Of the churches in Sarajevo, in my opinion the one not to miss is the Old Orthodox Church (Sts. Michael and Gabriel). It echoes with history and meaning. Quite small, its main floor is set partway below ground. It is surrounded by a compact balcony on the “second” floor. Something about the size and the age spoke to me. Outside, the courtyard is one of those spaces that starts public and then fades into a personal area. I went up some steps and ended up in a backyard with a playset. The museum, while simple, has some very funny (to modern eyes) religious art. The 19th century Cathedral of the Nativity of the Theodokos has a gorgeous altar screen, stained glass windows and a good number of icons (though not jammed to the rafters with icons like Orthodox churches in Jerusalem.) One middle aged man was praying to an icon. The Catholic cathedral (Sacred Heart) isn’t huge and is to my eyes attractive but not unusual for a European Catholic Church. I finally got in on a Sunday morning during Mass before I left. Despite the sign I found it locked other times. At Mass there were about ten or twelve people – but it was an early service, perhaps more come later.
It is remarkable the number of institutions made possible by the charitable endowment of Gazi Husrev-beg that are still functioning, or functioning again, today. At the center stands the mosque, relatively simple compared to those built by sultans or modern day monarchs, though still evocative. But there is so much more. Across the alley is the religious school, which now has both ancient and modern buildings, as well as a very informative museum. There is a clock tower, an office for determining the precise time of day for prayer, a water system including gravel filters, free public toilets, and public baths. Commerce is considered as well, with a covered market (“Bezistan”), the Morica-Han – an inn that provides food and lodging for travelers, and a caravanserai (or at least the ruins of one, and I am not totally clear on the difference between the first two and the third!)
There is also a soup kitchen, which today still functions as a bakery that sells delicious burek at very reasonable prices. Dinner for me last night and tonight has been their $1 spinach and cheese pastries!
Gazi Husrev-beg’s life shows the spread of the Ottoman Empire in the 16th century. He was born in Greece to a Bosnian father and a daughter of the Sultan, traveled to Crimea, fought in campaigns in Hungary and against Venice, married the daughter of the Sultan, and founded his major waqf (endowment) in Sarajevo.
Gazi Hüsrev-beg receiving a Hapsburg delegation in 1530.
Yesterday began with a peaceful house museum of a well-off Bosnian family from the 18th and 19th centuries. As the welcoming caretaker emphasized, they were neither nobles nor Turkish; it was important to her to emphasize that they were regular Bosnians, who were well educated.
One sign was particularly interesting; it noted that in this room the head of the house would discuss plans for making Bosnia more autonomous within the Ottoman Empire. The house revealed details of every day life for someone of this class: the sleeping rooms, the dining areas, and the “privy“ among others.
I then took a walking tour with Insider City Tours. My guide was a very friendly interior design student who hopes to study in Amsterdam. He enthusiastically emphasized the friendliness of the Sarajevan people and the beauty of the buildings. A major theme of his was how much other cultures have brought the Bosnians, including the Ottoman and Austro Hungarian Empires. I got a strong sense that he was less interested in nationalism and much more in cosmopolitanism, even if it came with empires. For example, when I noted that the City Hall was somewhat orientalist in its design, he reinterpreted that comment to mean that the Austro-Hungarians were seeking to acknowledge the local culture as well as bring their own.
He distinctly deemphasized wars, including the most recent one.When I asked him about one of the Sarajevo “roses”, (red infill indicating where shelling had killed large numbers) he told me about it, but then commented that he wished people would focus more on the multi ethnic nature of Sarajevo and on its future. As one example he said every year Bosnians made great films, but the movies that got the recognition were always about the war.
He encouraged me to go inside the various churches and mosques, as well as to head up the mountain on the cable car and to go inside City Hall. The cable car was built just four years ago and gives a dramatic view of the city. Also, not to overemphasize the war, but it does show you what the devastating positions of the Bosnian Serb artillery.
Upon returning, I went into City Hall, and I am so glad I did! Not only are the architectural details gorgeous, but it gives you a real sense of the Austro-Hungarians in their time.
So I expected Sarajevo to be cool sometimes, warm sometimes, and rainy. I hadn’t expected it to be snowy! But there was plenty of snow on the ground when I arrived.
Coming in from the airport, I played count the hijabs from the bus. In the stretch during which I counted, it was 36 women with no head covering and six with head covering. Of those six, four were young women at the same age walking together. Since I have been in the center of town, I might say that a slightly higher percentage are wearing scarves, but that could be because I notice when I see them more than when I don’t see them.
I suppose this links in to something that I was wondering about Sarajevo. Several blogs I read in advance told me how proud Sarajevo is of being a multicultural and multiethnic city, and that the reputation it has from the war and the siege is undeserved. So I looked up the demographics. Prior to the war, Sarajevo was half Bosnian Muslim, a quarter Serb, 16% “Yugoslav” 7% Croat, and 6% other. In 2013, the percentages were 81% Bosnian Muslim, 4% Serb, 5% Croat, and 10% other. That doesn’t sound like great news from a religious diversity perspective. I hope to learn more about this.
As we came in we passed several mosques. I’m trying to remember if this is my first time, other than the one day it snowed when we lived in Jerusalem and I headed over to the old city, that I have seen a majority Muslim area in the snow. (I was going to say mosques in the snow, but I know I have seen them in the United States!)
Another thing that I knew but hadn’t focused on; wow is this a valley surrounded by mountains! The city itself is along a river and is only maybe five blocks wide in each direction before you start heading uphill. That makes it absolutely gorgeous.
I am staying in a house up one of the hills, and once I got down into town I turned right at the Catholic cathedral walked along a street that reminded me of Istiklal in Istanbul (European 19th century five story buildings along a pedestrian street).
Then I crossed a line that is paved with tile work saying Sarajevo meetings of cultures west and east. And just like that I was in something much more like an old town in Turkey. Winding streets, 2 to 3 story wooden buildings, multidomed brick structures that implied to me hamans or caravanserai or other Ottoman complexes. Shops fairly close on either side of the street; not quite a North African medina, but not a boulevard either. I passed two mosques, one of which I hope to visit during the day, and a madrasah, with a sign in English saying there was a museum.
On the recommendation of my Airbnb host, I went upstairs in a building that housed a restaurant and clearly it was an old caravanserai. Now it is offices; The one I recognized was “avokat” – lawyer. After a good traditional dinner, I headed for the hike up the hill to my place!
(Note – this was the day before Kairouan). I arrived in Tozeur far earlier than I expected to, because the only shared taxi leaving from my previous city departed at 4 AM! Upon arriving, I headed right out to the Medina. It is completely residential, and therefore silent. After the various old cities I have been in, I definitely did not expect that. This Medina is remarkable for it brickwork. The designs that people have made on their walls with these brownish bricks are gorgeous, and in my experience unique. I ended up in a small private house museum that really enriched my understanding of both the town and the Berber culture. (It wasn’t the Dar Cherait, which is much bigger. This family has collected Berber artifacts,, and the man who guided me through was a terrific storyteller. From how they made their tents rain resistant to all the different ways to use a camel (skin, hair, milk, stomach, meat, etc.) he made it come alive.
He also served some delicious tea. This was all for five dinar. Granted he also sells rugs and his wife’s poetry, but it was a very soft sell. It was no problem when I turned him down. Plus I got to dress up like a Berber!
Then I started to plan my next day. I had hoped to visit all of the desert sites on a one-way trip to the east, but it seemed that any I could set up at the last minute were day trips that returned to Tozeur. Also, as far as I can tell, you can’t do the cool nature and/or desert culture (or Star Wars locations) by public transportation. For better or for worse, my Airbnb here turned out to be a small hotel. So with the help of the hotel desk, I plugged into the tourist scene. An English speaking guy with a cowboy hat showed up. He arranged what I vaguely thought was going to be a full day trip, what my Taiwanese companion with whom he connected me thought was going to be a five hour trip, and which turned out to be a three hour trip. This is clearly a part of my visit to Tunisia I should have set up more in advance. That said, the three hours were amazing. We saw two gorgeous oases, one where a spring comes out of the foot of a small mountain, and another with a waterfall.
Yes, in the Tunisian desert, a waterfall. The most fun, however was driving incredibly quickly over the salt flats and sand, and then arriving at the set of one of the Star Wars movies. I am so, so glad I did not miss that. The driving doesn’t look so fast, but believe me it is. Also note that he is on his cell phone at the same time! In the second video you can see us rising over a dune to see the Star Wars set for the first time.
When we got back at noon came one of the logistics moves of which I am most proud. There was not a lot left to do in Tozeur, so I ran across the street to the bus station. The next bus, and the only one until late that evening, was leaving in 15 minutes! I raced back to my hotel, pack my bags, checked out, and jumped on the bus. I then did some Airbnb work to set back my dates at my next town. The five hour bus ride was perfectly comfortable.
I arrived in Kairouan by bus about 6 pm. My host Chema had sent me pictures of the route from the secondary street down the alley to her door, but I also wanted to warn her I was coming so when I phoned she came out to get me. Her house is wonderful – it has been in her family for several generations and she restored it in the early 2000s. She lives part of the time in Kairouan and part in Hammamet, where her daughter lives and where she works in tourism. She lived in Germany for some years and works primarily in German, though her French is also better than mine and is the language in which we communicated. She is fiercely proud of Kairouan, and feels it is the real Tunisia. “In Hammamet I am in Europe; in Kairouan I am in Tunisia.”
That evening I went out for a walk and got my first view of one of the extremely numerous sacred sites. The mosque of the barber is the resting place of a companion out the Prophet who used to carry around three whiskers from the Prophet’s beard. Next to this holy site is a key pilgrimage site for the children of the city, “kids town.“ It was happening, and looked like a lot of fun.
The next morning Chema made a delicious breakfast, including a hot cereal made with grains, and homemade jams. I also appreciated her various pointers on places to go. I began with a wander through the medina, which as I had read is gorgeous, lively, and very genuine. I ended up going down a small covered alley with shoe stores and cobbler’s shops that seemed to go on forever – so fun.
Alas, my first destination mosque was closed on Saturdays, but fortunately the enterprising gentleman outside guided me into the beautifully restored governor’s palace from the 18th century. The fact that it also serves now as a carpet shop I am sure was no part of his motivation for encouraging me to enter and tour. (Indeed, the one downside of the medina for me were the multiple men happy to “help“ me if that help might land them a rug sale.) I was sure to hit the holy site/engineering marvel of the Middle Ages that places a camel in an upstairs room turning a pump that pumps a well for the town!
More wandering, and more mosques, including the very old and large central mosque.
As my host had advised me, I stopped into the Hotel Kasbah. It is another beautiful restored palace. I inquired about lunch, decided to not pay 12 times what I would for a schwarma sandwich from a street vendor, and instead enjoyed a tea and WiFi by the pool.
Then the walk to the outskirts of town to see the large pools of the Aglahbides turned out not to be essential (they are not particularly beautiful basins), but it did perhaps help me, like the camel room, to understand how important hydraulic engineering was to this town back in the day. Returning to the Barber’s mosque was however very much worth it, with a series of beautiful rooms, the tomb of the prophet’s companion, and an elegantly designed interior courtyard outside the prayer room.
On my way back to the medina, I passed a packed restaurant with some delicious looking fish being served. I asked how much, and the price was 12 dinars. Granted, that is four times one of my hit or miss pita pockets, but it turned out to be a delicious experience. Refueled, it was time to try to find the hammam. My first attempt took me seperately past two of my previous attempted guides/carpet sellers, whose friendliness was perhaps dampened knowing I wasn’t going to purchase goods or services. Eventually I turned from finding the bathhouse in the medina to the one just opposite the gate of the martyrs. I passed it several times looking for what my guidebook told me was called Hammam Tak Tak but was labeled with an old sign saying “Bain Maure Sabra”.
Inside it was total party. Other hammams I have been to have ranged from fairly peaceful (in Turkey) to me being the only one there (I’m not sure where.) This had little kids, teens talking loudly, older guys hanging out and chatting – in the three rooms there was hardly a place to sit! I bet the fact that it was Saturday afternoon had something to do with it. I had to ask a bunch of questions – primarily where I could get one those buckets everyone was using. I couldn’t remember the name for bucket in French, so pointing sufficed. It’s also hard for me to navigate a new, culturally challenging and slippery environment without my glasses. It turned out to be quite rejuvenating, though, and I was glad I had followed advice from the Guide Routard and brought my bathing suit and my shampoo.
Dinner was at Restaurant Nakcha . This is an interesting place because it feels fancy (through an archway, in a garden, tablecloths, etc.) but I got a full meal (plus hours of comfortable free WiFi use) for 18 dinars. The view of the garden and (once again) the Barber’s mosque is an added treat. And despite the tourist signals, it was mostly local families.
The Bardo museum is reputed to be one of the great museums of the world. Also, almost everyone I have met in Tunisia speaks basic French. Therefore, I was surprised when my taxi driver seemed confident of the idea of “Bardo” but not so much of the idea of “musée.” So I followed along on my GPS, and we did indeed go toward the Bardo until a certain point. When it became clear to me that he was not going to turn back toward the museum, I asked to be let out. He seemed happy, and it occurred to me that this was the neighborhood called Bardo. A short walk later, which took me past the Parliament adorned with orange trees and concertina wire, and I was at the museum.
My favorite pieces in the permanent exhibit were the marine life mosaics.
There was also a fascinating exhibit on the revolution of 2011, with many of the personal videos, emails, social media posts and other electronic records.
On the way to the shared taxi station, the metro was so jammed I couldn’t get on. I thought I might be there forever – but an empty one came right behind. Like much of the transport system in Tunisia, the metro isn’t fancy but it seems functional.
I found my shared taxi after asking every several blocks and then asking among the taxi drivers. Fortunately mine wasn’t the one with “Just God Be Help Me” written on it in English!
I wondered why my driver kept calling out something like “kreed” to get people to join our louage, when none of the towns I was told to ask for were called that. So I confirmed “Dougga” with him twice more. I think I solved the mystery later that day when my next taxi passed a town near El Kef called “Krieb”.
It took about 45 minutes for us to depart. Slight confusion when we got there – he was dropping me in the new town (“Dougga Nouvelle”) and I did not know where the taxis were for the archeological site (“Dougga ruine”). Fortunately before he left he connected me with one.
A word on costs. I’d seen 6 dinar quoted on the web from 2012. I don’t know if prices have risen or I was overcharged but I paid 9. Then as many have noted the short (but steeply uphill not worth walking) taxi to the site is 20 round trip,and you arrange time time your driver should return. I asked for two hours which worked well for me.
And up I went to the remarkable, World Heritage Site Roman ruins!
The flight from Newark to Frankfurt was late, but thanks to the Lufthansa folks sweeping me and others with tight connections under the airport by minibus, I still made my connection to Tunis. Then, a few of the airport tests. First, could I get a Sim card? No; my phone is locked, and they do not rent mobile hotspots. So I signed up for AT&T’s “passport” scheme, and turned off my cellular data. I got money out of the ATM no problem. Then, to find the #635 bus to the center of town. It turns out you need to go across all the parking lots and across a busy multi lane road with no crosswalk. Then you come to an unmarked standard issue bus shelter. I asked five police on the way. We then waited for longer than a half an hour for the bus, during which time I made friends with a man who proposed sharing a taxi. (He gave up his shade under a palm tree to come join me in mine.) We were about to hail the cab (for about 4 dinars each – much less than 20 dinars I would have paid myself from the airport) when the bus finally came. The bus cost Gamel ½ a dinar – I say Gamel, because since I only had big bills he spotted me the fare. We had a great talk all the way (in French!), ranging from the techniques pickpockets use to his work as an engineer.
I made several attempts to call my bed and breakfast host, but I have not quite figured out the numbering system for Tunisian telephone prefixes yet. No worries, though; I did what I wanted to do anyway which was wander the Medina until I found the place.
It was locked, so I asked the bakery across the street, who sent a child to go and run and get someone else, who made a phone call, and then who knocked hard on the door. I was welcomed by my wonderful host Karima and her sister.
We were picnicking in a wadi when a farmer came around the corner, carrying on his head grass for his goats. Our guide rose and exchanged the following greeting and farewell (my apologies for poor transliterating/translating – it’s what I could get from my guide after):
Salaam aleikum (Peace be with you)
Aleikum Salam (And with you peace)
Kief Halek (How are you?)
Hamdulilah ([I am well,] Thanks be to God).
Mash Akbar? (No news?)
Mash ulum? (No information?)
Diar salime (The country is safe)
Bifuthel Allah wa Qaboos (by the grace of God and His Majesty Sultan Qaboos)
Ma Salama ([Go] with peace)
…and the man went on his way.
Oman has swung from substantial to impoverished and back again. The trading history is fascinating and romantic. In the 18th century Oman controlled a series of ports along the Somali and Kenyan coast, as well as the island of Zanzibar. Trade was conducted by dhows, the last of which was built for (for actual commercial use!) in 1951.
Nowadays in the Omani coastal town of Sur they are still building dhows. Now, however, wealthy princes from other Gulf states order them as symbols of their commercial history! Made of teak and taking a year to construct, they don’t come cheap.
During the 20th century came a time of steep decline; Oman became incredibly poor. Since 1970, however, when the current Sultan deposed his father, the increases in all markers on the human development index have been dramatic. Oman once again does a serious sea trade; this time in oil and natural gas.