Srebreniča.

This is about a trip to Srebreniča. If you do not know what or where Srebreniča is, then please google it. It was the site of Europes biggest mass murder since World War 2, where in the space of 3 days the Bosnian Serb army massacred over 8000 Bosnian Muslim men and boys, as well as ethnically cleansing over 30,000 Muslims from the entire region, whilst the UN just stood and watched. It isn't pleasant reading, but allowing it to be swept under the carpet is not an option. Please read about it.
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Yesterday morning, myself and Beth (the Canadian with the pornographic parents) headed out to Srebreniča. Unfortunately, all the buses that head to what is now the Republika Srpska go from East Sarajevo, or Istočno Sarajevo. This is a good 20 minutes away in a taxi, and Istočno Sarajevo feels like a different world to the rest of the city. It is much poorer, more desolate, more abandoned. There are doesn't seem to be anything there, except small shops, big flats and a bus station. We arrived there, and Beth made the mistake of commenting on the hilarity of Italian accents, so for a lot of the time afterwards I was all 'Bari! Gary! Wherea dida you geta da clapa from?!'. Saying Bari or Gary in an Italian accent is A LOT of fun.

Anyway, there is not much to say about the journey from Sarajevo to Srebreniča over than that it is long, and looks a bit like Wales from time to time. I know that sounds ridiculous, but after being here for a little while its really amazing how similair the 2 countries in terms of country side. There were many times yesterday when looking out the window that I could have believed I was in Powys. I get very Welsh when traveling, my Welsh pride beams through and I even start talking with an accent, until I realise that and feel silly. There was nobody else on the bus either, except the driver, a middle aged woman and an old lady who I swear was no younger than 112. We stopped in the mountains for toilets and whatnot, and whilst standing outside I took the plunge and engaged in a small conversation with the middle aged woman. We established pretty quickly that I can't speak the lingo (she actually thought I was from Russia to begin with) so I tried to steer the conversation in the direction of a subject I'm confident with in Bosnian.

The weather.

Oh yes, so I talked to this lady for about 5 minutes about how cold (hladno) it was, how winter (zima) is coming and whether it is going to be a rainy (kišovito) and windy (vjetrovito) one. I felt oh so smug, I even translated a little for Beth. The whole thing made me want to make more effort with learning the language for next year, so that is my Christmas plan I think. The rest of the drive was pretty unremarkable, it is amazing how attention spans get snapped when bored. I was amazed by a pretty fence at one point, and then shocked at a towel with a picture of a dolphin on it. I also noticed how corn fields look like a mass of Praying Mantis' (Praying mantii?). That's what a degree gets you.

We arrived in Srebreniča and immediately it was clear, this place was desolate. We walked uphill to see the town, and walked past what looked like the most depressing high school in history. This was the first time traveling, possibly ever, where I have beenvery aware that I am a tourist. EVERYONE looked at us in strange manners. Being the idiot that I am, I enjoyed it, and embraced the stares, occasionally staring back. I find that the trick is to stare back, and look a bit angry. Anyway, we walked around this town with nothing in it, turned a corner and were shocked to see a big huge supermarket, very modern, very new. It sums up the Balkans really, absolute destruction with a big shiny shopping centre in the middle. In all fairness, it was a fantastic supermarket, but that isn't the point. Oh, and best toilets in Bosnia.

We got a taxi out to the memorial at Potočari. The memorial has got a large curved marble board with all the names of the bodies who have been identified so far, and it is absolutely the most sobering thing I have seen on travels. When someone quotes a number to you (in this case, 8372 dead) it is impossible to really fathom the size of it, as it is just a number. At this memorial though, it really gets driven home. You see it in front of you, and you can't see it ending. One of the most shocking things about the list of names as well was that you could see how entire families were wiped out, and the range of ages. There really aren't any words that can be said, except expletives and gasps. It must be seen really.

One very interesting thing at the moment is directly behind the memorial. There is a small hill with a couple of houses set on them, which I assume are lived in by Muslims. And directly behind the memorial, probably one metre behind, they have erected 4 large billboards containing statements such as 'Serbia is responsible for this genocide' and 'Serbia = Aggressor = Genocide, Dayton = Republika Srpska'. Srebreniča is currently part of the Serb half of Bosnia (a ruling from Dayton that essentially justified the genocide), so these billboards are a brave statement. Me and Beth had no idea what to make of them, it was crazy.

We then headed across the road to the abandoned buildings there, on a hunch that they might have been the old UN compound. We were right! Wahey! Good old John Bills Eastern Europe hunches. Anyway, as is the way with abandoned buildings around here, we crept in and explored. After a while, it was clear that there was one main reason to continue exploring, and that was the graffiti. This was where the Dutch UN soldiers were stationed, and they were obviously an eccentric lot judging by the graffiti. There are a lot of makeshift calendars there, and a lot of showings of being starved sexually. It was very, very bizarre. There was one large wall sized drawing, it had a little village to the left being attacked by tanks, and then a river of blood flowing from the town with a naked woman on it, and the blood became a snake. Very strange.

After that we headed back to town for a bit before getting the bus home. The bus home was much quicker and headed to the main Sarajevo bus station, so that was all pretty easy. Well, easy except for when Beth spilt her beer all over both of our legs. Bad move Weisenberger.

Within reason, it was a really good day. As with most memorials of this type, they are important for memory and should be seen. The fact that the event happened in the first place is disgusting, so I see no problem with visitors to memorials. If the world forgot everything bad that happened, these massacres would be more frequent. So I don't want say I had a lot of fun, because I didn't (although the bus journeys were pleasant, Beth is officially my favourite Canadian who isn't called Chris Jericho). But I did find my feet firmly on the ground and furthered understanding of events such as this. So yeah, thats about it.

Lazy day today, and then Belgrade tomorrow. It's Tesla time.