Snowy bus ride to Višegrad in Bosnia’s Srpska Republic

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Today we headed into “the other” part of Bosnia, the Serb eastern and northern area called the Republic of Srpska. But first we had our last morning in Sarajevo.

My BG, after the terrible nonsense of yesterday, was 139 when I woke up. An excellent start. We had the cake from last night, plus some yogurt, for breakfast. Then we killed some time in the room, because our bus wasn’t until 3 pm.

We went to check out from our guest house, and the woman who owned it invited us in for coffee. She was really nice, and we spoke with her and her daughter (who spoke excellent English) and her daughter’s Michael Jackson-loving boyfriend for a while. They suggested we go to the museum nearby dedicated to Alija Izetbegović, the former leader of Bosnia during the war. We had seen an old town wall-looking structure and gate near the place, but didn’t realize it was a museum.

The daughter, Sarah, showed us a shortcut up a ladder and over a small wall, to get to the museum. The icy rain from last night had finally become snow, and everything was covered in a new smooth layer of soft, cold white. Before entering the museum, I checked and was 187. Not great, but not 300+.

The museum was small but interesting and very well done, and it depicted the life of Izetbegović and displayed many of the items given to him by world leaders.

Then we checked out, thanking our hosts for their generosity, and walked down to town for the final time. The Republic of Srpska likes to have as little to do with The Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina as possible; Sarajevo was in the latter and we were taking a bus to a town in the former. So we weren’t using the main bus station in town, easily reached by tram, but a more obscure one south of town, across the border in Srpska.

We had to find a trolley bus to take us to an area just before the border called Dobrinja, and then continue walking down the road a few hundred meters from there. There was no sign saying welcome to Srpska, unfortunately; I had my camera ready.

But we did find the bus station ok, and noticed that a lot of things were signed only in Cyrillic. We bought the tickets for Višegrad and then went to find something to eat on the bus. Masayo took us to a place that sold cheap and delicious-looking burek (fried dough with a filling) and yogurt. I got meat and Masayo got spinach.

The bus left on time and we pulled out onto some winding, snowy roads that led further into the Republic of Srpska. The food was excellent — it just happened to be the perfect taste at the perfect time. I took what I hoped was not too big a shot for it. I don’t know how much carbs is in burek but it didn’t seem like much.

The ride was spectacular: dramatic snowy vistas, with the coating of fresh new snow, as the bus rolled slowly along roads that hadn’t been plowed. It seemed a little dangerous, but the driver was going slow and seemed very careful. I got more concerned as darkness fell, but realized that I wasn’t driving, so what could I do anyway? I just relaxed and enjoyed the trip.

We arrived in Višegrad only a few minutes late, and the owner of the apartment we’d booked was waiting for us as he promised. He drove us to the apartment nearby, where two cans of beer and a plate of sweet snacks were laid out for us. The apartment was big — three bedrooms, plus a large living room and kitchen, and two bathrooms. And, it being the low season, it was all for us, and only $35 a night total. I was kind of sorry we’d only booked two nights in such a nice place. There was even a TV with a DVD player and a stack of National Geographic DVDs. Awesome.

My BG, unfortunately, was 310. I didn’t know why. I really didn’t feel that the burek was that surprisingly heavy. What could have made me that high? Stress about the bus ride? I wasn’t that worried about it.

(Speaking of the bus ride, I later found out that the night before our trip, a similar bus had plunged into a ravine about midnight just a few miles from our route, and three of the people had been thrown from the bus and killed, on what is considered the most dangerous road in the Balkans. No wonder our driver was being so careful.)

So Masayo and I walked into town to find some dinner (and take care of this stupid 310). There didn’t seem to be many restaurants, and the couple we passed were closed. Finally, at the opposite end of the small town, we found a place open.

I ordered fried fish and hot tea. The food was really good — fried river fish with cold sliced potatoes and onions (and a basket of bread). I took a grand old shot of Humalog for it.

Then we went to a market to get some supplies for the room, and went home. I was feeling tired, mostly from having been high. Finally at 11 pm I checked my BG, expecting it to be high: but it was 166! Now that’s victory!

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