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A summer vacation on the Adriatic coast

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Omis

Somewhere in a coffee shop in Sarajevo, one Bosnian should thank me. He doesn’t know it yet, but he will thank me. This has something to do with the law restricting employing foreigners if the company can find a local replacement. This makes sense given the very high unemployment rate in Bosnia. But this means I can kiss goodbye my hope for a contract renewal. I will soon have to leave the country which I wanted to stay longer at least one more year, maybe even more. All sentiment set a side, I now have something to look forward to: my summer vacation to Croatia’s seaside. I didn’t really want to go there thinking there will be plenty of time, and suddenly I don’t know when I will be able to return.

A friend, Meri, called the bus station on Friday to inquire information about buses to Omis and found out the earliest one to Split through Omis had only three seats left. Her phone call sent Jarda and I trying to beat the locals and running to the street of Sarajevo to the bus station to grab the last tickets. Usually, you can be more relaxed behaving and shopping the Balkan style, showing up and buying tickets on the spot right before your departures. But Split is one of Bosnians’ favorite summer sites. On top of that, the departure is on a Saturday during summer season when every Bosnian day-dreams for a taste of the Croatian seaside.

Our 7-long bus is scheduled to depart at 7 and cost 17 KM/9 euro per person, which is quite decent. Upon comfortably seated, and the bus is only minutes from leaving, I realize I have forgotten my passport. Out of desperation, I turn to Jarda “Do I really need the passport?” “Get out! Get out right now! We have no choice. How are you going to cross the border?” He shouts while ushering me off the bus. “Uh, how about we bribe the police for example?”

You see, years and years living in a corrupted country will make matter like this be seen as bribe material.

How could I forget my passport? I had a detailed checklist.
- Razor to shave legs for the beach.
- Hat to walk under sun.
- Cream for face, lotion for hand, soap for body.
- Instant noodle as emergency food kit
- Wallet, credit card, debit card. Printouts of credit card and debit card.
- All kinds of things a woman bring on her vacation to the seaside.
- Mini locks and keys to prevent thugs from quickly opening my backpack and stealing razor, hat, cream, lotion, soap, instant noodle, wallet, cards, card printouts and all kinds of things a woman brings with her on a seaside vacation.

And I left home my passport.

We exchange our tickets for the next bus departing at 10. It is surprising how the bus company even lets us do that. We left the bus at the instant of its departure, and they would not be able to sell our seats. Jarda stays at the station while I walk home to find and add the passport to my travel sack. No rush to return to the station right the way, I wash dishes left over from yesterday and vacuum my room while contemplating the quick turn of destiny. One minute I was ready embark on a summer to remember, and in another I find myself holding sponges scrubbing greases and dustpan to rub the floor. On the way back to the bus station, I stop at an open market to grab a bikini. The formidable lady upon learning that I am a teacher, she gives me a whopping 30% discount. Teachers must be seen universally as being dirt poor, I guess.

The distinctive mountainous landscape from Sarajevo through Mostar to the south-west of Bosnia and Herzegovina (BiH), though I have seen many times, still have this strange power to bewitch and sadden me at the same time. It was the ultimate contrast between nature’s superior sight and human’ debased behaviors.

The first bus stop is in Lalajna where, on my way to the toilet at a restaurant, I run into a colleague of mine and her four-year old daughter on their way to Neum, Bosnia’s only seaside city on the Dalmatian coast.

Bosnian seaside if you can call it that looks very strange, having only 30 km of landmass. On the maps of Bosnia and Croatia, a tiny wedge in different color near the south of the Dalmatian coast is Neum. Bosnians, using territorial maps from ancient time, claim that Croatians stole their seaside. When I ask Jana, a Croatian friend to verify that claim, she sternly looks at me and lectures: “Look! Bosnia did not even exist for sometime. Part of it belonged to Croatia. Look at Croatia’ shape (It is a strange up-side-down L). What kind of shape is that? Before, Croatia was much bigger, but over the years, Bosnia edged in.” It is very interesting to see how different people interpret the map of Croatia. Petra, my Czech roommate in Sarajevo, once told me that Croatia wants nothing to do with the Balkan. Its shape shows it desires to break away.

I am not certain and will not bother to find a correct answer about the originality and the legitimate owner of the Dalmatian coast. The answers vary depending on your chosen timeline and the beginning of the questioned history. I found three historical maps in chronologically order. On the first and second map, the Dalmatian coast was in Croatia’s territory. On the third map, during the territorial expansion under King Stephen Tvrko in the 14th century, Bosnia expanded to include a large part of the Dalmatian coast.

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