Train rides are an adventure.
There’s so much that could go on during a train ride that just wouldn’t happen on a airplane; like our highway to hell train ride from Budapest to Serbia (try stopping a plane so that a brute police officer who smokes like a chimney can mark your passport… it probably won’t happen). Train rides are where stories are made. Like our train ride from Bosnia to Mostar that kind of reminded us of Vegas.
Tickets for trains in Bosnia are hand-written, by the way.For those of you who have yet to visit Las Vegas, it’s a little oasis in the middle of the desert. The air is acrid, hot and dry. The area around that little oasis is devoid of life. Seriously: you can go for miles before seeing people. But, inside, oh yes, inside that glorious little oasis, on that super neat street called “The Strip” is where the debauchery happens. People have a wanton attitude towards it all: money, booze, gambling, cigars. People can smoke in a majority of places in Vegas and no one really bats an eye.
Now, I’m not saying that the train to Mostar was hosting a speak-easy casino or anything. But, there were about three people on there who smoked so much that I will never have to lift another cigarette in my entire life. Yup, it was that much second-hand smoke…
I told my grandma about the chimney group. She told me that at one time, everyone smoked pretty much everywhere. Well, the US has pretty much put the kibosh on smoking in public. The smell of it is so offensive that–literally–all it takes is the slightest look of irritation and the smoker will politely move somewhere people aren’t. Can not say it’s the same in Bosnia. I tried the ol’ stink eye. I don’t think they saw it through the smoke…
After about three hours of nonstop smoking, we disembarked the train. I took a whiff of my hair and sure enough: smelled like Vegas. Mmmmm….Smokey.
Mostar was our last stop in Bosnia. It was one of the most embattled cities during the Bosnia War. The remnants of that war still remain. Pretty much every where we walked, buildings were riddled with what looked like bullet holes.
Mostar buildings. 
Part of the old town.Stari Most, the bridge connecting one side of Mostar to the other, stands out in the town because it’s so old (dating from the 16th century). Unfortunately, the original bridge was destroyed in the Bosnian War. It was then rebuilt in 2004.
People were diving off that bridge. We watched as one guy teetered on the edge of the bridge. He pondered the drop, whether it was too far down, or perhaps if there’s a very really possibility of death from his dive. He literally furrowed his brow and then decided “fuck it” and dove.
He dove from there … …And landed there.That was Mostar, a town with so much history. Up next, Croatia!
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