Wednesday, November 14
We took a taxi from the stand in from of our apartment building to the bus station. This time it cost only 5 KM / $3.00 whereas the trip from the bus station had cost 14 KM. Unfortunately there are no Uber-like services in Sarajevo so you’re pretty much at the mercy of the bandit cabs.
Like Belgrade there was a charge to get onto the bus platform of 2 KM / $1.20 per person, or as we like to call it: graft and corruption. We also had to pay the same amount for our luggage, but this is normal.
The bus ride was scheduled to take five hours and 45 minutes. The bus usually makes 15 minute stops along the way but you never know when or what will be available. We came prepared with our own sandwiches, water and snacks.
The bus traveled back the way we had come, through the valleys surrounded by high mountain peaks, along the broad slow moving river and eventually to the narrow rushing steam that flowed through Mostar. We stopped there to pick up passengers and then headed towards the coast. About 30 minutes later we were at the Bosnian border.
(Leaving Sarajevo)
The bus driver collected our passports and took them over to a small shack where they were probably scanned before returning them to us. No stamps. Just down the road was the Croatian border crossing. When we had entered Croatia from Serbia we, and all the passengers on the bus, had been subjected to an extensive search of our luggage and had practically been strip searched. This time a border agent came into the bus and collected our passports. Eventually he returned them to the driver and we left to further our journey. We scoured our passports for any signs of a new stamp. We were happy to see that we’d both gotten one.
As we continued on our way we joked that the bus might stop again for oranges, and if it did, we were going to get some. We even got some Croatian Kuna out for that eventuality. Sure enough, as we entered into the small town of Opuzen, we saw a huge number of trees laden with fruit. Before we realized it the driver had stopped and was walking back to the bus with four large bags of oranges. It seemed that other passengers had asked him to pick some up for them. I tried to get to the front of the bus but by the time I did the bus started moving again. Just as I was about to return to my seat the driver stopped at the next stand and motioned for me to get off. I jumped off the bus and grabbed the first bag I could find. It was huge and surprisingly heavy. We estimated that it was a 10 KG / 22 lbs bag. It cost 20 KN / $3.15 which works out to $0.14 per pound. What a bargain! We immediately ate several. They were as delicious as we had remembered. It looks like we’ll be eating a lot of oranges for the next week or so.
(My New Best Friend)
A few minutes later we were driving along the indescribably beautiful coast and arrived at another border crossing. What, another border crossing? We had just come from Bosnia and cleared into Croatia? What crossing was this? Well, that’s an interesting story.
The Croatian coastline is actually broken into two pieces. A small section of it is owned by Bosnia and at 12 miles it is the second shortest coastline in the world. In 1699 the Ottomans lost most of their possessions in the Balkans to the Austro-Hungarian and Venetian Empires. Dubrovnik, now part of Austro-Hungary, was afraid of an invasion by the Venetians so they seeded a small part of their coast to the Ottomans. Today that portion of the coastline belongs to Bosnia and Herzegovina.
Again we handed our passports to the bus driver and he redistributed them. Again they had been stamped. This time it showed that we’d left Croatia. There was no Bosnian border crossing to speak of so we just continued on our way. A few minutes later we went through this charade again. Again there were no Bosnian border crossing but this time we had to get off the bus with our passports. One by one each passenger handed their passports to the Croatian border agent and he scanned them and handed them back. He didn’t stamp them. At least they didn’t want to see our luggage. About 45 minutes later we arrived in Dubrovnik. Only heaven knows what country our passports think we are in. The trip had lasted five hours and 45 minutes and required six border crossings but we had arrived and were looking forward to exploring our new home.
We called an Uber and set off towards the other side of the peninsula in the direction of the old town. Along the coast we spotted a number of small islands with old fortresses and on the other side another fortress that was situated high on a cliff overlooking the sea. When we got to the old town we looked at each other and said, “That’s King’s Landing”. Sure enough there was a huge fortress sitting in the middle of old town that had been used to film scenes from Game of Thrones. The best part was that our driver let us off at Buže Gate, one of the portals to the fortress. Our apartment was going to be inside of King’s Landing!
The old town is well know for its stairs. Many of the streets are practically vertical with long climbs. Fortunately Nino met us and helped carry our luggage. He took Deborah’s suitcase and the oranges, I took my suitcase and the tennis racket and Deborah took the two carry ons. It took some doing but eventually we made it to our new place.
(Sunset Over Dubrovnik)
After taking inventory we walked all the way down to “Flea Bottom” to see some of the town. We checked out the Bosnian restaurant that Nino had recommended but it was just too expensive so we settled “for a bowl of brown” or in our case a couple of slices of pizza at a corner stand for 50 KN / $8.00. After a quick shop at a small local market we headed back home. We knew that Dubrovnik was the most expensive town on the Croatian coast but prices seem on the ridiculous side. We were both tired and by now Deborah had caught my cold. It was going to be a miserable night for the both of us.
Distance walked: 2.2 miles