Bosnia & Herzegovina, and Monte-No-We-Did-Not-Go

WARNING: this post is War and Peace length, but to break it into separate ones would make it even harder to try to get across how shitgodamn funny this day turned out. I’m going to give it my best, but my writing skills will in no way come close to capturing the humor. Allora. . .

Monday morning we picked up our rental car in Dubrovnik and headed out to Bosnia. Since Liz had her international driver’s license, I didn’t bother to get mine; thus, Liz was the official chauffer of the trip. I navigated. We’d met a couple on the ferry to Korcula who had driven to Mostar in Bosnia (technically Herzegovina, confusing shit) and said it was easy, two turns. In fact, it was just that simple. We never made a wrong turn the entire way there and back; we are impressive! The drive was beautiful along the coastal road that clung to edge of the mountains, if not somewhat freaky because of the people’s willingness to pass on blind curves without the safety of a shoulder or guardrails. I believe douchebags would be the correct term for these kinds of drivers.

Liz doing an excellent job of driving!

beautiful drive

Croatian and Bosnian flags at the border crossing.

So, three hours later we arrived in Mostar. It’s a predominately Muslim city that still has a very European feel. There are 10 mosques and a huge Catholic church. Interestingly enough, few people heed the call to prayer that happens 5 times a day, none of the women cover their heads, and you can take pictures in the mosques. We chose Mostar because it’s easy to get to and it really does give a real look at the devastation of the 1990’s Balkan Wars. While Dubrovnik made it a point to rebuild ASAP, Bosnia, 15 years later, has not fared as well. Along the roads and especially in the town there are lots of bombed out buildings and memorials to the people who died fighting. We were told that the main bank that held the mortgages/paperwork on many buildings in Mostar went under after the war, so no one really knows who many of the buildings belong to. Because of this, they haven’t bothered to spend the money to repair them since ownership is questionable.

Mostar is not as beautiful as Dubrovnik, although there are some very pretty parts, and certainly has a much more subdued tone to it. Laughter wasn’t heard much and the people just seemed to be more worn by life. After seeing what happened to their town during the war and the constant reminders on most streets, it’s understandable. I’m really glad we went into Bosnia; it was depressing, moving, enlightening, and fascinating all at the same time.

The return trip to Dubrovnik was just as easy as the outbound one; no wrong turns, no traffic accidents, and no problems even finding the parking lot we needed to use for the car over night.

And then, shit fell apart.

a mosque

Inside one of the 10 mosques

On top of the hill you can see a large cross. That marks the place where the bridge was shelled from.

The Old Bridge that is very symbolic to the people of Mostar. It was bombed until it finally fell into the water. They rebuilt it using the same methods and materials as the original one.

grilled steak with mushroom cream sauce, yum!

the view from the top of the bridge where the divers go over.

Divers will go off the bridge into the freezing cold river when they've collected enough money. We actually got to see one of them do it. 75 feet is a long way down.

Mostar

bombed out building in Mostar

machine gun damage to a building on the main boulevard that became the front line in Mostar. Bodies had to be left in the street for months because snipers made it too dangerous to retrieve them.

minaret over a Mosque

on the Old Bridge in Mostar

bombed out building with an amazing star pattern from a shell hitting it.

Bosnian or Turkish coffee

Let me set the scene, here. The particular car park we were using was just outside the Old Town walls, and is called the Tennis Court by the locals. It’s usually full (parking around the old town is a royal pain in the ass) so people form a line of cars; one comes out and then one goes in. Get it? Cars volley back and forth like on a tennis court. We figured this out and got in the line of cars on the gently downward sloping hill. The downward slope becomes of the utmost importance here in a second. So Liz turns the car off and we are thinking it may take us ½ hour to get our turn to go into the lot. She suggests I go to the little café beside the car park and get us some beers. I veto the idea because I know there is 0 tolerance on alcohol in the system if you are driving in Croatia. Granted we only have about 50 feet to go, but why take the chance. I can’t imagine Croatian jails are good times. This turns out to be a very wise decision. Anyway, at this point a car comes out and everyone needs to move forward one space. Now you have the scene set up and its time for me to provide both of our perspectives on what happens next.

Carrie’s view: I’ve got my Rick Steve’s book in my hand and I’m looking for, well who the hell knows what. I glance up and see the car in front of us move up. I see Liz release the emergency break and our car starts rolling, it’s not turned on. She starts making sounds that indicate a problem; I see the car in front of us getting closer and closer. I yell, “hit the breaks”, Liz erupts in a scream. Knowing what is next, I cover my eyes with my book, feel and hear the impact of us hitting the car in front of us, and then hear her car hit the one in front of her. My immediate thought, “oh, fuck!” Liz and I looked at each other, I looked back down at my book, and she got out to deal with the accident.

Liz’s view as written by her: “ I had my bare feet propped-up on the dashboard and my left arm hanging out the window, as if I was being driven (rather than being the driver). When it was our turn to move up, I took the parking break off and basically, forgot to tell the rest of my body that it was time to drive. I literally forgot that I was driving a car and by the time I realized it, we were rolling down the incline, on our way to a hilarious, yet
scary, few hours with some sweaty eastern European police.”

So, to summarize so far, we drove 6 hours to a third world country and back with not so much as a wrong turn only to get into a 3 car pileup while sitting still. That is some classic shit right there!

The last thing the guy at the rental car company told us was we absolutely had to get a police report if anything happened to the car. We were pretty sure that nothing was wrong with either car (the car in the front was not hurt and those people just drove on in to park) but rules were rules and we needed the police report. Mary, the woman we hit was as nice as could be and called police for us. After about half an hour they showed up and the real fun started. There were two of them. One was fat, old, and sweaty; the other was young and cute. Neither spoke English, so thank god for Mary’s ability to translate. Throughout the entire debacle with the cops I sat on the stone wall and watched the show. I’m telling you, it was hilarious.

It starts out with the old cop taking random pictures of the NON DAMAGED cars. Both Liz and Mary agreed that her car was not hurt at all and ours just had a crack in the plastic that held the license plate. Then the young guy says that if Liz gives him 150 kunas they will just go away and not file a report. Do What? He wants a bribe to go away when we are the one’s who need them there to fill out the report? Seriously??? So, after not getting the bribe money, the filing of the report commences. There are pictures drawn of both cars; these drawings were about the equivalent of what I would draw if I was blind drunk using my toes to draw with a stick of butter. There was also A LOT of discussion between the young cop and Mary. At this point they start drawing damage onto the picture of her car. Mary, at what I believe to be the young cop’s suggestion, has now decided her car is damaged and wants to get money from the insurance company. At the same time, Old Fat Sweaty Cop is standing by our car holding the rental agreement and starts yelling at Liz (please read the quotes with a broken Croatian accent; its not nearly as funny as actually hearing it, but it may help you understand how funny this was) “dis eez YOUR car, no rental” To which Liz replies back, “no, it’s a rental car”. He yells even louder “no rental, dis eez YOUR car!” She looks at me; I look back at her and shrug. I have no earthly idea what the hell is wrong with this guy, but he just keeps screaming this at her and getting himself all worked up.

So, back and forth everyone goes with paperwork, translations, random drawings, schemes to get money, etc. Liz walks over to me every now and again just to update me on the nonsense. At one point, just as randomly as before, Old Fat Sweaty Cop starts yelling at her again with his hands flying all over the place (use the accent again) “yooor GUILTEE, yooor GUILTEE”. I’m telling you, this guy was working himself into a proper lather, and I had a brief moment where I was wondering how I would get Liz out of the jail he was going to haul her off to. It was also the point at which I made the decision NOT to take pictures of this debacle, so as not to accompany her to prison. I’m truly sad I have no visual documentation of this event. He eventually stopped yelling just as abruptly as he had begun. My best guess is that is the only English he actually knows and just wanted a chance to use it. There is no other explanation that makes sense.

So, one more time Liz walks over to me to let me know how things are progressing when she is summoned back over by the young cop. Actually summoned is not the right word, she was cordially invited (employ accent again with a hand motion that points to the ground at your feet) “Meez Eee-liss-ah-bet, plees to come here”. He then asked her “what eez your fader’s last name?” Liz answers “Weisz". He then rolls his eyes, gives a huge sigh, flings his arms out and says “because eets protocol”. Liz says, “no, that’s his last name W-E-I-S-Z.” Everyone at the same time realized his mistake in thinking she asked “why” and started cracking up. I was laughing so hard I almost fell off the wall.

After that it was pretty much over with an exchange of paperwork and finally getting the car into the parking lot. While it was ultimately funny as hell, Liz was shaken enough that she decided she could not drive to Montenegro the next day and I didn’t have an international license, thus Monte –no-we-did-not-go.

sunset over Dubrovnik. I took this while Liz talked her way out of Croatian jail. Sadly, its the only footage from the accident; I was a chickenshit and wouldn't take pics of the cops.

One would think that would be the end of the day, well one would be oh so wrong. Knowing that I was disappointed at the decision to return the rental car and not go to Montenegro, Liz thought that going to a restaurant I wanted to try would help. This restaurant is called Pupo (which means belly/stomach in Croatian). I know of this establishment because of a show called Three Sheets. If you’ve never had the pleasure of watching this gem, you are missing out. Go to their website immediately then come back and read the rest of the story. In a nutshell, the host, Zane Lamprey, travels the world getting drunk on local alcoholic specialties and eating local fare. Its pure brilliance and I’m quite frankly pissed that I didn’t come up with it first. I mean really, it’s all my passions in this life: traveling, drinking, eating, acting like an ass. Perfect description don’t ya think! Anyway, Pupo was the restaurant on their Dubrovnik episode and the owner of the place got Zane completely shitcanned. I had to go.

We get to Pupo and take a table outside. Our cute waiter comes over and I asked him if he had any pictures inside of Three Sheets. He did and waived me in. In a corner is a little photo shrine and the stuffed monkey Pleeplius that he has with him on the show. What happened next is history making stuff. Liz wrote it best in an email to me the other day “cutie waiter came out of the restaurant with a big shit-eating grin on his face, shots of grappa in his hands, screaming "Three Sheets!!!" while you walked beside him with an equally large shit-eating grin on your face. As if you two were both saying to me "get ready sista ......this is going to be a long night!". And a long night it was. The owner, Viktor came out, had a drink with us, and explained how he and his restaurant ended up on the show. A different waiter named Ivan got in on the act and officially declared war on our sobriety, bringing us, by final count, 5 different types of shots/drinks on top of the litre of wine we ordered. Thank god we had the sense to order food before the nonsense started.

As the night progressed Martina, Viktor’s wife, and a Swiss couple, who knew one of Viktor’s friends, joined us as well as two American kids (Jared and Tim) from California who were also there because one of them was a fan of Three Sheets. It turned into a royal party at Pupo. Viktor and Martina lived in Dubrovnik during the war and Ivan actually fought in the conflict. They were willing to talk about their experiences and how they view things now; it was fascinating to hear people my own age discuss something so very foreign to any experience I know. With the serious conversation concluded, we turned to more trivial things, like cursing. Because we had learned to properly curse in Rome, we asked Martina to help us learn the same in Croatian; she willingly obliged. I think the restaurant officially closed at 11pm, but I know Liz, Ivan, Jared, Tim, and I were there until at least 1:30. As Ivan was closing up, I decided he and I needed to act like we were cooking in the little restaurant kitchen. Why you ask? Alcohol, I answer. The evening ended with all of us agreeing to meet back at Pupo the next night for Three Sheets Re-enactment Round 2. And oh my god did we ever!

Restaurant Pupo of Three Sheets fame

We had no idea what was about to happen to us

food, wine, and drink #2

Viktor the owner and drink#2

Ivan with drink #3

drink #4

drink #5

random British guy who walked by and Liz took his picture. Funniest t-shirt ever!

cursing in Croatian

Shrine to Three Sheets and Pleeplius the monkey

Jared, Tim, and Liz

Cooking seemed like a great idea at 1:30am

What can I say. . .

Ivan actually hit me with that thing. . . that shit hurt!