September rumbles through the rooftops with thunder. The sky is flooded with lead, the mountains are covered in fog. In the corner, on the ceiling, the lizard froze with fear. The second day it pours. In general, this is the third rainy day out of our twelve. Here is September in Croatia.
Well, okay. And we went to Bosnia. It’s sincere, the sun, and cheap.
Well you, wet pathos Dubrovnik.
- Mostar, scream to the navigator. He helpfully draws a curve. Only 126 km. Time on the road does not bother us. We understand, we must reconcile. Give three hours to these goat paths in the mountains, I can not name the local roads in another way.
Crawling away in a stream of motorists hurrying from Dubrovnik, we are surprised to look at a huge yacht at sea.
Monster - in shape and design, similar to a fantastic spaceship. Reflects in flashes of lightning with a silver side. And froze on the water. Three huge masts in space.
- Wow.
- What kind of ghost?
Diving into the Internet. Yacht "A". Billionaire Melnichenko. We rejoice for our own people and insecurely turn into the mountains.
The trail, which two cars can’t get away with, steeply climbs up. There are no fences. Stones on the sidelines rolled down from the peaks. And silence.
On the crest is a lone customs building. Passports, smiles, parting words. Slide gently down. It's good that it's dry.
By twelve, proudly drove into Mostar. Two years have passed since the last meeting. Today we arrived with my daughter.
Unfinished of the past era, frozen behind a fence, a skeleton with windows and traces of bullet holes. There are plenty of reminders of the war.
But in the old part, the city is licking its wounds. The Old Bridge (the main attraction) has been restored here and there, the plastered walls, covered with stone crevices. New cafes, shops, hotels. The houses are climbing up the hill. Turrets of the minarets.
Best parking near the bridge. Cozy areas for seven euros for the whole day. And close and under guard. We leave the iron horse and rush to the bridge.
The Turkish collapse of the bustling areas of Istanbul as a deja vu pop up in comparison. Tablecloths, silk, souvenirs, sweets. Take a sample of rahat-lokum. Made in Bosnia - Respect.
I look at the faces. On a dark complexion of skin, eyebrows, antennae and beards of guarded men, and, eyes cut, the smile of the women there.
A stream of diverse tourists fills the bridge. Under the feet polished to a shine marble marble. The roar of talk, the cries of merchants, the laughter of children - and floods the whole sun.
Not to say that you missed Turkey, but it has its own atmosphere. Disposing. Calm
Jumping from the Bridge is a local and integral attraction. In ancient times, the transition of boys to the rank of men occurred through a jump. Today it is the prerogative of professionals. Initially, they collect money for a long time. The crowd thirsting for an exciting flight is bypassed. Two, three times. Prepare by balancing on the edge. And a jump.
Ah .. the audience freezes, an exciting whisper .. Click the flash photo. Hands thrown up with phones. Bach, a splash of water and a roar of applause. An echo of disapproving cheers.
Well done. Beautiful and vibrant !.
Half an hour break, and the crowd disperses.
Cafes, restaurants with spacious glass terraces and fabulously cheap prices. After Croatia.
- How much trout - - 6 euros? Are you kidding.
“I assure you, sir.” Today's catch.
- Ear - 2.5 euros. Probably in her and the fish there.
- What are you sir. And fish and even rice. Thick soup.
- Can not be!
Everything is real and surprisingly tasty. Tourists are loved here. He is cherished and cherished. And how to live without it?
We drink the good mood of coffee in Turkish. Grace. Thank..
I counted five art galleries. One eminent, sells the master. Expensive. But masters are not cheap.