Bus rides

On Wednesday morning, Rachel and I took a bus to Sarajevo. It was a seven hour bus ride. I slept fitfully throughout a good portion of the bus ride. We stopped at many small towns along the way. As we drove throughout Serbia and Bosnia-Herzegovina, I saw lots of small towns and countryside. We took several hairpin turns in a large bus on snowy mountains. Not the most secure feeling. As we drove through Republika Srpska (the Serb part of Bosnia-Herzegovina), I noticed a lot of signs in Cyrillic. I kept thinking I was still in Serbia. Rachel informed me that Republika Srpska was actually more adamant and vigilant about using the Cyrillic alphabet than people in Serbia. When we arrived in Sarajevo, we wanted to get off in the center of the city. However, we were unable to get off in the center of the city. We had to go all the way through Sarajevo to the Serb side of Sarajevo (which is actually a small town/suburb of Sarajevo). Several people also seemed to want to get out of the bus in the center of the city; they stood up in the aisles and waited for the doors to be opened. Rachel made the comment that our bus ride went out of the way to drive through anywhere Serbian (adding more tortuous time to the extensive journey). I will add more soon about our adventures in Sarajevo and the return bus ride. I am now going to help Rachel clean out her flat before she leaves tonight.

Part 2 of Sarajevo bus rides:

The bus ride back to Belgrade from Sarajevo was just as interesting as the one there. It started off in a flurry of excitement. First, Rachel and I left the Kairos Center (where we had stayed during our retreat) to change some money. We both needed to change some of the euros Kristin gave us into Bosnian money to buy our bus tickets home (We also needed to purchase tickets for the ride to the Serbian part of Sarajevo to catch a bus back to Belgrade). Unfortunately, the bank we chose (the closest bank) only had one cashier working for exchanging money and making withdrawals. The man in front of us decided to withdraw more than 10,000 euros from his account creating a scurry of activity in the bank. There were questions as the whether the bank had enough money, and what steps needed to be taken before giving him the money. Needless to say, the process of exchanging money took us much longer than we anticipated. So then we bought our bus tickets for the ride to the Serbian part of Sarajevo (where we could go to the Serbian bus station to purchase a ticket to go to Belgrade). We were able to get a bus almost immediately to take us to the other side of town. The only problem was the bus was packed. VERY crowded....making getting on the bus with a backpack a difficult task. I was also carrying my purse (which was actually a messenger bag that was stuffed full). However, we succeeded in getting in and were able to avoid getting smashed by the door that bumped up against my backpack as it closed. We were unable to even make it to the ticket puncher to get our tickets punched. (All of the buses, trolleys and trams in both Belgrade and Sarajevo have several special ticket punchers located throughout the bus...one close to each door. You must put your ticket in this device and pull a lever in order to get it punched. Each bus has a unique number combination that is punched.)

Several bus stops later we were still standing with our stuff without room to maneuver as people entered and exited the bus. We were definitely not a hit with the townspeople. Eventually a seat opened up. A young lady who had just entered the bus successfully pushed her way through to the seat. We continued standing awkwardly. Another seat opened and I was able to sit down. Rachel got to sit down about two bus stops later. The bus started to slowly empty more and more. We got to one bus stop away from our desired destination and two officers came onto the bus. Everyone in the bus quickly exited out of the bus (in the opposite direction of the door the officers had just entered. Everyone except Rachel, the lady sitting across from me, and me. They came to check our tickets (to make sure they were punched properly and we weren't riding without paying).

As mentioned before, we did not have our tickets punched and to make matters worse I had dropped my ticket somewhere in the process of getting elbowed in the face (twice), kicked in the shin, pushed, shoved, and manhandled. I had been holding it in my hand along with a plastic bag (of our snacks for the long return journey) and had not been able to put it in my pocket since I did not have room to move an inch. I realized I had lost/dropped my ticket when I sat down but was helpless to do anything about it. I figured the chances of getting checked were not that great and I really didn't have any other options (by this time we were starting to worry about making our bus).

The officers questioned Rachel as to why her ticket was not punched. The other officer asked the woman across from me for her ticket. She just nodded her head no. The officer asked her a few questions and she pulled out a card to show him. I am assuming that it was a bus pass of some sort, or perhaps her phone number. The officer then moved to question me; I was frantically searching through the plastic bag in hopes the ticket had fallen in there. It hadn't. Since we were in a hurry, Rachel said we would just have to pay him rather than look further or try to explain the situation. I ended up having to use some of my much needed Bosnian money (I had only gotten enough for the return tickets). I think the rapid transaction worked against me, particularly since he and I both did not have exact amounts or change. I ended up paying him a hefty sum which was the equivalent of 25 euros. I received some sort of paper stating I had paid a fine. In my opinion, this was not a fair trade. I was hoping to return from Sarajevo with a different type of souvenir.

Rachel and I quickly exited the bus and began running full speed up a snowy hill to catch our bus. We were now running fifteen minutes late for the bus. Rachel informed me earlier that amazingly buses usually left the station on time or only a few minutes after their scheduled time. I was also keenly aware that if we missed this bus (the 3 o'clock bus), we would need to wait until 11pm to catch the next bus. Not a happy thought. So we ran full speed up the hill, hauling our luggage with us (as previously mentioned I had a backpack and a messenger bag). We saw two buses coming down the hill. Rachel and I ran out in the middle of the street, watched the first bus pass, crossed over to the other side of the street, and ran beside the second bus (our desired bus) in an effort to get the driver to stop. The bus stopped. We got on the bus and attempted to collect our breath.

The bus attendant came back to collect our money for our tickets. (Both on the way to Sarajevo and the return journey there was a bus attendant who collected the money or tickets from anyone who came onto the bus at one of the many bus stops between the original departure and the final destination. The bus attendant also became the bus driver about halfway through the journey when the bus driver and attendant switch roles.) Rachel explained that I did not have enough Bosnian money for the ticket and worked out a deal for me in which I was able to pay in Serbian dinars. This left me with some Bosnian money in my wallet. The fine was not quite as large an amount as the bus ticket would have been. It was only about two-thirds of the amount of the bus ticket. I'm sure I will use this money in one of my many anticipated travels to Bosnia (through WiB or my own personal explorations), but it would have been preferable not to have such a large amount of Bosnian money left over.

About three hours into the journey the bus attendant went through the aisle with candy. Everyone was able to have a free piece of fruit flavored hard candy with a soft, fruit flavored center. I picked a nice cherry flavor. Obviously, this bus was trying to provide better customer service than other bus lines by offering a free piece of candy. To add the icing to the cake, we were later treated to a movie (this bus had two televisions in it). I thought I was in luck when the movie was first put in and the credits were in English. Well, I was wrong. The movie was titled Death Train (not what you want to be watching when you are riding a bus in the dark with hairpin turns in a foreign country). The movie was awful. I could not actually hear it (the volume was turned very low since there were Serbian subtitles), but dialogue was not necessary to follow the plot. The plot involved some sort of military person who became a monk as some sort of penance for his fellow soldier (and friend) dying while they were in action. He felt some sort of guilt and responsibility, but it was unclear how exactly it was his fault and how being a monk was helpful. The villains stole a virus and hijacked a train that his monk just happened to be traveling on with a young, single mother and her son. There were lots of slow motion scenes for unnecessarily dramatic action. My favorite part was when they had an action shot in slow motion of two girls running away from the villains' speeding SUV because the SUV was going so fast it was going to splash water upon them. They were not running in fear of gunfire, an explosion, but from the six foot high splash of water. Oh, the horror of it all.

Most of my fellow passengers seemed just as disenchanted with this film. Most of those sitting near me spent time napping or listening to music. The two Serbian soldiers (who got on somewhere in Bosnia) may have enjoyed the film, but I cannot actually vouch for that since they were at the very front of the bus and I was at the very back of the bus (giving me zero interaction with them, thankfully).