Getting into Bosnia

The greatest history lesson I ever had, was about 3 seconds long and two sentneces (one, if you use a semi colon)

We bought bus tickets for a 3 pm bus, 3 hours long from Split to Mostar. The bus mostly drove along swerving costal lines and Spencer and I were sure of our pending doom. Imminent death at every tight corner. The bus wound up into craggy mountains, through bald rocks, and random patches of evergreen forests.

It's hard to imagine how those remote towns subsist because there is no way a cube van could negotiate those roads to drop off supplies. They must do airlifts I swear.

Of course, I was a champ and got motion sickness about 30 minutes in, and the bus was about 45 minutes late (as IF it could have made it on schedual)The sights were beautiful, my stomach was wretched. The bus driver stopped every half hour or so to check something at the back of the bus (oh god!). We dipped into a valley, praying we were there, but we ended up winding back up into the mountains stopping where no real bus stop is marked, but people seem to get on anyway.

At the border crossing a cute friendly Croat police man checked our passports. And then at a teeny weeny booth in the middle of a road, was the Bosnian check in. The man boarded the bus, checked our passports and Spencer politely asked for a stamp. The man smiled and actually complied! I've heard it's the Serbian border which is going to be a slight hassle. Anyway, 10 minutes later, stamped we continue on. I praised the almight whatever there is when Mostar appeared out behind a mountain, and happily got off having successfully contained my lunch.

The lady who owns the hostel, Majda, picked us up. She told us to relax about paying her, that we can do it tomorrow when we have the time. She then ran to her car because a police van pulled up and she's illegally parked. SHe begged them not to give her a ticket. They told her since they too were illegally parked, they couldn't very well give her a ticket.

We were driving back to her flat down a non descript road. And she says 'This was the front line of the war; that was the primary school.' And we looked over and there is a shell of a building riddled with bullet holes.

And that was the best history lesson of my life.