October 06, 2004

Split to Mostar

I arrived in Split, and was struck by how pretty it was. A lovely waterfront with hills scattered all around it. There were a fair number of tourists milling about the place, including a few backpackers from the boat. I walked round to the bus station to buy a ticket for Mostar, but then realised I had no Croatian money. In Croatia they use the 'Kuna', which is some kind of member of the weasel family. They don't actually use the weasels, as that would be a little awkward, but rather they named their currency after a weasel - or a marten I think - to be strictly accurate.

Having acquired my supply of weasels, I returned to the bus station, and purchased my ticket. The bus left at 9.30am, and it was about 8.15am, so I decided to go for a wander around the back streets of Split.

It seems that a lesson I never ever learn, is that I am not actually capable of 'remembering the way back'. Off I went, this way and that, until I realised that I might not actually know where I was. Then I realised I had no watch or any other way of knowing the time. I started to head back, and ended up on the other side of the bay. Now panic was setting in, and I was walking at extreme high speed, worried I would miss my bus. I arrived back at the bus station a sweating steaming mess, and got on the bus five minutes before it left. I might have to tattoo 'you can never remember the way back' on my hand. That, or get a watch.

Still, the bus was comfortable and not very crowded, which is just the way I like them. It was a lovely journey along the Croatian coast, before turning inland into some beautiful mountains to cross the border into Bosnia and Hercegovina. It's quite long writing 'Bosnia and Hercegovina' the whole time, but it's technically incorrect to write just Bosnia, especially as Mostar is in the Hercegovina' part, so I will persevere. Maybe I should shorten it to BiH, which is what the bumper stickers on their cars say.

At the border crossing, the bus driver took all our passports, and brought them back 20 minutes later. Then a policeman came on the bus and we showed them to him as well. Then we waited for no apparent reason for about another 20 minutes, before finally driving the bus over the border, where we immediately stopped for a 30 minute lunch break. Now, if it was me in charge, I would suggest they combine the lunch break with the waiting to cross the border part. Another forty minutes or so brought us to Mostar, where I left the bus.

Posted by paul at October 6, 2004 06:00 PM