Bratislava to Sarajevo? Wasn’t it meant to be Bratislava to Thessaloniki? A cursory check that I had the right departure time before leaving the hostel for the airport alerted me to something that was very wrong. Suspends operations??? SkyEurope bankrupted, and around five hours before we were due to fly the fleet was grounded. So what to do?

There were other flight options to Thessaloniki, most involving connections in Germany or Athens, and none were cheap. The ‘cheap’ options consisted of waiting almost a week and catching a flight direct from Prague in the Czech Republic. Given that we’d already spent a few days more in Bratislava than it warranted it seemed as though treading water in expensive and busy Prague for another week would be a bit of a waste.

With flying out of the question a scan of bus and train timetables sprouted a few options, but the standout in the crowd was Sarajevo, Bosnia and Hercegovina. All agreed and within a few minutes we were out of Patio Hostel’s door and on the tram to the train station. The train runs a few times a day from Bratislava to Budapest and we were lucky enough to get tickets for one that was pulling out just a few minutes later.

We shared the journey with a Slovakian who has lived and worked for the last eight years as a diver in the Red Sea at Sharm el Sheikh in Egypt. His father had bestowed upon him a couple of bottles of Slivovica – a triple distilled brandy made from fruit, and in this case apricots. A round of beers and a couple of shots of the beautiful Slivovica and the trip was over – we were back in Budapest.

Now don’t get me wrong, Budapest is stunning, an absolutely beautiful city built on the banks of the Danube, but her and I just haven’t hit it off. And to be fair, it’s me, not her. Most of our problems relate to sleep deprivation – the two times I attempted to go into the city from the Sziget festival essentially became escapes to drink strong coffee before heading back for another sleepless night. And so again I visited Budapest without really getting to know her, as I was on the train to Sarajevo less than 20 hours after arriving.

Before we left the train station for our hostel we decided to buy our tickets to Sarajevo, in case anyone is curious, €55, departs from Keleti train station at 10.00am at Platform 13. This info was available on the wikitravel page for Sarajevo – another piece of information that was on the page which I should’ve given more credence was that the restaurant car would be unhitched at Pecs. This town on the southern border of Hungary is a mere two hours into the trip, at which time the train becomes a two carriage slow express to Bosnia. No drinks, no food, and at most times, no air conditioning; for ten more hours.

The somewhat monotonous scenery is interrupted four times by borders at which time the train will stop for up to 30 minutes for passport controls – leaving Hungary, entering Croatia, leaving Croatia, before finally entering Bosnia. More passport stamps in ten hours than I’d scored in the last month in Europe.

Knowing our arrival into Sarajevo would be late we had pre-booked accommodation at SA Guesthouse and Hostel. We just had to give them a buzz upon arriving and they’d send a car around to pick us up. Perfect if you’ve got a working phone, but in a city that requires pre-paid cards to use public phones and no-one around selling them we were in a bit of a fix. First interactions with locals in a new country can leave a lasting impression; approached by a guy asking if we wanted accommodation I told him that we’d already booked but needed to ring. Without hesitation he gave me his mobile phone to call with, and once I’d returned it he disappeared without a trace asking nothing in return. A few minutes later a tiny old Skoda had arrived and we piled in with our packs and were on our way.

Apparent immediately in Sarajevo is that you’re in a very different part of Europe – the architecture is unique, the exotic smells of coffee, cevapi, and sheesha smoke fill the air, and there are more minarets in the city than I’ve ever seen. Once our bags were dropped off and our beds sorted we ventured down the hill to the Baščaršija (the Turkish Old Town/Quarter) to get a burek for dinner. At the time I didn’t know, but these tasty pastries filled with your choice of meat, cheese, potato or other delicious fillings were about to become a mainstay of my diet in the Balkans.

Our first morning in Sarajevo and we had mixed opinions on the hostel that we’d spent the night in so we went exploring the next morning for other options. Like much of Eastern Europe it’s as easy as knocking on doors that are advertising rooms, zimmer, sobe or any other translation for ‘you give me money, I give you room.’ We had a bit of luck and got a great apartment right at the tram stop in front of the Baščaršija for €15 each per night.

If you’re going to be a tourist in a city like Sarajevo and enjoy the food, nightlife, coffee and culture, then it’s only responsible that you spend the few dollars it costs to visit the Sarajevo History Museum. On first glance you’ll feel slightly ripped off as you meander past scores of batons that were a part of Communist leader Tito’s Youth Relay, and a poorly presented portrait gallery of Tito. A short walk upstairs and the museum turns into a deeply personal display of photographs, newspaper clippings, UN documents and children’s diary entries from the war.

Sarajevo was under siege from the Yugoslavian army for nearly four years from 1992 to 1996. This was a war when I was in secondary school, me, not my grandparents like the other European wars. As an outsider it is difficult to comprehend the strength and resilience of the residents of Sarajevo. There was scarcely a single day in which there weren’t snipers shooting at people in the streets, or mortars landing in houses. Even today the damage to buildings is evident; shelled houses and pockmarked walls make up much of the urban landscape.

The United Nations sent peacekeepers, but there was no peace to keep, and thanks to Russia vetoing any resolution to make peace at the Security Council the soldiers wearing blue berets were powerless to stop the attacks. After a busy market was attacked for the third time NATO finally found the stomach to do something and launched an air assault against enemy positions in the mountains surrounding Sarajevo.

You can’t help but admire the courage, strength and self belief that Sarajevo’s citizens had during the war. Turning from a wall displaying photographs and newspaper clippings of yet another atrocity suffered by civilians the next wall is plastered not with war, but with posters for the Sarajevo Festival of Arts 1994. Not willing to bow to the enormous pressure of a modern day siege Sarajevo successfully hosted its annual arts festival, boldly declaring itself the Cultural Capital of Europe. Sarajevo doesn’t want you to cry for her, not now and not during the siege and the determination of the citizens is summed up in another Festival poster – Sarajevo – To Be Or Not To Be: There Is No Question.

Sarajevo did survive and the landscape is changing, new buildings are replacing shelled ones, streets are getting repaired, restaurants are filling with tourists, but it is with an air of grace and beauty and though the city is moving on it isn’t forgetting. The Sarajevo Roses – sections of mortar shelled pavement that were filled with symbolically red concrete – are slowly blending in with the daily life and often are no longer recognisable. Yet the city remains short of parks, playgrounds and football pitches, all are filled with headstones, a daily reminder that even today around Bosnia mass graves are being uncovered.

It was tough to leave Sarajevo after spending just a few days there, but with so many great places to visit in the Balkans we really couldn’t afford to wait any longer. I’m grateful that I got to visit Sarajevo before the budget airlines and mass tourism arrived, because it will happen, and rightly so, and I will be back with them.