I only knew two people who had been to Mostar prior to my trip into Bosnia. One had been there in the late 1980s when Bosnia was still part of the former country of Yugoslavia, before the civil war began, and said it was a lovely city. The other (whose judgment was highly questionable), had been in the post-war era and said that it was a dive.
My opinion of Mostar didn’t fall into either of those categories. Mostar definitely wasn’t lovely and I had my doubts that it was ever lovely, even before its almost total destruction prior to the civil war. But I didn’t think it was fair to call it a dive either. Maybe if you’d visited it not long after the end of the civil war, before the Old Bridge had been rebuilt, when the streets were littered with rubble caused by all the bombs and bullets, it wouldn’t have been very pleasant. But why visit a city following the immediate aftermath of the war unless you were coming over as an aid worker to try and help rebuild the city and help people? I could see no reason why anyone would want to visit, as a tourist, a city that had recently been practically flattened by war.
I can’t say I particularly liked Mostar, but it was certainly one of the most fascinating places I visited on my tour of three former Yugoslavian countries.
Bosnia apparently only receives around 9,000 visitors from the UK a year, compared to over three quarters of a million who visit Croatia, so the country is hardly attracting huge numbers. However, Mostar is one of the more visited destinations in Bosnia because of its close proximity to the Croatian cities of Split and Dubrovnik. A detour inland when travelling between the two, rather than driving along the coast, will bring you to this Bosnian city.
I was travelling with my 23 year old niece, Megan, on this trip and we stayed in a hotel that was just a 5 minute walk from the Old Bridge area of the city. It was still low season in Mostar and we got the best room in the hotel, a huge room, right at the front, with an enormous balcony. It was always very noisy with traffic though, so we didn’t leave the window open.
After checking in and getting settled, it was time to head out into the city.
You could instantly see that this was a much poorer country than neighbouring Croatia. But it also had a completely different feel.
Walking through the Old Bridge area of shops and stalls gave it the feel of a bazaar in Istanbul. The presence of mosques gave the city a Turkish feel too and I did encounter beggars walking down the street shaking boxes for you to put money into. I’d seen none of that while I’d been in Croatia. This was indeed, another country.
We started out by going into a restaurant where I could have a glass of local wine and enjoy a view of the Old Bridge. In order to lure customers into the restaurant, the owners were keen to show people their balcony with a prime view of the Old Bridge and it was probably one of the best views of the bridge in the city. As there was a table on the balcony with a view, I sat down and ordered a glass of Bosnian white wine. The wine was entirely drinkable. But it wasn’t great. Bosnian wine makers are still very much finding their way in the wine producing industry and they’ve got some distance to go yet. I tried the a glass of red wine, which was about the same quality as the white, but it was nice to sit and enjoy the view and eat some home made baklava, which the owner told me his mother made, and was very tasty.
It seemed I wasn’t likely to find gourmet food in Mostar either, but that wasn’t particularly important. This was a nice restaurant to enjoy a leisurely drink and soak in the view of the city, watching tourists constantly crossing the Old Bridge. I even saw one of the famous bridge jumpers leap off the bridge whilst relaxing with my glass of wine. From my position on the balcony, I couldn’t see the jumper come to the surface, but no one was panicking, so I assumed he must have surfaced somewhere out of my sightline.
We’d now taken in the view and relaxed for long enough; it was time to move on and actually cross the Old Bridge.
Much has been done to restore the Old Bridge area of Mostar, including the Old Bridge itself, which is a wide pedestrian footbridge. It’s a reasonably smart area now with the newly rebuilt Old Bridge, which was completed in 2004, built as a replica of the original 16th century bridge spanning the Neretva River. This side of the bridge was the main area for tourist shops, selling Turkish lamps, leather goods and postcards. I was seduced by a handbag with an unusual design and which was made in Bosnia. At the bargain price of 16 Euros, I imagined it would be heading back to England with me.
This was also the street where a couple of the city’s mosques are located. These mosques are popular with tourists because you can climb the minaret. I’d never had the chance to climb a mosque minaret before, so I was eager to climb one while in the city. I thought the mosque would be closed by now, as according to the information I had, it closed at 5 o’clock. However, it appeared to still be open and would apparently be open until around 7.30pm, but I was advised to come back in half an hour as a Japanese tour group was currently inside and it was rather crowded. So we decided to continue our walk and climb the minaret on the way back.
We continued through the town to the next bridge. This is where the Neretva Hotel, which was informally known as Tito’s Palace, and once one of the best hotels in the city, was located. It was in ruins now, surrounded by scaffolding. I found a newspaper article from April 2018 reporting that the hotel had been bought and was being restored to its former glory. However, there was so little of the building left, it was barely even a shell anymore and you could only just make out the original red and yellow colours of the hotel’s exterior on a few extremely faded stones on the front of the building. It seemed to me it would be better to just demolish the whole lot and start again. It looked like it would be almost impossible to salvage anything that was left and incorporate it into a new hotel.
We then headed back to the mosque and by now the Japanese tourists had left and no one was around. Climbing a minaret in a mosque is much the same as climbing any other tower, up a narrow, stone, spiral staircase. Once at the top of the staircase you can go outside and enjoy the view. There was a good view of the bridge and the rest of the city of Mostar from here, unfortunately the weather had started to turn and just as I was taking photographs outside, it started to rain. The rain began to get heavier, so we made our way back down to ground level. I had a brief look in the grounds, despite the rain, however, the rain really was coming down heavily now, so we beat a retreat back to the hotel, calling first to buy the red handbag I’d had my eye on earlier.
The Old Bridge was very slippery when it was wet and it isn’t a flat bridge either, it peaks in the middle, so there are narrow raised slabs of stone between right across to help you keep your balance on the inclines and declines as you make your way across.
The following morning we walked along to Spanish Square on a street which runs parallel to the Old Bridge area, but on the opposite side of the river. I reached the Gymnasium, which was substantially damaged during the civil war, but had been restored to its former glory in 2009 and is still a school today, one of the few in Bosnia that teaches both Bosniak and Bosnian Croat students in mixed classes, although there is still segregation between the ethnic groups in some subjects. Segregation is still very much the order of the day in Mostar and it has been suggested that most of war damaged buildings that have been restored are in the part of the city where the Bosnian Croats live.
In Mostar you didn’t have to go very far before you were walking amongst a graveyard of derelict ruins bearing the scars of the Yugoslavian civil war of the 1990s.
None of these was a more stark, consistent reminder of the terror the city’s residents faced for more than 3 years in the mid 1990s than the Sniper Tower, a former bank, that, as the tallest building in the city, had become a place for snipers to watch for and shoot down unsuspecting victims as they went about their daily lives. This was the next building we came to just beyond Spanish Square.
These days the Sniper Tower is a derelict ruin that has turned into an informal art gallery for graffiti artists who want to make statements about the civil war. One that I thought was particularly accurate was a painting of a man saying “Beam me up Scotty there is no intelligent life here”. It seemed to sum up the senselessness of the civil war in the city that was at its heart for more than 3 years.
I only got photographs from the ground floor of the Sniper Tower. It is possible to boost your way inside and climb the staircase to the top, as the building is still structurally sound, although there is a lot of debris inside. If you do that you can see more art work and also the view from the top of the tower. There’s even a ladder you can climb to get you out onto the roof.
I didn’t boost my way in for several reasons. Firstly I wasn’t really physically well enough as I was still recovering from an operation and I didn’t want to do myself any further damage by hauling myself over a wall, even though apparently there were some stones that had been piled up beside it as an aid to urbexers. Secondly I couldn’t really put my niece in any danger which would have then meant going in on my own, which also was probably inadvisable. This was a derelict building and like derelict buildings anywhere, I had no way of knowing if anyone was inside there, maybe sleeping rough, and how they might react if they encountered a stranger with a camera. It seemed most sensible to take photos from the street, and even doing that I got a few disapproving stares. There have been suggestions to make this building a formal art gallery – I personally think it would be a good idea to turn this stark reminder of the war into something more positive.
After looking around the war ravaged ruins, it seemed almost fitting that our next destination was the War and Genocide Museum which documented the civil war that took place in Bosnia between 1992 and 1995. It wasn’t somewhere I was particularly thinking of visiting, but it was the only museum Megan showed an interest in looking around and I was eager to harness any enthusiasm she had for her destination. It would no doubt be interesting for both of us. I could clearly remember the many war reports on the news during the conflict, whereas Megan hadn’t been born until almost the end of the fighting in Bosnia.
This museum was a catalogue of harrowing tales of torture, hundreds transported to concentration camps and people being taken from their homes and shot. Getting to the safe zone was virtually impossible, it was a 5 day journey with hazards along the entire route and soldiers lying in wait along the road to capture any people who tried to escape across the border to safety.
There were personal items on display from victims of the war, some of these victims had survived, some had perished. There was information about the mass graves that had been discovered after the war and in the basement of the museum was a replica of an isolation cell with blood stained walls and blood stained mannequins. Not exactly the most cheery place to spend a morning, but it gave an insight into the horror of this terrible war that took place as recently as the 1990s.
I found it very difficult to comprehend that these kinds of things had happened in such recent history. When you see war reports on the news, if you see them every day, it’s easy for them to become normalised, especially when they’re in a distant foreign land. It becomes easy to set aside the horrific reality as it’s so far removed from your everyday life and repetitive news reports can cause people to become immune to what’s happening.
When this war was being fought 25 years ago, I remembered seeing daily reports about the atrocities on the news, but from my perspective (back then I was in my early twenties), it was a vague and distant memory. If you aren’t living in the middle of the war zone, it’s impossible to imagine what it’s like, but this museum gave me much more of an insight into how terrifying it must have been.
When I left the museum I was confronted by a woman with a small child shaking a box at me. When I declined to put any money in her box, she shouted at me. I think I’d just been cursed.
We made our way to the Old Bridge Museum after that and climbed the wooden staircases up the tower where there were various displays on each floor about the history of the Old Bridge and its original construction. Once at the top of the tower, you could peer out of the windows for a view of the Old Bridge. There was a second part of the museum that was the original foundations of the tower and then an exhibition of photographs of the original Ottoman constructed bridge.
Finally, you’re never far away from reminders of the Civil War in Mostar and there were pieces of the original Old Bridge that had been salvaged after it was blown up and collapsed into the Neretva River below in November 1993.
We didn’t have much longer left in Mostar then, so it was back onto the Old Bridge to cross the river after which I planned for us to make our way down to the beach for a view of the city from the river bank. Whilst on the bridge, there was a jumper ready to leap into the waiting river below; I paused to watch him. He didn’t dive, he jumped feet first, and from this vantage point, I did see him come to surface of the water and swim to shore.
It wasn’t a long walk to the beach and it was well worth going down to the river side as you could see the bridge and city from a different viewing perspective. Close to the beach were yet more graffiti covered ruins and the beach itself was pretty scruffy and certainly not somewhere I would have chosen to sunbathe.
And now the time had come to check out of the hotel, so we made our way back, going across the Crooked Bridge, a smaller copy of the Old Bridge which crosses the Rabobolja Creek. This bridge survived the civil war, but was destroyed by floods in 2000 and had to be rebuilt. Shortly after crossing the bridge I was confronted by an old man with a long beard shouting about evil Americans. I think I’d just been cursed again, even though obviously I’m not an American, I’m from Yorkshire!
We were now ready for our onward journey to Dubrovnik taking in a couple of recommended attractions in Bosnia enroute.
During my visit to Mostar, I’d seen a city with a rather Turkish feel that contained some beautiful architecture. But as you were never far away from the derelict war ruins that were scattered throughout the city, there was always a reminder of Mostar’s recent past during the Yugoslavian civil war. And although Mostar had been fascinating, there wasn’t anything that was compelling me to go back there. Megan was glad we’d been there, she found it very interesting.
Despite having no particular desire to return, I’m pleased I included it on my itinerary and had the chance to explore. Like so many places I’ve visited on my travels, if I hadn’t been there I would have always wondered.
I travelled to Mostar in mid May 2018.
I stayed at Hotel Villa Milas a 5 minute walk from the Old Bridge area of Mostar. Room rate included breakfast and free parking.
Koskin Mehmed Pasha’s Mosque is in the Old Bridge part of the city. Entrance fee for the mosque, minaret and garden area is 6 Euros per person.
The Museum of War and Genocide Victims 1992 to 1995 is located in the Old Bridge part of the city. Entrance is 5 Euros per person.
The Museum of the Old Bridge is located at the end of the Old Bridge. Entrance is 5 Euros per person.
I tried Bosnian wine and baklava at Restoran Lagero. Tables on the terrace have excellent views overlooking the Old Bridge. The restaurant is located on the last street to the left before you cross the Old Bridge.
I drove to Mostar from Split in Croatia via Omiš and Imotski, which is 90 miles on coastal and mountain roads and takes approximately 3 hours without stops.
Read more of my posts on the countries that made up the former Yugoslavia.
Slovenia: Ljubljana
Croatia: Zagreb
Slovenia: Source of the Soča
