Not without fear

Part 2

A typical cabin at Auto Camp Drina

Not without an element of fear, as strangers in this city of Sarajevo, we withdraw some marks from a nearby ATM.  Neither one of us had thought to check the exchange rate.  My companion quickly googles the answer and we win our tender.

Our guide arrives in a little old Ford Fiesta.  We deposit our bags in the boot and climb in.  I am glad we had had time for that coffee.  The car revs as we climb the hills and we begin to ask some questions about the city, the country and the war.  We will get to know our guide better in the coming days.

We stop to break our fast with pita, a pastry with your choice of filling, it's 7 o'clock in the morning.  We travel on towards the the camp weaving around mountains and hills, weaving around hills admiring the scenery.  We speed on to our destination, Foča in the Republika Srpska.  When we finally reach camp we all agree that a nap would be ideal  I'm not sure I'll sleep, but the little  40 winks I steal helps me function.  Slow to move, we get up, dress and make our way to the camp below.  We're ready to eat.  

After a dirty coffee it is time to get some food.  We are served fish and potato salad.  I have never eaten fish like this.  A trout sprung from the river and fresh into the fire.  We have a few hours of downtime.

Pjescane Piramide

After a while, Lola, the camp owner suggests that we go see the pyramids.  We take the 9km ride up in the 90s Fiesta to the sand pyramids, Pjescane Piramide.  This unique structure is crumbling bit by bit.  The harsh weather cycle of snow, frost and then warmth has created this natural phenomenon.  The cliff falls away revealing the orange-red stone underneath.  We take a collection of photos on various devices, and even attempt a few panorama shots.  We are not the only tourists viewing this spectacle.  We pose a few questions, ponder a few thoughts and decide it is time to move on.  We hop in the car and manoeuvre back down the old Sarajevo road.

 Later we set off on a hill walk.  Before we go I pull on my heavy hiking boots, an investment I hope to make a lot of use of, and we get a ride to the bottom of the hills.  Led by Lola we set off.  The path rises gradually.  There are a few occupied homes at first, likely small farmers, later we see old houses and huts over one hundred years old.  We walk on, stepping on the gravel and dried mud.  Part of the path has ditches, grooves made by rainwater washing downhill.  The walk is not exactly treacherous and we admire the flora  while stumbling occasionally.  But we power on like the good troops we are.

Lola talks about the countryside, the flowers, herbs and mushrooms. interposed with snippets of information on the war.  He collects some flowers and promises to make tea for us later and tosses away a mushroom  that was deemed inedible.  We carry on.  We stop and take some photos as a group, and then some photos of the Bosnian family.

We begin to descend and make our way over fences but pausing to enjoy the view of the mighty mountains, however, the Maglic is obscured by clouds.  We slip through a graveyard, pausing to deliberate the deaths of some of the cemetery's occupants.  Souls lost in The Great War, World War II and the Bosnian War.  Some people had lived to a ripe old age, some had been cut down in their prime.  The gravestones' have the likeness of each person.  One gravestone depicting an elderly couple states the man's date of death, however, there is a blank under the woman's image.  Why?  We ask.  Well, the woman is likely still alive.

As we continue on our way we meet the odd vehicle ascending the slope.  Is it a road or a path I am not entirely sure.  The sun is dipping behind the mountainous hills and the light is fading.  The moon imbues the countryside with a beautiful blue glow.  We pass through dense patches of foliage swarmed by clusters of fireflies in the pitch black.  We admire them and they dance around before each carries on their own way.  As Foča comes into view below I admire the clusters of glowing light, out of focus they look a little like the fireflies.  I stop and take an low quality image of this image so that I might have something to remember it with.  It does not do it justice, but then photographs seldom do.  Suddenly I follow the group into someone's back garden descending a sharp slope.  Their dog barks at this sudden intrusion, our guides chat to the lady of the house before we step out of the garden onto the road.  We march along the main road for a short while chatting to Lola.  He relays a few stories, sadly none of his own, on heaven and hell.  Bosnia is like heaven for him he tells us.  We reach our camp.

As promised, Lola prepares tea for us,  His tea is made from the plucked treasures of his hill walk.  I finish the fish I was not able to stomach earlier and we discuss the possibility of sampling the nightlife of Foča.  Filip takes us into town, it is alive with the rhythm and pump of Balkan vibes.  Some bars have live music.  We move around keen to soak up as much of the local scene as possible.  We even wander into the local disco, Black and White, before tackling our hunger with some pastry and making our way to a taxi and back to camp.  The day may have started off with a little fearful apprehension but here, we are in safe hands.