Weekend in Sarajevo

My friend John put me up for the weekend at his place in Sarajevo, where he's working for the time being. I owe him one for such an eye-opening experience.

The city itself is a little worn around the edges. The buildings still bear the scars of the 1992-1995 Bosnian War and the 44-month siege by Serbian forces, one of the longest in modern military history. The pockmarks of bullet holes and big rosettes gouged out of concrete by tank rounds are pretty common on the buildings in the center of town and along the main boulevard to the airport. Even now, the former president of the Serbian Republic is on trial in The Hauge for war crimes resulting from that conflict.

Red brick and white marble are everywhere in Sarajevo: red brick terra cotta-style building blocks for rebuilding and patching up, and white marble for the many Islamic grave markers in the ubiquitous cemeteries in the city. The brick serves just as well to make a wall on a new addition as it does to patch up a hole left from gunfire. The white marble comes in small obelisks. Every other city block, it seems, has a graveyard and most of the tombstones date from the war. About 10,000 people were killed there, just over a tenth of them children.

In the central part of the newer part of the city is a memorial to all the children killed in the war, along with rotating metal cylinders that bear all their names.

What you don't find in Sarajevo is a McDonald's. Or a Burger King or a Starbucks or a Gap, for that matter. The future is uncertain, which mitigates against a lot of investment there. The Republika Sprska, the Serbian portion of Bosnia-Herzegovina, is threatening to withdraw from the country, which could lead to more violence. Plus corruption is rampant. The cost of doing business there inevitably includes kickbacks and greased palms.

Put all that aside and Sarajevo seemed like a pretty vibrant city. People filled the streets. The shops are full of consumer goods, though mostly clothing and not much, from what I could see, in the way of electronics other than cell phones, for example. While the city may seem tattered, its people are for the most part youthful. Like other European cities, especially the old city centers, Sarajevo loves its outdoor cafes. The old district near Ghazi Husrev-Gye's Mosque is lined with coffee shops where customers fill shopfront benches or sit on stools and sip espresso.

In another part of town, old men gather in a central park to play chess on a checkerboard pattern of tiles. It draws a pretty good crowd and the onlookers and players alike shout at one another, apparently commenting on the moves or offering advice.

Not far away is the central market, where a mortar attack in 1994 killed 68 people and finally drew NATO into the fight. Across the street are a small group of men and women with produce for sale on the sidewalk. This is one of my favorite shots.


Every once in a while you'll find someone smoking a hookah. Like these four guys. First on the left doesn't look like he wants his picture taken, but like everyone else I photographed, I asked first.

Bug Hunt! Goes Balkan

No trip abroad would be complete without an expedition to track down the wily feline. This edition of "Bug Hunt! Photographic Chronicles of the Common House Cat" took to the streets of Sarajevo. The hunt here was superb. This is a cat town.

This handsome specimen popped out of grated opening in the wall around Ghazi Husrev-Bey's Mosque. He's about the healthiest looking animal in the whole town. The usual riff-raff there are pretty scrawny looking and kinda dirty.



These two characters squared off for a showdown on the wall beneath John's apartment. They commenced howling just after the morning call to prayer that issues over the loudspeakers from the mosques in town, a memorable experience at 7 a.m. when you hear it the first time. Not so much if you've been living there several months.


That's all for now.

Word from Our Sponsor - Britain Votes - Oxburgh Hall - The Westie

May arrived on a sunny Saturday, which seemed somehow appropriate. With it came the second edition of the PRT Paktya newsletter, Double Tap, which features some photographs of team members and an account of a convoy ambush in April. The link takes you to the old Turtle Drove site, where a link to the newsletter is posted. No friendly casualties were suffered in the April fight and the hostiles were driven off. A more recent encounter ended with four dead insurgents and again no friendly casualties. Keep those team members in your prayers.

The Strange Case of Mr. Brown

The Labour Party appears to be on its way to losing its grip on Parliament and the prime minister's residence in this country, a hold it's held for 13 years. Unless, as the polls seem to predict, the election results in a hung Parliament, with no one party able to elect its leader PM. The Labourites were on the ropes already when Gordon Brown, incumbent PM and party leader, forgot to turn off his mike as he drove away from a campaign meet-and-greet last week. Hence the now fabled Bigotgate. Yes, the Brits have stolen the -gate suffix and affixed it to anything remotely scandalous politically. BBC Newsnight summoned crack animators to recreate the incident here.

The Conservatives (the Tories, that is) have fielded Rory Stewart, author of The Places in Between and The Prince of the Marshes to run for a seat in Parliament representing a district in barren Yorkshire. His book on Afghanistan, Places, about his walk from one end of the country to other, is an inspiring book not only for the feat itself but also for his pedestrian take on Afghanistan. It's worth a look. Kelley and I met Stewart at a talk he gave in Anchorage, where he signed our copies of his books. Interesting guy. He was particularly critical of the Allied approach to "managing" the war and reconstruction in Afghanistan, where he created an NGO to help craftspeople in Kabul.

All the fuss comes to an end this week when Britain votes. Coincidentally, Michael Caine is making the talk show rounds and interview circuit on behalf of his new movie, Harry Brown, about a codger who goes all Dirty Harry on Elephant and Castle. Caine, who I ran into once on a street in Santa Fe, says he's voting Tory out of principle. Not political principle, but the principle that he only expects two terms out of the elected leadership and no more, as far as he's concerned.

Religion in the Gutter

The weekend road trip took me to Oxburgh Hall, a National Trust property about 25 miles from here. The place was built in the 15th century and belonged to a Catholic family that managed to hang onto it, and their lives, during the period in which Henry VIII dismantled the religion in England and outlawed its practice. The Bedingfields were big dogs in London, one was apparently the equivalent of lord mayor and another was responsible for holding Princess Elizabeth prisoner for a spell. So they walked a fine line, loyal to the throne on one hand but barely tolerated Catholics on the other.

They were devout, nonetheless, but in those days to welcome a priest onto your estate to celebrate Mass was to court death. So the house has a priest hole, a handy hidden compartment into which the celebrant could duck should the authorities come a knockin'. The hiding place is in a brick tower just off a second-floor bed chamber where Henry VII once stayed the night. In fact, it's in the garderobe, another name for the latrine. To reach the hiding place, about the size of a walk-in closet, the fugitive needed to crawl into the hole over which one sat to do his or her business, wriggle over the shaft that opened into the waste-water treatment facility below, aka the moat, and into the hiding place. The tour guide added that naturally, white vestments weren't so white after the trip. Photos inside the property were forbidden. The photo up top is an outside shot.

West End

Finally, allow me to close with the last of the tour of Ely locals, the word Brits use to describe their favorite watering hole within walking distance.

The West End is, predictably, on Ely's west side. It's a free house, I think, and my favorite draft here is usually a Guiness. It has an outdoor area, or beer garden, and judging by the aircraft photographs hanging indoors is popular with the flying community from RAF Mildenhall and RAF Lakenheath. The Westie is a warren of rooms from which the same bar is accessible on three different fronts. The ceilings are low, so watch your head. It's a neat, well kept place with a friendly atmosphere. "And not a cheap clip joint for picking up tarts."

Til next time.