Day 11 Balkans Trip. Day in Sarajevo

 April 27. A day in Sarajevo 

The day started simply enough: a wake-up at Central Hotel Sarajevo, where the mattresses are… let’s call them firm with conviction. I shook that off with a solid workout in the hotel’s excellent gym, followed by a genuinely impressive breakfast buffet—one of those spreads that makes you linger just a little longer than planned.

We met up with Mak, our guide for the day, whose story immediately grounded everything that followed. He had escaped the siege of Sarajevo as a child and found refuge in Switzerland before eventually returning home. That perspective shaped the entire tour—this wasn’t just history, it was lived experience.

Mak, at 4 1/2 years old, papers as refugee

We began in the heart of Baščaršija, where the energy feels like a crossroads of empires. The narrow streets carry a distinct blend of Ottoman and Austro-Hungarian influence, especially after the occupation of 1878. It’s part market, part social hub—shops spilling into walkways, the scent of grilled meats and coffee in the air, and a rhythm that feels both old and very alive.

Mak walked us through the pivotal moment that reshaped the world. Near Latin Bridge, we stood on the very street where Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated. He had been trying to reach Hotel Europe—its recognizable brown façade still standing today—when Gavrilo Princip, a member of the Black Hand, fired the shot. One act that triggered a chain reaction leading to World War I and ultimately the loss of tens of millions of lives. Standing there, it’s surreal how ordinary the setting feels compared to the magnitude of what happened.

We passed through Pigeon Square—locals and visitors mingling among the ever-present birds—before hopping on a tram out to a virtual reality museum. The VR experience added another layer, reconstructing moments from Sarajevo’s past in a way that made them feel immediate and immersive, not distant and abstract. Along the way, Mak explained the nostalgia many still feel for the former Yugoslavia—often referred to as Tito’s republic—a complicated legacy wrapped in both unity and hardship, Yugo nostalgic.

Back in the old town, we stopped for lunch at Ćevabdžinica Hodžić, where we ordered a classic local dish: Ćevapi. The small, hand-rolled sausages came tucked into warm somun bread, served with chopped onions and a side of creamy kajmak. Simple, hearty, and absolutely satisfying—it’s the kind of meal that tells you a lot about a place in just a few bites.

After lunch, we soaked in the atmosphere a bit longer before shifting gears again—this time physically.

The hike up to the Yellow Fortress is short but steep, and the payoff is immediate. From the top, Sarajevo stretches out in every direction, ringed by mountains. But the view carries weight. From that vantage point, it’s painfully clear how the city endured the Siege of Sarajevo for nearly four years. Looking out over a nearby Muslim cemetery, rows upon rows marking roughly 1,500 fallen soldiers, the scale of loss becomes impossible to ignore. Buildings still standing bear silent witness—some once burned, some still scarred. It’s a sobering place, one that shifts your perspective whether you expect it or not.

On the way back down, we stumbled across a small café aptly named Specialty Coffee. By chance, we met the owner as he was parking his car, and in classic Sarajevo fashion, he insisted we come in. After great coffee, he surprised us with free baklava—an unprompted act of generosity that felt completely in line with everything we’d experienced throughout the day.

Earlier, back at the hotel, Alma at the front desk had shared her own story of life during the siege—harrowing, personal, and unforgettable. She also told us she had participated in the opening ceremony of the 1984 Winter Olympics, a reminder of a very different Sarajevo not so long before the war. What stood out most was her message: teaching the next generation not to hate.

Bullet riddled buildings

That theme carried through every interaction. The people of Sarajevo are remarkably warm and open, and the fact that this comes from a place with such a recent and turbulent past makes it all the more meaningful. Nearly everyone we met had a story, and every story added another layer to understanding this city—not just what it has been through, but how it continues to move forward