The wind whips into a frenzy as our little band huddles against the elements during a war tour of Mostar. It is certainly a far cry from the summer time madness back in August when, if you may recall, my friend Mike jumped off the famous bridge here. The water is a lot higher and significantly colder now, and where once crowds of people stood to watch foolhardy youths plunge to the depths below, now not a sinner stands, the railings empty and streets lined with shut doors. Bustling street cafes are boarded up, and the only passer-by you’re likely to meet is a stray dog. And I find it beautiful.
I’ve always had a passion for the forgotten. The derelict fairground ghost train. The abandoned warehouse. The seaside in winter. There is something so mysteriously captivating about places where people once were, now left to rack and ruin and overrun by nature. Mostar, while not quite left to rack and ruin, is slowly struggling to return to its former glory. But without the tourist dollars and the blazing sun, it’s crumbling remnants of war-torn Bosnia seem all the more palatable. Perhaps heartrendingly so, it is nonetheless a photographers dream. A living museum and testament to mans inhumanity to man.
Mostar had a bad time of it. A war on two fronts. Double dealings and back-handers saw Bosnian Serbs and Croats lay claim to cutting the country in two here, and the city was caught in the subsequent cross-fire. It was carnage. Across a certain section of the city, there isn’t a building that hasn’t been affected. The problem now is the government is doing little about it. Many families are residing in bombed out shells, with new builds standing empty – broken promises and dodgy politics. Mostar has around 50% unemployment, which is staggeringly high, and goes someway to explaining why this region still stands on a knife-edge. Tensions between ethnic groups are rising, exasperated by no means in part by the destruction of a Bosnian Army war memorial. This vandalism hit the headlines in March this year, highlighting once again the frail peace in the Balkans.
For me the city had lost none of its charm when I visited in the summer, and it is a must-see if you come to Bosnia. With common sense prevailing, hopefully we’ll be seeing even more crazy folk throwing themselves off the Stari Most for many years to come.
Return to Mostar
The wind whips into a frenzy as our little band huddles against the elements during a war tour of Mostar. It is certainly a far cry from the summer time madness back in August when, if you may recall, my friend Mike jumped off the famous bridge here. The water is a lot higher and significantly colder now, and where once crowds of people stood to watch foolhardy youths plunge to the depths below, now not a sinner stands, the railings empty and streets lined with shut doors. Bustling street cafes are boarded up, and the only passer-by you’re likely to meet is a stray dog. And I find it beautiful.
I’ve always had a passion for the forgotten. The derelict fairground ghost train. The abandoned warehouse. The seaside in winter. There is something so mysteriously captivating about places where people once were, now left to rack and ruin and overrun by nature. Mostar, while not quite left to rack and ruin, is slowly struggling to return to its former glory. But without the tourist dollars and the blazing sun, it’s crumbling remnants of war-torn Bosnia seem all the more palatable. Perhaps heartrendingly so, it is nonetheless a photographers dream. A living museum and testament to mans inhumanity to man.
Mostar had a bad time of it. A war on two fronts. Double dealings and back-handers saw Bosnian Serbs and Croats lay claim to cutting the country in two here, and the city was caught in the subsequent cross-fire. It was carnage. Across a certain section of the city, there isn’t a building that hasn’t been affected. The problem now is the government is doing little about it. Many families are residing in bombed out shells, with new builds standing empty – broken promises and dodgy politics. Mostar has around 50% unemployment, which is staggeringly high, and goes someway to explaining why this region still stands on a knife-edge. Tensions between ethnic groups are rising, exasperated by no means in part by the destruction of a Bosnian Army war memorial. This vandalism hit the headlines in March this year, highlighting once again the frail peace in the Balkans.
For me the city had lost none of its charm when I visited in the summer, and it is a must-see if you come to Bosnia. With common sense prevailing, hopefully we’ll be seeing even more crazy folk throwing themselves off the Stari Most for many years to come.