Rivers That Stretch, Gorges That Tower And Bridges That Stand

Part III

A knock on the door stirs the senses.  Heavy eyelids are pushed up as the body slowly drifts out of slumber. The duvet is torn aside and the legs swing over the edge of the bed.  It is already morning and already bright. 

Filip is at our door fresh as a daisy. 'Sorry I had to wake you,' he tells us, 'but they told me you have to get up, get breakfast and ready.'

My movements are lethargic but after a dirty coffee, I feel that I am ready for life.

We are going to canoe down the river Drina. There had been talk of rafting, but thankfully, to my secret exaltation, there are too few to go rafting. So, we are going on the canoe which is ample excitement for me.  I liberally apply sun lotion. It is hot today and the sun is intense. We get our wet suits, life jackets and shoes and climb into the back of the Fiesta. In a Yugo 4 x 4, our fellow tourists set off and we follow. We travel quite a bit away, pockmarked and twisting roads.  Later we learn we were not far from the Montenegrin border.

The canoes are inflated. We watch a group of chilled beer guzzlers ride a crude raft down the river. There is a chorus of cheers. Solidarity of man in nature. 

We step into the water. It is cold.

I am not used to the water. I cannot swim. I try to get accustomed to the chill, lying and drifting in the hope of calming my nerves. But this will be a baptism if fire.

I dip into the water hoping my fear of not being able to swim will evaporate, it does not but we cannot wait any longer. I am directed to sit in the middle. Clutching my paddle I climb aboard. We wait, the three of us until a little distance come between us and the other group. Slowly we begin our journey ca. 25km of river. The river is gentle at first but I paddle with nervous anticipation. Every once in a while Filip tells us to stop and we admire the beautiful Bosnian countryside. At various points there are clusters of people by the river enjoying the sun or the shade, picnics, barbecues and water sports. Some cheer and some yell as we drift by. 

What did they say we ask? 

'Oh,' Filip replies, 'they asked us if we would like to join them for a beer.'

When we meet the rapids I tense up. I hug the bench,clenched between my legs and my backside, I do not want to fall out. They are not overly rough and while I get a surge of adrenaline I do worry my fellow paddlers are a little underwhelmed or even bored. It is sufficiently exciting for me!

We catch up on the other crew and pose for a few pictures. We have already travelled 10km. The worst is over. We can relax now it seems. We climb back in and carry on. Soon the other group slip out of view. We go on and on, the temperature drops and the sun has gone. A canopy of dark grey clouds covers us. There is a storm brewing. The weather breaks and the rains comes, drops at first and then a downpour. The thunder rolls and the lightening flashes. Unsure what our best course of action ought to be, we paddle on.  No one has brought a phone because of the chance of water damage.

Pelted by rain, and feeling fresh after a whipping, we reach the camp, Filip's father takes a picture and we wave our paddles like the mad seamen we are.

The rest of the evening involves, a shower, a change, food followed by rest and relaxation. There is also cake.

Our time in Bosnia Herzegovina is almost at an end. We have one more full day here before moving on to Dubrovnik.  The weather is not so good so we decide to give the national park a miss. On the walk on Saturday, Lola had mentioned an ancient bridge. Believing it to be nearby a short walk down the road we make a plan.

We travel to Višegrad.

Filip alerts to various speed traps and also fondly reminisces where he received his first ticket from the police. He even points out the location to us.

We get to Višegrad and park to take  a few pictures. We climb the slippery, jagged steps to a vantage point. We stop and admire the view. A little cat wanders over to us, curious and maybe hungry.  It begins to rain and so we hastily rush down to the car. We drive on to Andricgrad for some lunch.

Several sad stray dogs wander around. Some of them pause and stare before plodding on.

We dine and wander around the cobbled streets. A film of rainwater covers the stone making it treacherous and slippy. We step into a bookshop and I buy a copy of The Bridge Over The Drina. On the street Filip draws our attention to a mural above the cinema which depicts several heroes including Gavrilo Princip. We pass through a little tunnel, an artist sketches various personalities, some living some dead. Do you know who that is? Filip asks, 'How about him?' 'That is Nikola Tesla.' I tell him.

We step into a bakery and indulge in some sweet pastries. On the wall a painted picture of Vladimir Puten beams down on us.  Why have they got Putin on the wall? Because Putin stands up for Serbs. 

We debate the other personalities depicted, Castro, Che Guevara. Afterwards we are back on the street admiring fountains and statues, and wander into an Orthodox church. It is not yet finished.

We make our way back to the car, a small child scratches a rough looking dog on its belly. 

Filip drives us to up to health spa for the sulphur baths.  There, I get a swimming lesson.  It is 60 minutes of terror but towards the end my tense body does begin to relax.

We take the route back to the famous bridge for some more pictures.  A little gypsy boy bursts into song while we take pictures.  He is not looking for anything, he sings for the pure joy of singing.

We are quiet and tired on the way back to Foča.

At the camp we eat and drink and I try to impress some people with my few words of Bosnian aided by a printout. I pick up a few other useful words and phrases. And there is more cake. We have not really discussed or planned our trip to Dubrovnik but presumably there are several busses.  We agree on this notion and push it to the back of our minds.

There is one bus from Trebinje to Dubrovnik and it leaves at 09:30.

Our bus leaves Foča at half past three. We decide to take a cursory glance at the local museum.

At the museum we learn about how people lived in olden times, the traditional dress hung on one wall surrounded by cooking utensils and other tools. We also learn about the involvement of Bosnia in both World Wars, Tito and the rumours of fake Tito and his bad Serbian and of crimes committed against Serbs, murders and atrocities in the Bosnian war. There are weapons and tools on display. We cut our tour short as we have to rush to the bus station. We say our goodbyes and thanks.  We sip overpriced coca-cola from glass bottles purchased in the adjoining café.  

Our bus pulls in and we dive for the back seat.  For the next four hours we'll be boxed in here as the countryside rolls by.