Although I had traveled extensively throughout Serbia and several other former Yugoslav countries, one of the places I had yet to visit was Sarajevo. With its well-preserved Turkish quarter, mountainous host of the 1984 Winter Olympics, and the awful events that took place there during the breakup of Yugoslavia, I knew it was one place I must try to see.
With direct daily flights between Belgrade and Sarajevo, I decided to “splurge” and fly instead of taking another long bus ride. The over 10 hour bus ride (each way) to nearby Nevesinje was still painfully fresh in my mind, making it easy to rationalize that it was better to spend that time sightseeing. With only my camera bag backpack as luggage on the short flight, I was easily able to get through the airport and to m
y small hotel located in the old Turkish Baščaršija quarter of Sarajevo. From the upstairs window of the small hotel, the owner pointed out the clock tower of Bey’s Mosque just a few streets away, an excellent orientation landmark.Baščaršija
The next morning I stepped out of the hotel and onto a deserted, narrow street in the Baščaršija Turkish quarter. Across the street, early morning sunlight illuminated part of the black arched metal door. In the alley to its right, some garbage bags were piled up, awaiting city pickup. Graffiti was scrawled over the otherwise white walls of the narrow buildings. On the left side was a dilapidated store sign that looked like the shape of a baby’s pacifier. Its roof was missing and interior crumbling – one of the few buildings in the area not rebuilt after the war. Hoping to find a place to get breakfast, I headed towards the main square with the landmark Sebilj fountain I had seen the night before. Seeing that everything was still closed, I wandered through the streets for a while, peering through the store windows and taking a few architectural shots in the early light. Most of the small shops had dark wood shuttered over the window; the top part lifted up and bottom part later serving as a display shelf once opened for business. Aside from that one store near my hotel, I found the rest of the Baščaršija to be in remarkably good shape. Obviously a lot of effort had been expended to restore the
Turkish quarter to its former charm.Noticing that there were several ATM bank machines nestled amongst the traditional wooden shops, I decided to get some local money.
Walking towards the Sebilj fountain, an elderly man sitting at a café spotted me and asked if I’d like to have a Bosnian (Turkish) coffee with him. A pensioner, he supplemented his small monthly income by renting out a room in his nearby house. Although I replied that I had already booked a place for my stay, he wanted to treat me to coffee anyway. Served in traditional engraved metal containers, I added a lump of sugar, poured it into a small cup, and slowly sipped the strong coffee. A piece of Turkish Delight candy was included, and to my surprise, it was less sweet than the ones I had tasted in Belgrade. Immediately lighting another cigarette after finishing the previous one, he offered me one. I told him that I didn’t smoke. Cigarettes, he explained, were very cheap here and a vice he (and most residents) enjoyed. Hungry, I asked the man if he knew where I could find a place to eat breakfast. Turning down a nearby small street, he pointed out a place he often ate at. Serving a few varieties of soup, I selected the veal soup - a breakfast “first” for me – and had a light meal accompanied by bread. Leaving the small fast-food restaurant, we parted ways after he showed me a few good places to get some good “eats”.
Now around 9, the place was finally starting to wake up. Shop owners were arranging their wares outside their stores, the decorative embossed plates, vases, and coffee sets glistening in the morning light. On one table, gun shells were transformed into decorative souvenirs, including pens. Through the door of one shop, the rat-a-tat-tat of pounding metal broke through the tranquility of the morning. Another shop owner was hanging out shirts, flags, towels, and other items with Bosnian sports teams. Fabrics, kilims (woven rugs in traditional patterns) plants, and antiques were up for sale at other shops, now beginning to attract passersby.
Bey’s Mosque
The gate door open, I entered the courtyard of Bey’s Mosque. Built in 1530, it is one of the most significant Islamic buildings in the Balkans. On this early Friday morning, I was the only one here. Approaching the mosque, I admired the small decorative cupolas in front of the main entrance. Above the wooden door a plaque with Arabic calligraphy was prominently displayed. Carpets led up to the door and on the elevated platforms to the left and right of the door. Around the corner, I noticed a pile of woven synthetic prayer mats displaying their colorful patterns through the window. Two smaller hexagonal structures were to the left of the mosque, one the tomb of Gazi Husrev bey, considered one of the greatest military strategists and builders of Sarajevo.
In front of the mosque was a fountain covered by a wooden hexagonal structure. Built in 1893, the structure added elegance to an otherwise rather plain courtyard. Arabic writing graced the ceiling of the structure. Around the base of the fountain were water spigots, used for ritual washing. At the 1:00 prayer time, men gathered, filling the stone courtyard with mats as they worshiped and women watched through the openings within the courtyard wall.Great Eats
For lunch and supper I also ate in the Baščaršija quarter, enjoying traditional dishes including
its famous čevapi (sausages) in a pita-like bread. For extra cholesterol and taste, I included a dollop of kaymak, a buttery cream. Once again meeting a young Turkish man I had coffee with the previous day, we sat for a while and talked. The owner of the Turkish café was intrigued with my digital SLR camera, himself a former journalist and photographer during the war. Since then, he has abandoned serious photo taking. That evening after supper of more čevapi and other meat, we stopped at a Turkish pastry shop, where I sampled the baklava and another dessert that looked a bit like straw. Both were good, but not nearly as sweet as the Turkish pastries I had tasted in Belgrade. After tea, the store owner came out with pieces of cake for us, a birthday treat of one of the customers. Not that we needed anything else to eat, but we couldn’t say no….See more photos of Sarajevo on Melissa's website
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