I’m very sorry for the slow post on this weeks New Friend Friday. I hope to make up for it by posting a shorter read (phew!) and present you with not one, but four new friends.

I stepped off the midnight train from Budapest to Sarajevo and headed straight to the information booth. Two persistent men whisked me away in a van with four Germans. It just so happened that they were on the same train from Budapest as I and were going to the same hostel. And maybe, just maybe this van was going there and not to a secret work camp. So the Germans had a friend who dropped from the trip, allowing me to fill as the fifth person on their reservation. ‘Synchronicity’, I think.

From this point on we spent the next three days eating crazy meat dishes, clubbing to the best and worst Bosnian music, and exploring the Olympic and war-torn town of Sarajevo. The Germans were, Julian, the youngest, followed by Korbinian, Julius, and Felix the elder of the group at 26. They are all studying medicine in Pecs, Hungary just outside of Budapest. So during the next three days I was in and out of communiqué with the group who would switch between bits of Hungarian, and primarily German and English. Not to mention the white noise of Serbian dialects filling the rest of the air.

Before they left we rented a car for 7 euros ($10) a person and went to Mostar, a town about 120 km away from Sarajevo. The drive spanned through bombed houses of aerated red bricks, hillsides of goats, and Alps-like purple mountains. The surreal green Neretva river guides you along the drive and pierces through the city of Mostar. That is partially why we went there. You see, the town is divided by the river. One on side is Serbian and the other Croatian where the two have been warring with one another for longer than America has been a country. The bridge, a symbol unifying the two sides was built by an Islamic architect and was subsequently bombed numerous times. Now it has finally been rebuilt with material from the original sight and stands for unity at last. While there we got to go atop the Minaret at the mosque and kick it with some Moroccan military who then deleted are photos with them out of fear that their commander would find out. A good trip none the less and great new friends.

Alright I’m off on a new adventure to Kosovo. I hope to bring you back treasures of Turkish conquers, crazy ski resorts, and maybe a little Albanian machismo. Miss and love you guys.

erik