Sara in Sarajevo. Flag Day 2011, the year she can run for president.

A recent horoscope asked me to consider foreshadowings in my childhood or adolescence, signs of magic to come, capacities and commitment. While wandering, I've been considering this for a few days. I think it is quite simple. I have always loved to learn. I think my whole life has been a project in learning as much as I could. Extended travel is one of the best teachers. In daily interactions with new people and new places, I'm filled up with ideas and joy at what I experience. So full, it is as if I am holding my breath in wonder.

I've been saying I was thirty-five for several months now. It wasn't a conscious decision but it was what came out of my mouth. (Perhaps ingrained from childhood, when I couldn't wait to be the next year up.) Now the day is here. And I am in Sarajevo. A city I recall in the news from high school. It is a city of surprises. Feels simultaneously large and small, cozily situated in a valley with the river Miljacka running through. Destruction and beauty weave throughout. War-damaged rundown buildings pervade, yet the city is so tidy I know residents take pride in their city. I am glad to be here on this day.

SARAJEVO:

(the hostel I'm staying in is like a home- we even take our shoes off outside the door.)

(a courtyard to apartments)

(the old town has a touristy feel but it is not overrun)

(old guys are always drinking coffee and talking)

(it is maybe hard to see, but many of the buildings have bullet damage)

(I was surprised how much the city reminded me of Turkey)

(here is where the journalists stayed during the Bosnian war, and there was a sniper zone in front of it)

(I see beauty in destruction)

(Sarajevo, though large, is situated in a valley which is delightful for wandering- it's I think impossible to get lost, you just go down and look around... I've been walking the hills for a couple days now and I could do this for quite a while)

Mostar, Bosnia

In 1993 during the Bosnian war, this town's 1557 bridge was blown up, but later rebuilt. A small photo exhibit showed footage of it being blown up. It's heartbreaking because I know where I was sitting when these things were happening and I remember the news stories.

There are still quite a lot of damaged buildings throughout the city, but they are beautiful in their own way. I always have a soft spot for damaged buildings, but I am in my own process of deconstruction and rebuilding, so I think my affinity is even higher for places which feel the same. Not that I wish to create beauty through war damage, but there is beauty in everything.

I asked this couple with a hand gesture if it was ok to take their picture, and they said ok.

There's also still quite a lot of buildings bricked up like this.

Most of the stones were 1993 or 1994.

Leaving Mostar. The train station.

Sisters from Hong Kong who I met while in Dubrovnik. They were were also on their way to Sarajevo. The older sister was studying economics in Vienna.

From the train window I.

From the train window II.

From the train window III.

Shoes.

I noticed I had sat in this seat number.

And tomorrow I should be sitting in this seat number.

Arrival in Sarajevo's train station.

A drive Croatia and Bosnia war zone. Thanks, GPS.

Two days ago, Carrie and I punched Bihac, Bosnia into our GPS and set off from Istra Peninsula in Croatia to Bihac, which was supposed to be up and coming and outdoorsy. We turned off the main highway onto these little roads, and then to a really tiny road on the left which no one else appeared to be going on. What follows is our drive through the former war area of Croatia.

The shock of the landscape and desolation was hard to comprehend. We were both holding our breath and whispering as we drove along, hardly believing what we were seeing. I think especially since we had no idea we'd be going through that area, it really impacted us. For a long time afterward, Carrie and I both felt so strange, like we'd seen something we shouldn't have. Like we'd driven through a land of ghosts. And actually we had.



We were driving to Bosnia and thought this looked a little a like Deliverance... or West Virginia or Missisippi. Reversed to take a photo.

Then ran into these signs... ?? Course we don't speak Croatian. Is that even the language? I don't know. We wondered if it was mines or something.

Just about a mile up the road was this sign... Mines, yes. Very weird. Very creepy. We were about the only ones on this road.

Every time we would see an area that looked like "normal" farmland with houses, when we looked closer, we'd see that they were about 95% abandonded.

Steps to nowhere.

Cratered landscape went on for miles and miles.

This was a whole town empty.

Memorial on the door. Some people had spray painted their phone numbers on the sides of empty houses also.

A little town in Bosnia, Bihac, where we stayed the night. It felt more like third world Asia in most ways than Eastern Europe.

We saw several of these white vehicles. They said "Mine removal" on the side.

More of Bihac, Bosnia.

Strange to see signs for Sarajevo since Carrie and I both remember that war time.

Leaving Bosnia. This actually looks like Germany.

The road to/from the Bosnian border in Croatia. Not especially confidence inspiring. Actually the whole mine/war road was like this, even worse, with large potholes. We wondered if it was unsafe to repair.

Look at all the people stuffed in this Yugo. They were everywhere. The Yugos.

Isn't that guy cute? Carrie and I love old guys. Sorry Grandma, he appeared to have a wife in the passenger seat.

Finally, a home depot cousin in Croatia. Carrie was so happy. Then we jetted out out of Croatia and Bosnia back to the land of our love, Slovenia.