During the summer the old quarter is hot and over-crowded by tourists from all over the planet, most of whom are packed on buses from Croatian coastal cities like Split and Dubrovnik. You can forget about walking at your own speed as your pace is dictated by everyone else, many of whom are the elderly who have no intention to rush. So there you are, under the relentless summer heat, leisurely “stroll” (having no other choice) while looking into every open souvenir shop, and gosh they are all open and sell the exact same things.

It is in the winter that the Old Town slowly reveals its secret. Those souvenir shops which entertain your eyes in the summer are now closed. There is hardly anyone around including the elderly who walk in front of you at the speed of one meter per hour. This is the time when I love the Old Town the most. Who wouldn’t if you have the entire place for yourself. I can absorb every little detail and stand there as long as I want without being walked over. The sky is grey and gloomy, but when fog rises up from the river, the surrounding is simply magical. Snow rarely falls in Mostar, but once it does, it completes the image of a fairy-tale landscape.

Regardless of the season, summer, winter or all year round, the Old Town of Mostar oozes magic and patiently awaits tourist crowds from the Dalmatia or quietly watches a lone creature embracing the whole area for herself.

The short 7 minute walk is full of interesting encounters.Leading from my house is a very narrow street dotted with beautiful, colourful old houses and maneuvering competition among cars and pedestrians. On the pavement, a rare sight on Mostar streets, there is always an old woman, covered in headscarf, begging on her knees. A little further down on the bridge over the deep-blue river Neretva, I often see a man playing accordion. The beautiful music cracks a smile on my face; I am so ready to start my day. Wait not yet, not without the breakfast. I enter a small and cosy bakery, one of many you find everywhere in Mostar, to buy some rolls for breakfast. Eventually I arrive on the square of my school building, freshly painted in orange, where I stop to enjoy my little moment alone and gather my thoughts before being surrounded by people for the rest of the day.I make my way through a bunch of other students, greet the guard and rush up to the top floor for my first class.Depending on how interesting the classes are, the morning goes by lightning fast or sluggishly slow. Between breaks, I frequent the common room looking out over Mostar, checking my email, talking to friends or doing some homework.

Lunch starts at 12 sharp in the school canteen, located in a different building which requires a short walk to get there. Lunch in Bosnia is the main meal of the day, and usually served hot, contrary to what I am used to in the Netherlands where we only eat sandwich for lunch. There is a lot of noise and chaos in the canteen: students talking, screaming, laughing and the sound of the cutlery on plates. After racking up pounds by the waistline (I mean having lunch), I squeeze in on one of the tables to join whichever conversation going on. Sometimes I cannot ignore the screaming inner desire for some different food than what we are served every week. Why not? This isn’t a hospital you know. I make my way to the Pancake Bar of Mostar to indulge myself some more to sweetness or saltiness of Bosnian pancakes. I often spent the rest of my lunch break in the park when the weather is nice, getting tanned or continuing the discussions started at lunch with my friends. Then school continues for a few more hours and after that I walk home with friends, sometimes stop at one of many coffee bars on the way, enduring the smoke inside just to have a deliciously strong espresso.

My life isn’t always that relaxing as I usually have a lot of homework and projects, so I either bury myself behind my desk or sit outside on the balcony studying and working. Dinner is served in the residential hall. There are many nationalities which mean there are many interesting dishes to be tried out, thus we often cook for ourselves, trying to keep our diet as varied as possible. Eating a bowl of rice with Chinese sauce or any other national dish with many people from all over the world whom I call friends makes me realize how special and unique my situation is. We talk, discuss, sing, comfort and support each other, and I feel I have another family here while my family is far away! After food, we treat ourselves to a movie group date in a romantic setting using top-of-the-art technology. Yah only if you call put-together dorm beds is romantic and projector is top notch technology. I will never forget the faces of people who popping in while I was bonding with eight other girls watching The Sound of Music’ and singing very loudly and cheerfully all the songs from the film. Sometimes, we go out for a drink in the city where the nightlife has just started. I have to admit that I often feel a little under-dressed compared to all these fancy-dressed local females.After a long and tiring day, I return to my room, put on my pajamas, brush my teeth, read a few pages from a book, bid my roommates ‘Laku Noc/Good night’ and hope that I am the one who has set her alarm clock the earliest tomorrow morning…

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A student’s life is not the most active, thus I like to go for a run once or twice a week. Running keeps me fit and makes me feel healthier and stronger, but most of all after the exercise I feel an incredible surge of energy. Running gives me the opportunity to empty my mind and to listen to the rhythm of my steps and the beating of my heart.

If you have ever watched the movie Forrest Gump, you probably remember the scene when Forrest was told to “Run Forrest, run!” Since the movie, you can hear people using this phrase at a person or alternatively use the person’s name if this person is familiar to you. Everywhere, runners have always attracted some kind of attention from people around them, but never have I felt so much in the spotlight as I was running in the town of Mostar.

Lately I have started running around Mostar, the town I currently live. There are no big parks or special places fit for running, so I simply run on the streets. This means not only crossing many dangerous crossroads but also drawing a lot of attention from people on the streets since there are virtually no other people running in Mostar except to catch the bus in time. People here play a lot of sports but are restricted to sport fields or sport halls. Reactions of Mostar’s inhabitants to this ‘unusual behavior’ of running on the streets include screaming, cheering, clapping, bowing and much more. On the one hand, I feel like I’m in a zoo, but on the other hand, I have never felt so supported.

There are a couple of reasons behind the differences in attitudes towards running in public. People in Bosnia, especially females, are very image conscious and don’t want to draw too much attention when they look exhausted and sweaty; how one looks is very important in this society. Everybody talks to everybody, and in no time the whole town will know that you were running. Additionally, I don’t think Bosnians are that much aware about health issues as people in Western Europe, and they are oblivious to the fact that a run once in a while is recommended given the enormous amount of meat in their typical Balkan diet.

My friend Yanush and I arrived in the pouring rain one cold, early December day in Mostar. We tried to find a couple of hostels but they were all closed. Finally we ended up at Hostel Miturno, the last hostel  on our list, whose doors were also closed. The nice lady in the shop next door called the hostel manager, Armel, and soon we were comfy in our sleigh-beds with a big powerful heater drying our drenched clothes. Although there were only a few guests, Armel was so hospitable.  He started to tell us about Mostar, and about the war. On the wall he had a picture of Mostar, taken in the very place we were standing, around 1993. This city was 90% destroyed. They did not have electricity for 10 years. Various foreign monies and support came in to rebuild portions of the city, especially the historical Turkish quarter.

I was afraid to ask questions, not sure how much he would want to remember that horrible life for years during the war. But Armel was eager to answer. He said that most of the fighting was here, in this very spot where the youth hostel had been rebuilt. He pointed to the photo of the building, which was virtually bricks and rubble. He said, “Along the river there was mortar, gunfire and shattered glass…snipers. About 200 meters farther north people were sipping cappuccinos.” This was my first introduction to Bosnia, a confusingly beautiful, sad, and war-torn country.

We found our friend Paula, a Spanish woman who was volunteering with children in Mostar. And she introduced us to her friend, whose father was the director of an elementary school. Her father kept the school going in the basement of a house during the war. She talked of neighbors against neighbors, throwing grenades at each other. Confusion, snipers, I could only imagine the horrors she had seen. We have to talk about it. We need to tell people what happened here.” I was grateful that she shared her stories.  As she spoke, we were sitting on the river in the beautiful town of Blagaj, where the Buna river originates. In this idyllic setting I couldn’t imagine war.  Only the fast-moving, clear water, hills, trees, and fresh trout that surrounded us. When I close my eyes, I can see the hills and bridges, softly lit at night and hear the roaring water, so abundant in Mostar.  Unfortunately, when I open my eyes I can still see the burned-out, shelled buildings and the tall, ghostly bank building - still standing - from where snipers picked their prey.

My greatest hope for Bosnia is that more people will get to see the incredible natural beauty and strength of character in the people of this country with a troubled past. That peace will prevail, stories will be shared, and through those stories, a hopeful future will be re-written. The telling of these stories, without malice, with only the desire to be heard, gives me hope.

A part-time, back-office virtual assistant position is available. The applying candidate will need to have excellent written English language skills, meticulous organization skills, and back-office admin experience.

You will be responsible for:

• Managing the general project and client contact calendar.
• Sending standardised information emails to clients. These are pre-prepared emails that are all the same, and ready beforehand, but the information request emails must be sent within 24 hours.)
• Managing client database
• Other admin work upon request

Additional info:

• The 4 hours daily are flexible, but need to be regular in that we must be alerted what times the “virtual” assistant will be working that day 24 hours beforehand.
• All work needs to be registered on a time sheet that will be updated on a daily basis.
• Internet access required
• Ideal for someone who wants or has to work from home due to family commitments.

Salary: 150 euros per month

Please reply to position.jobvacancy@gmail.com with cv and references.