Mostar

Mostar is a confusing city.

We’ve been here about 12 hours.

The bridge is lovely. 

People bustled around last night — both visitors and locals (I assume) with the vibrance of any tourist destination.

But this morning’s quest for coffee drove home the urban blight — not a US city’s urban blight, but war’s scars still festering and ugly. 

I took pictures so I could remember, but I won’t post them here. Not now anyway.

I drank my tiny cup of Turkish coffee at an outdoor coffee bar. All around me were signs in Bosnian. I was pretty pleased with how much I understood.

The sign that spoke the loudest, however, was in English. However, the reason it spoke so loudly wasn’t that it was written in my native tongue. It was the message —

The Stari Most, the bridge for which the city is known, is missing in the drawing, a casualty of the war that has since been rebuilt.

But, I dare say, the city and the country have not fully recovered.

The world has moved on.

Other cities have bombs dropping on them now.

But we who live in peace and safety mustn’t take it for granted.

Or forget.

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2 thoughts on “Mostar

  1. This wise and gentle reminder speaks straight to my heart. Happy arrivals. I can tell you are going to get and share tremendous and profound value from this trip.

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