Checking in yet again. I left Belgrade the day before yesterday and took a 6am bus to Sarajevo, after staying up all night enjoying the Belgrade nightlife (because if you’re going to leave at 6am, what’s the point in going to sleep?). Spent the day in Sarajevo, which was incredible — I wish I had more time to explore it, because it’s absolutely beautiful. I’ll post pictures soon (I know I keep saying that, but I think I finally found a computer fast enough to upload them in a reasonable amount of time). Then I took an overnight bus to Zagreb (Croatia), which is where I am now.
Oh, but I make it sound so easy. I arrived in “Sarajevo” around 1pm. Except that instead of taking me to the central Sarajevo bus terminal, which is what I had stupidly assumed when I purchased a ticket for Sarajevo, the bus stopped and kicked us all off at some tiny little station in the asscrack of nowhere, Bosnia. There was no city in sight, although there was a line of taxis, so I figured I would just get some money exchanged (all I had with me were Serbian dinars) and take one.
Heh. Now why in the world would there be a currency exchange window at an international bus station? Or even an ATM, for that matter? That would just make a little too much sense, I suppose, because there wasn’t one. Some guy told me that there was a shopping center about 300 meters away that I should walk to, because they have a bank there. So I put on my backpack (which at this point literally weighs more than I do, because my Serbian relatives sent me packing with a ton of alcoholic gifts to bring home to my family) and trudged over to the shopping center. Where the bank was closed. And where the only ATM wouldn’t accept my card. I ask at the information desk, and the guy there just kind of shrugs his shoulders and says, “Go to the bus station, ask them.” I was just at the bus station, I explain, and they said to come here. “Well, then there’s nothing I can do to help you.”
Fantastic. So I’m somewhere in Bosnia, not in walking distance to Sarajevo (I asked), with no money and apparently no way to get any. Oh, and I’m supposed to be taking the bus to Zagreb that night, but it leaves from the Sarajevo central station, so I couldn’t even stay in the boonies all day if I wanted to. I walk back to the bus station and explain my problem to the information guy, who tells me to give him all my dinars (450) and hands me a 10KM mark. Which is fine by me. I get a taxi, tell him that I only have 10KM, and ask if that will be enough to get me to the central station. He says yes. When we arrive at the central station, the meter reads 12. So I hand him the 10, and he tells me he needs two more. Oookay. I’m running around the bus station looking for another ATM, and I finally find one and give the taxi driver a 50KM mark (1KM is about equal, I think, to $1.50). Keep in mind that I had already given him 10KM, and the only way that I’m calculating the exchange rate is remembering that 450 dinars = 10 KM, and dinars are about 50 to the dollar, so 450 dinars is about 9 dollars, so Bosnian currency is almost but not quite equal to the dollar. And I’m trying to calculate all of this in my head on zero sleep and after the stress of even getting to the station in the first place. Then he hands me back 10 euros and starts to walk away. Now I’m trying to calcuate euros into the whole thing, but I know that 10 euros is definitely not enough. I chase after him and tell him that I need more change, at which point he hands me 3KM and practically runs away.
Needless to say, things in Sarajevo didn’t start out so well.
After that I swore off taking cabs. I paid a lady and her son to watch my bags at the train station (they own a little cafe, and will baby-sit your things for 1KM an hour) and attempted to mail the Serbian liquor to my dad in the states. No-go. Apparently it’s not legal to mail liquor from Bosnia to the U.S. The bottles went back into my bag, and I started the hike into town. When I finally got there, it was capuccino and pizza time, after which I was far calmer, caffeinated, and happier. And then I explored Sarajevo, which as I mentioned above, was incredible. A must-see location if you’re ever in Eastern Europe — rolling green hills, red-roofed houses, and a strong Turkish influence give it a lot of character. And I got a badly-needed haircut by a Bosnian woman who didn’t speak a word of English, which was… interesting. I wanted a trim, and demonstrated that I only wanted about 2 inches cut off and please don’t touch my bangs or layers because I have an appointment with my actual stylist in September and I am very particular about my hair… but this woman was fairly determined to do what she wanted. I showed her how much I wanted cut, and she literally shook her head “no” and proceeded to chop my hair to my shoulders, which is unfortunate because I was really enjoying having long hair. And she cut my bangs fairly short. She also blow-dried them out into a massive Kelly Kapowski wave. But at least I don’t look like I have straw growing out my head anymore.
I wish I had been able to stay in Sarajevo longer, but at 10pm that night I was on the bus to Zagreb.
And overnight buses are about as pleasant as they sound. I didn’t sleep, and someone was wearing really strong perfume that gave me a stomach ache. Then from the Zagreb bus terminal it was a 45-minute commute by tram to my hostel, which is actually quite nice. I took a long nap, and then a shower — after which I discovered that I had left my strapless bra and my favorite pair of underwear in Belgrade. Damn it. Those underwear were really soft, and pretty! I needed a new strapless bra anyway, but I’d rather not spend my time in Zagreb shopping for one. However, I refuse to be so tacky as to have bra straps hanging out everywhere, so shop for one I must. In the meantime, thank God for shelf-bra tank tops and being a proud member of the itty-bitty-titty-committee.
So those are my travel bitches. I am having an amazing time, that much should go without saying. But a little venting always feels good, yeah?
Tomorrow night I set out for Dubrovnik. More travel-blogging then, and possibly even some real blogging tonight.
{ 4 comments }
Croatia, particularly the beaches, are becoming a premium vacation destination. My Ukrainian friends and relatives go every year. :)
Sorry about your troubles, but hey, they made for an interesting post. Plus, it’s not as if I’m SUPER jealous or anything. Just somewhat-SUPER jealous.
That haircut story is one of the bravest things I’ve ever heard. You’re a hero.
Fascinating post, and yes, the troubles make it more fun to read. I mean, if all you do is say “Oh, I had this fabulous time here, and met these wonderful people here, and everyone treated me like a queen and the weather was glorious, the food divine, and the beds like sleeping on warm clouds” — well, then you’ll just arouse jealousy.
As it is, most of us probably wish we were with you, but the fact that you’re dealing with bra straps, sleeplessness, unwanted haircuts, and transportation issues tends to inspire sympathy — even in this short-haired dude who never wears bras and tries to rent cars wherever he goes.
Ah, the whole story sooooo reminds me of home…the whole “get out of your own fix, as I’m not helping, unless you pay me much more than you think you are paying”….
Watch out for alcoholic drinks. The US customs will take them and interrogate you about them. My Yugoslav friends pour them into other kinds of bottles, e.g., vinegar, shampoo, whatever, so that way you have a little bit more chance of smuggling them into the USA.
Comments on this entry are closed.