Museum of Bosnia and Herzegovina is this limestone funerary monument, discovered at Borčani near modern Tomislavgrad. It dates from around AD 130 to 170, when the area formed part of the Roman province of Dalmatia. I take photos of every gravestone in churchyards from before 1800, so I couldn’t find a reason not to take a photo of this and witter on about it.
The inscription begins with the letters D M, an abbreviation of Dis Manibus, meaning “to the spirits of the dead”. It records that Publius Aelius Varro dedicated the monument to his mother Dasto and his sister Paiio. Publius does not tell us what his mother or sister were like, unfortunately, although even the Romans presumably recognised that there was only so much room available on the stone. He simply states that it was erected as a token of affection and, in fairness, it’s lasted remarkably well.
Without being morbid, I don’t want a gravestone. My friend Liam will instead be busy scattering me around the world in a list of locations that I regularly update, requiring him to undertake an extensive international tour which I hope he doesn’t moan about. But if I did had a gravestone, I’d be very pleased if it survived for nearly 2,000 years. I hope he realises that even death will apparently not release Liam from the administrative burden of being my friend……
When looking for lunch in Sarajevo after a busy morning of museum visiting, we thought that we’d pop into this restaurant, Ćevabdžinica Zmaj Stanica, located near the coach station as it was well reviewed and looked interesting. We were told that we could sit anywhere and a waiter came to take our order promptly, so we weren’t left waiting for long.
There was a reasonable selection on the menu and I went for the large chicken schnitzel with a bottle of Coke.
This isn’t really what is usually called chicken schnitzel, even in Bosnia, but it was hot, filling and inoffensive. I’m not sure that this was much of a taste sensation, but it wasn’t expensive and it seemed healthy and freshly prepared. Jonathan had some sort of decadent steak as it was keenly priced so not an option that he’d order at home and he was surprised and delighted at the whole arrangement. There was some bread supplied to the table, although I found the combination a little dry.
My Coke never arrived so I chased that up and the whole ordering and payment system was perhaps a little erratic. It seemed to be going wrong in a few places, although the food was served promptly. It’s nice to see this sort of open kitchen set-up so that we could watch our food being prepared. The team members were always polite and friendly, although they were often quite rushed when it got busy.
Birds playing on the table outside, seemingly having a lovely time. Another advantage of the restaurant is that they have plenty of seating, both inside and outside. I think Jonathan was planning to sit outside, but we somehow ended up inside when he wasn’t looking. I’d also add that everything was clean and tidy, with team members busily cleaning down surfaces on a regular basis.
This restaurant has been here for decades, it’s welcoming, it’s open for very long hours and it was reasonably priced, so I’d actually come here again. It’s a bit like a fast food option, the quality might not be impeccable, but it feels sufficiently reliable to visit. It also seems that there has been a new development that the restaurant has started to take cards, which made payment rather easier.
Scattered across Sarajevo are around 200 memorials embedded in the pavement, known as Sarajevo Roses. Each preserves the scar left when a mortar shell exploded during the Siege of Sarajevo between 1992 and 1996. The crater was later filled with red resin, preserving the damage rather than removing it and turning part of the ordinary pavement into a memorial.
The name comes from the pattern produced when a mortar shell struck concrete or asphalt, sending cracks and fragments outwards in a shape resembling the petals of a flower. Officially marked roses generally identify places where at least three people were killed, with the red filling representing the bloodshed. Many have faded, been damaged or disappeared during later resurfacing, while others have been restored and protected.
It was Jonathan that pointed these out to me and they are a strikingly visual reminder of the suffering Sarajevo endured during the siege. What felt quite powerful about these memorials is that they are not separated from everyday life behind railings or inside a museum. They remain beneath people’s feet, quietly forcing the violence of the past into the present day and for visitors, that can come at quite unexpected times when exploring the city.
Among the exhibits in the natural history galleries of the National Museum of Bosnia and Herzegovina was this lion, although it appeared to have been assembled by someone working from a description supplied over the telephone. The elongated face, wide eyes and unexpectedly modest mane gave it less the commanding presence of the king of the beasts and more the expression of a slightly startled dog that had just heard someone opening a packet of biscuits.
Taxidermy is an unforgiving business, particularly when the finished specimen is expected to represent an animal normally associated with strength and dignity for decades to come. This lion may not communicate quite the intended degree of menace, but it was certainly memorable and quickly became one of my favourite exhibits. There is something rather endearing about a museum lion that looks as surprised to be there as the visitors are to find it.
This photograph will also be a useful addition to my collection of Artichoke Hearts bar billiards memes, particularly for those occasions when Luke the Lion performs rather more like Luke the Mildly Alarmed Labrador.
This fragment of stone in the National Museum of Bosnia and Herzegovina came from the base of an honorary monument discovered at Tasovčići, near Čapljina in southern Bosnia and Herzegovina. It was erected to celebrate Octavian’s victory over Sextus Pompey in Sicily in 36 BC, although that perhaps rather understates the amount of fighting involved. I got rather muddled up with all these Caesars, but Octavian styled himself Imperator Caesar Divi Filius, meaning something like “Commander Caesar, son of the divine one”. The divine one was Julius Caesar, who had adopted Octavian as his son and heir and was officially declared a god after his death. Rather nice really.
The monument was erected by two brothers, Gaius Papius Celsus and Marcus Papius Canus. Researchers believe that they were probably merchants associated with nearby Narona, an important Roman settlement and trading centre on the River Neretva. Publicly honouring Octavian may have expressed gratitude or political loyalty, although it probably did the brothers no harm to advertise that they had supported the emerging winner. Some things never change.
Only part of the inscription survives, but there is still enough to preserve the names of the brothers and the ruler they wanted to impress. Octavian would go on to become one of the most famous people in history, while the Papius brothers are remembered largely because they paid for what was effectively a very durable press release.
As for why I stared at this for far too long, I liked the thought that it was erected more than 2,000 years ago, survived everything that followed and is now safely displayed in a museum. Admittedly, a few pieces have fallen off, but after that length of time it is entitled to have developed some minor structural concerns.
I don’t like snakes. It’s nothing personal, it’s just that they seem very scary to me, so I do my best to stay well away from them. Unless they’re in zoos or dead ones in museums, then I’m quite intrigued by them. The National Museum of Bosnia and Herzegovina had quite a collection of them, so, for the sake of completeness, I thought that I’d take a photo of them all.
Here are a couple of grass snakes playing. Grass snakes are strong swimmers and the name of their genus, Natrix, comes from the Latin for a water snake, probably influenced by the word natare, meaning to swim so this means that even entering the water is no guarantee of escaping them, which seems like a serious design flaw.
A dice snake. Its scientific name, Natrix tessellata, means something like tiled or mosaic-patterned, referring to the square markings which give the snake its dice-like appearance. It spends much of its time in or near water and feeds mainly on fish.
Two Balkan whip snakes. The word whip refers to their long, slender bodies and considerable speed rather than any tendency to whip passing museum visitors. They are non-venomous, which is a modest source of reassurance.
A Caspian whip snake playing with a mouse. This is one of Europe’s largest snakes and particularly substantial individuals can exceed two metres in length. The mouse appears to be having a less enjoyable game.
A Dahl’s whip snake. Its name honours the Austrian naturalist Georg Dahl, who collected the specimen used to describe it in Dalmatia in 1824.
Two smooth snakes which take this name because their scales lack the raised central ridges found on many other snakes. Their scientific name, Coronella, means little crown and probably refers to the dark marking on the top of the head.
An Aesculapian snake which is named after Aesculapius, or Asclepius, the ancient god of medicine whose staff entwined by a snake remains a medical symbol today. These snakes are also excellent climbers so the bloody things can lunge off trees if necessary.
A European rat snake which is also known as the leopard snake because of its blotched markings. It is non venomous and feeds on rodents, hence its name.
A four-lined snake and the name comes from the four dark stripes running along the bodies of adults, although younger snakes begin life with blotches.
A European cat snake and this takes its name from its vertical pupils, which resemble those of a cat. It is rear fanged and mildly venomous, because having unsettling eyes was evidently not considered enough.
An eastern Montpellier snake. The Montpellier part of the name was inherited from its western relative, whose scientific name refers to the French city. It is another rear fanged snake, although serious encounters with humans are uncommon when both parties behave sensibly.
Two nose-horned vipers and the horn is made from soft scales and is not a weapon, although the rest of the venomous snake remains quite sufficient.
Two European adders. The name developed when the old expression ‘a nadder’ was gradually redivided into ‘an adder’. It is the only venomous snake native to Britain, although Bosnia appears to offer a considerably wider selection for anyone dissatisfied with that.
A meadow viper and its scientific name, Vipera ursinii, honours the Italian naturalist Antonio Orsini. Unlike many vipers, it feeds heavily on insects such as grasshoppers and crickets, making it slightly less alarming provided that you are not a grasshopper.
There seem to be an awful lot of snakes in this region and I’m glad that I only visited the museum after walking around the countryside, where it appears that all these reptiles are slithering about without supervision. I accept that most snakes are probably perfectly well behaved, but it is the troublesome minority that concerns me.
After our excitement at the former bobsleigh track at Mount Trebević, I put food to the front of my mind, once again, and I thought that Trio Cuisines would be a marvellous choice. There was a nice outside area that Jonathan was eyeing up, but we somehow ended up sitting inside.
It was quite busy when we entered, but I took this photo towards the end of the meal when it was a little quieter. The surroundings were clean and modern, the team members were friendly and they had air conditioning. After trudging around the city in the heat, this was most welcome.
The restaurant serves three different styles of cuisine, hence its name, including Middle Eastern, Italian and I think Bosnian, although it wasn’t entirely clear to me. Calling a chicken biryani Middle Eastern is perhaps pushing culinary geography to its limits, but there are historical trade links if I’m being generous.
I went for the chicken biryani and that inspired Jonathan to have the same which I privately thought was a bit sub-optimal, but I didn’t say anything. The Fanta and Coke are both mine, I’m not sure how Jonathan ploughed through all of that without a drink. Anyway, the basmati rice was light and fluffy, looking suitably colourful and appetising. The chicken was on the bone, which I think is a slight faff, but that minor poultry grievance aside, the chicken was tender and the sauce was rich in flavour. It was served as a large portion, with a side dish of mango achar to add some extra taste.
I liked it here, the prices were reasonable, the food was decent and it was a comfortable place to sit before we hiked up the hill to find our next apartment. I’m the last person to complain about hot weather and hills, but I wasn’t entirely looking forward to the next part of our adventure.
After travelling up Mount Trebević by cable car rather than tiring ourselves out, Jonathan and I walked to the remains of Sarajevo’s Olympic bobsleigh and luge track. The reinforced-concrete course was built after Sarajevo won the right to host the 1984 Winter Olympics, with construction beginning in 1981 and finishing the following year. It runs for approximately 1,300 metres through the forest and contains thirteen bends, which looked interesting enough at walking speed and presumably rather more consequential when approached in a bobsleigh. I like to think that this is something that I would have been good at, but, realistically, I would have tried to go down as slowly as possible and I’m not sure how practical that is.
The track staged the 1983 European Bobsleigh Championships as a rehearsal before hosting the bobsleigh and luge events at the 1984 Winter Olympics. Around 30,000 spectators attended the Olympic bobsleigh competition and another 20,000 watched the luge, while East Germany dominated the bobsleigh events by winning both gold medals. The Games are still remembered with considerable affection in Sarajevo, making it rather strange to see one of their principal venues standing silent and covered in graffiti only a few kilometres from the city centre.
The concrete visible today was never intended to be the actual racing surface. Refrigeration pipes embedded beneath it cooled the course before workers repeatedly sprayed it with water, gradually building and shaping a smooth layer of ice. The bends then guided the sleds around the course at speeds which made accurate steering rather important. Without the refrigeration system, the track is simply a long concrete channel, although this had the considerable advantage of allowing us to walk along its entire length and I am barely capable of walking on ice at the best of times.
Some of the concrete sections appear to shoot away from the main course, but these were apparently part of a particularly clever feature of the original design. Mechanical switching blocks allowed the track to be divided into three shorter, independent courses for training and recreational use. The first could leave the main run after bend three, the second after bend seven and the third continued through the fastest lower portion, including bends known as Omega, the Hairpin and the Labyrinth. Different starting points were also used for bobsleigh and the various luge events, as it was considered unnecessary to give every competitor the full opportunity to terrify themselves. I’m not sure that I can visualise how all this worked as the bits of concrete are in opposite directions, but I’m sure it made sense once.
After the Olympics, the track continued to host international competitions, but that sporting future ended during the Bosnian War. Mount Trebević became a strategically important position during the Siege of Sarajevo and Bosnian Serb forces used parts of the track as artillery and defensive positions overlooking the city. Holes were cut through the concrete walls and the start buildings, refrigeration plant, pipes and switching equipment were badly damaged or destroyed. Limited restoration began in 2014 after the surrounding area had been cleared of mines, allowing the surviving course to be used for summer luge training, which uses wheels rather than ice, as well as walking and mountain biking.
The concrete structure remains sufficiently intact that complete restoration is technically possible, and several proposals have been made to return it to competitive use. Unfortunately, replacing the refrigeration system, start houses and switching equipment while meeting modern safety standards would amount to an expensive reconstruction rather than a modest repair. Plans connected with a possible Barcelona-Pyrenees bid for the 2030 Winter Olympics did not progress after that bid fell away, so for now the track remains an extraordinary mixture of Olympic venue, war ruin, street-art gallery and woodland footpath.
For anyone wanting to see the track as it was in 1984, this is quite an exciting video. I hadn’t realised that it was possible to walk the entire length of the track, which surprised and delighted me. Given that, I wanted to include quite a few photos which I’m sure is a treat of sorts for my extensive readership of about three. Apologies that I haven’t captioned every photo, but it’s going to be hard to come with unique commentary for random bits of luge track.
