Sarajevo was obviously not designed with military strategy in mind; if someone wanted to lay siege to the town, all they would need to do is perch on the hilltops and send projectiles below to eliminate the population. Which is exactly what happened.
With the exception of a very few buildings, every part of Sarajevo still bears the scars of war. Most poignant for me was the parliament building, a massive structure near the bus station, thirty storeys tall, every window broken and gutted. Gigantic holes from mortars along its side. Across the street is the Holiday Inn, which was recently renovated but still bears bullet scars on its concrete exterior, many of which are scattered across the five olypmic rings. Surely this was a curiously unintentional fate for a former olympic city, unprecedented amongst fates after hosting the games.








I moved on. It was raining heavily, but of course rain doesn't bother me. On the sidewalks there are pock-marks everywhere; this is one city where you can assume structural damage has been done by ammunition. Many of the holes created by mortar shells have been filled with red rubber, making them look like blood splatters on the sidewalk. First you will see one, and it will be of interest; and then you will see another; and after a few hours or days in the city you find so many that you may become numb - remember that this was Europe's fourth largest army sending artillery down upon mostly unarmed civilians.






Sarajevo is as bustling as you would expect from a capital, but still six years later the war lingers on. There are hundreds of NATO troops wandering around, international ones, buying souvenirs like me but also, assumably, there to prevent those with darker hearts from getting any ideas. Much to the chagrin of the Serbs, I'm sure, all of the mosques have been rebuilt, and they are everywhere. Yet there are also several churches in the city centre, as well as a Jewish synagogue. Every city is multicultural; it is amazing to think that the Serbs would try to create a single-raced international city.







The Turkish market has been rebuilt, along with a pedestrian promenade, and it is here that you can almost forget about Sarajevo's recent past. Almost - if it weren't for the NATO troops, the mortar holes painted red, and the not uncommon dots on buildings made possible only by bullets.

Rain persisted from the overcast sky as I wandered in between the crowds, through this thin and narrow metropolis, as it follows the river that runs through it. Museum-wise Sarajevo is low on sights, sadly; the only thing to really see outside of the Turkish market are remnants of war.

It is the city of the country, though, and is forever ground into the international community as the sad end to a formerly glorious Olympic city. As a city in general, though - Sarajevo's future is not too bright - it is like looking at a hospital patient recovering from a serious injury - you hope that they will one day walk again. But will they ever see real glory again? This is hard to say.






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