I had always had a positive connotation towards Sarajevo. For whatever reason, the Bosnian capital is in my list of places – including Tbilisi, Budapest and a few others – that, I’m convinced, cannot harbor any fathead.
This belief has exposed me to a number of burning delusions – hear me, Ireland? – but in it generally holds true, for Sarajevans were amongst the most delightful people I spent time with in the Balkans. This city of veterans, because this is what they are, goes to an effort to put up a strong, tough image – the shelled-out buildings, the cemeteries, the maniacs at the wheel of big Beemers, the Horde Zla graffiti cladding the FK Sarajevo stadium – but dig deeper and one will find a welcoming populace made of cheeky smiles, welcoming antics and kindness.
This post concludes my series on Sarajevo and Bosnia-Herzegovina, but I will be back very soon. October, in facts.