I doubt there’s a village, town, or city in the world that doesn’t look good when the lights come on. There’s something magical about dusk – that corridor of time between daylight and darkness, when street lamps come to light and buildings morph into man-made stars. Sarajevo is no exception.
From the terrace of the Park Princeva restaurant on Iza Hrida br., the view of the city is stunning. The synagogues, the mosques, the Catholic cathedral – the diverse culture clearly visible to the naked eye.The building you can see here, if memory serves me correctly, is the Academy of Arts – but I could be wrong.
The restaurant has been in operation since 2001, long enough for them to get the food and the atmosphere right. My veal fell apart as soon as my fork touched it. And the local wine? Superb. Four musicians played a selection of Balkan ballads and yet again, I witnessed the great regard in which musicians are held.
Wandering down the hill at closing time (our taxis had gotten lost), all was quiet. Sarajevo closes early and unlike Budapest or Belgrade, there are few places to go after midnight. Lights reflect off the Miljacka River. Very shallow in daylight, its waters takes on new depths once the sun has gone in and the moon is out.
As we walked across the Latin Bridge and stood where Archduke Ferdinand was shot, time stood still, just for second. It was on this very spot that World War I started. I wondered briefly how different life would have been had Gavrilo Princip not found his mark. What would Sarajevo look like today? I believe that everything happens for a reason. I also believe that I have no need to know the reasons behind all happenings. But on occasion, I’m given to flights of fancy and wonder where I might be now, if something or other hadn’t happened as it did in my life. It seems as if everything I have every done has led to me sitting here, writing this blog post. And if I had my life to live over, I doubt I’d live it any other way.