Tale of Bus from Mostar II

18 Jun

At 4.30pm

Parvin excused herself so unwillingly from the people she has grown so comfortably with…and walked confidently towards her hostel.

Her tale: I left the restaurant at 4.45pm confident that i would find my way back, i always do.  I left the old, familiar cobbled stones to walk by the road because i thought i was walking in the correct direction. At some point of time, i felt i was right and then it struck me that i might be walking further away from my apartment which might cause me to miss the 5.30pm bus.

There was no one in sight, i couldnt find the number to call for a taxi (i threw it in my huge bag and couldnt find it when i needed it most!). I searched frantically for someone to ask for directions and the first man i saw, could not help as he didnt know where i was going. Blame language barrier! I was afraid i was on the wrong side; the city was divided into 2 – the Bosniaks and Croats along the Neretva river (beautiful turqoise river!)

Time was ticking. Getting lost was the worst thing that could happen to me, travelling all alone! (serve me right) With quite a useless, self-drawn map…chances of finding my way was very slim.


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