How can I explain the feeling I had that cool Saturday morning as we rattled our suitcases down the limestone Stradum as the whole town slept? There was so much of our vacation still ahead, so much left to see and do . . . and yet - I really didn't want to leave.
As I sit here in Mexico, in front of a fire I can still conjure up that feeling.
But leave we did. Soon we had our percussion instruments outside the gates and on board the bus to Mostar.
Crossing the border was an experience. First the Croatians checked our passports and then the officials from Bosnia-Herzegovina had a turn. We obviously had everything in order because they let the bus proceed.
The landscape was remarkable only by the dense agriculture on both sides of the road and the broad river that watered it.
There were grapevines a plenty. Since then we have learned a little about Bosnian wines. Very little is exported. However, I can suggest that if you ever have a opportunity to try a Bosnian red, don't pass!
On to Mostar!
