Sarajevo is not just a city; it’s a soul with stories. Every street, mosque, bridge, and bakery carries the fragrance of history, resilience, and a warm, welcoming culture
By Abdullah Usman Morai
Day One: April 5, 2025
Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina
Some dreams begin in childhood and wait patiently to unfold.
For me, it started with a Pakistani television drama—”Alpha Bravo Charlie.” This gripping serial, set against the backdrop of Pakistani UN peacekeeping forces deployed to Bosnia, ignited a spark in my young heart. Bosnia and Herzegovina—a name once tucked into global headlines—began to dwell in my imagination, a place of resilience, beauty, and stories that needed to be heard. And so, decades later, I found myself en route to this land of valleys and rivers, steeped in history and hope.
It was gently snowing in Stockholm when I boarded my Ryanair flight from Arlanda Airport. The cool Scandinavian breeze seemed to bid me farewell as I headed southeast toward the heart of the Balkans. Sarajevo awaited.
The flight touched down just before 6 PM. As I stepped out into the crisp Sarajevo air, I had a couple of hours to myself before my friend Jan Mangrio, flying in from Cardiff, would arrive. I passed time in a quiet airport cafeteria, then made my way to a serene mosque on the first floor, allowing the atmosphere of faith and peace to embrace me.
Jan’s arrival marked the true beginning of our Bosnian journey. Sarajevo welcomed us like an old friend—open arms, warm smiles, and a touch of grace.
We had arranged a taxi through our hotel, and our driver, Riad—a gentle, wise man juggling two jobs—was there to meet us. On the ride into the city, he narrated snippets of local life, Bosnian food traditions, and pointed out the glowing silhouettes of mosques, including what he claimed to be the largest mosque in the city. His enthusiasm was infectious, and the city outside the window came alive.
A thirty-minute drive brought us to our cozy haven, Hotel Kandilj, nestled near the city’s historic heart. The man at the reception, possibly part of the family who ran the place, was incredibly hospitable. He offered us tea bags, a bit of milk, and patiently answered all our questions—no detail too small, no request too much.
After settling in, we ventured out, braving the biting evening cold, to explore Baščaršija, Sarajevo’s enchanting old town. Cobblestone paths whispered stories of centuries gone by, and despite the chill, the streets were alive—locals chatting, tourists strolling, life unfolding at every corner.
We traced our path toward the Latin Bridge, a historic site forever linked to the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand—a spark that ignited World War I. The Miljacka River flowed silently beneath it, reflecting the soft glow of street lamps and the hum of passing trams. A city of contrasts, Sarajevo wears its past and present side by side, like a badge of honor.
Nearby, the Gazi Husrev-beg Mosque stood tall, its minarets piercing the sky, and cats danced through its courtyard like silent guardians. The lighting was ethereal, almost cinematic, casting an aura of reverence. I drank fresh water from a tap on the mosque’s madrasa wall—simple yet sacred.
Everywhere we turned, we found baklava shops, tempting us with this beloved Bosnian dessert. Sweet aromas floated through the air. At Pigeon Square—or Sebilj Square, as it’s locally known—the lingering green lights and moon-star decorations reminded us that Ramazan had recently concluded, and Eid was joyously celebrated days before. A stone inscribed with “Bursa Osman Gazi Municipality” stood nearby, perhaps symbolizing the connection with Turkish heritage—another thread in Sarajevo’s intricate cultural tapestry.
We passed by a few ancient ruins in the old town—remnants of eras that once ruled these lands, stories hidden in stone. Sarajevo, after all, is not just a city but a narrative.
Dinner was at a modest yet memorable spot—Donner, a small eatery by the Latin Bridge, run by a father and son from North Macedonia. The freshly made chicken burger and crispy French fries hit just the right notes after a long day. Simple food, made with care—it always tastes better. One word of advice: carry cash in Sarajevo, as many places prefer it.
We ended our day back at Hotel Kandilj, sipping tea, sharing thoughts, and feeling grateful. Sarajevo had opened the first page of its story to us, and we were already captivated.
Day Two: April 6, 2025
Of Snowflakes, Stories, and Sarajevo’s Soul
Morning arrived with a delicate hush—the kind that only snowflakes can bring. Tiny specks of white danced gently in the air, swirling softly outside our hotel window. The world outside looked serene yet cold. Still, the call of Sarajevo was too strong to ignore.
We descended to the basement of Hotel Kandilj, where breakfast awaited us in a charmingly decorated room filled with antique Bosnian elements—old lamps, copper jugs, and carpets whispering tales of the past. But the true host of the room was the aroma of Bosnian coffee, rich and commanding.
A few guests were already seated. Among them, an elderly couple spoke Swedish, and upon hearing familiar words, we struck up a conversation. They mentioned that most shops would be closed since it was Sunday, quite unlike Sweden where some stores remain open even on holidays. The continental breakfast was simple but fulfilling—everything we needed for the day ahead.
Stepping out once again, we retraced our path from the previous night. The Miljacka River, flowing through Sarajevo like a soft vein of history, reminded me of the Indus River, though much smaller in scale. A few photographs later, we reached the office of Meet Bosnia, the tour company that had organized our morning walking tour.
A diverse group of fellow travelers gathered—people from Germany, Belgium, France, Australia, the USA, Turkey, Honduras, the UK, Sweden, and Pakistan. Our guide, Amin, greeted us with warmth and began unveiling the layers of Sarajevo.
He led us to the Gazi Husrev-beg Library, a serene haven of knowledge. Nearby stood the elegant Gazi Husrev-beg Mosque and its adjoining madrasa, both architectural testaments to the Ottoman era. We then visited the Morića Han, an old Ottoman caravanserai now transformed into a marketplace, where cafés buzzed with life. People smoked, sipped tea, and ate leisurely in its cozy corners—an echo of an age gone by.
We wandered through the Sebilj Square—also called Pigeon Square—where birds fluttered freely among locals and visitors. The Sarajevo City Hall stood proud, and we paused at the famous #Sarajevo photo spot. Amin pointed toward the path leading to the Yellow Fortress and the Sarajevo Cable Car, our destination for later in the day.
By the Latin Bridge, Amin spoke passionately about the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, which occurred just nearby—an event that ignited the flames of World War I. The moment felt heavy with history.
We also passed by the Sacred Heart Cathedral, and the Cathedral of the Nativity of the Theotokos, both testaments to Sarajevo’s multicultural soul. On Ferhadija Street, we paused at the spot marked “Meeting of Cultures”, a symbolic point where East and West converge. Our last stop was just outside a synagogue, before we returned to the Meet Bosnia office. The two-hour tour, based on tips, felt like a priceless experience.
Later, we explored the old town on our own. Souvenir and clothing shops lined the cobbled alleys, and elderly women sold handmade tasbeehs and trinkets, their wrinkled smiles full of warmth. We stopped at a baklava shop, run by two young women—one with a scarf, one without. When they learned we were from Pakistan, their faces lit up. One of them shared that she was once engaged to a Pakistani man, but fate had other plans.
Back at the hotel, we savored the baklava with tea—a perfect midday treat. After a bit of rest, we set out again, this time to pray at the Emperor’s Mosque (Careva Džamija), one of the oldest in Sarajevo. Just as we were about to begin, a young man joined us—Erman, a Bosnian stage actor from Tuzla, who offered to lead the Zuhr and Asr prayers. He carried a quiet strength, a kind of spiritual presence that lingered even after the last “Ameen.” As we prayed, a cat brushed past us—a subtle reminder that Sarajevo belongs to its people and animals alike.
The mosque’s interior, modeled after Ottoman-Turkish architecture, was serene and soul-soothing. Nearby, an old graveyard stood watch, and a quiet café nestled in the courtyard offered tea under bare branches.
Next on our list was the Sarajevo Cable Car, leading to Mount Trebević. Not far from the mosque, we reached the base station, bought our tickets, and began the slow, scenic ascent. As the cabin rose, Sarajevo unfurled beneath us like a living map—the Yellow and White Fortresses, City Hall, and the Miljacka River now miniatures below us.
At the top, snow blanketed everything. Children squealed with joy, Arab families roamed happily, and couples strolled hand-in-hand. The crisp mountain air, the tall whispering pines, and the views stretching for miles made it one of the most memorable moments of the day. We took photos, walked, and soaked in the calmness. Sarajevo from above looked like a poem.
Descending back to the city, we returned to Sebilj Square, where pigeons fluttered fearlessly, feeding from the palms of excited children. The city’s heartbeat was here—alive and generous.
Hungry, we followed Riad’s recommendation and asked our hotel for directions to a place serving the famed Ćevapi (sometimes called chebapi). We arrived at a small, welcoming restaurant run by two women in their fifties. Though their English was limited, their hospitality was limitless. The grilled minced small finger meat kebabs tucked inside warm pita bread was mouthwatering—a perfect balance of flavor and tradition.
Full and content, we drifted back through Baščaršija, the old town now gently glowing under the evening lights. Tired but fulfilled, we returned to our hotel and ended the day with cups of tea, quiet conversation, and the lingering magic of Sarajevo.
Whispers of Sarajevo: A Journey Through History, Hospitality, and Heart
Day 3: 7th April 2025 –
Tracing Courage, Chasing Views, and Cherishing Moments
The third morning in Sarajevo began with familiarity—the comforting rhythm of our trip had taken shape. Wake up, freshen up, and head down to the quaint basement of Hotel Kandilj where the aroma of Bosnian coffee once again warmly hugged the air. The breakfast area felt like a small gathering of familiar faces. The elderly Swedish couple was there too, smiling as always, and we continued our easygoing conversations. They shared their love for the Balkan region, especially Sarajevo, admiring how this once war-torn city had risen with grace, now bustling with life, culture, and curious travelers.
Our plan for the day was ambitious yet exciting: we were heading to the famous Tunnel of Hope—also known as the Tunnel of Life, a symbol of resistance and resilience during the siege of Sarajevo.
We decided to try public transport this time, taking a local bus from Trg Austrije, not far from our hotel. The receptionist had guided us to get off at the last stop, Dobrinja, and walk from there. Once we alighted, we asked the bus driver about the tunnel museum. He suggested walking back a couple of signals and taking a left. We followed that advice, which amusingly led us the wrong way.
The cold breeze and scattered snowflakes added to the feeling of being slightly lost, but in those moments of wandering, one often discovers hidden truths. That’s how we found out we had unknowingly entered another administrative entity within Bosnia and Herzegovina—Republika Srpska, also called RS. This area is predominantly Serb, one of the two constitutional and legal entities of the country, the other being the Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina. It was a surprise and a lesson in the complex post-war geography of this land.
Eventually, after many steps and kind directions, we reached our goal. But the adventure wasn’t over—we were told that the entrance fee could only be paid in Bosnian Convertible Marks (BAM). No cards, no Euros. So we walked again to a nearby shop to exchange our money.
Finally, we entered the Tunnel of Hope Museum—a place that silently screams history. Built beneath Sarajevo Airport, this tunnel connected the besieged city to the outside world. During the siege from 1992 to 1996, this narrow underground passage was the city’s only lifeline, used to transport food, medicine, and even injured people. The museum includes a preserved section of the tunnel, an exhibition hall with photographs, war memorabilia, and an emotional short documentary that shows the making of the tunnel. It was heartbreaking yet inspiring to see how ordinary citizens turned into heroes during those dark days.
Curiously, while they didn’t accept cards for tickets, their souvenir shop had no issue accepting them—a light-hearted irony we chuckled over.
Afterward, we returned by bus to the city and took a peaceful tea break in the small garden of our hotel. We chatted with the receptionist about the ćevapi we had tried the night before and told him we now had our sights on burek, the beloved meat-filled pastry. He recommended a place to try it in the evening.
Later in the day, we ventured into the vibrant Gazi Husrev-beg Bezistan, a covered bazaar from the Ottoman period. This historical shopping arcade felt like a treasure trove, filled with local crafts, textiles, and souvenirs. The cobblestone paths, the warm shopkeepers, and the scent of traditional Bosnian goods created a beautiful nostalgia.
As the sun began to set—or at least tried to peek from behind the clouds—we made our way toward the Yellow Fortress for what we hoped would be a sunset view. From Sebilj Square, the climb began. Winding paths, narrow lanes, and the deepening silence of the evening led us uphill. Halfway, we reached the Kovači Cemetery, the graveyard of martyrs, where thousands of war victims, including Alija Izetbegović, Bosnia’s first president, are laid to rest. The names of martyrs etched on the memorial wall spoke volumes about the price of peace.
We passed by Otvoreni Amfiteatar, an open-air amphitheater that hosts cultural and musical events. Though quiet during our visit, it echoed with the energy of Sarajevo’s artistic spirit.
At the Yellow Fortress, the city unfolded before us like a painting. Red-roofed houses, green minarets, the curve of the Miljacka River, and misty mountains wrapped Sarajevo in serenity. The sun was shy, hiding behind clouds, only peeking occasionally—like a child playing hide and seek. Tourists all around us held their phones, cameras, and hopes high, trying to capture the golden hour that never fully arrived.
Descending the hill, we explored some more corners of the old town and eventually headed for dinner. The restaurant was Buregdžinica Bosna, where the air was filled with the scent of freshly baked burek—crispy pastry filled with minced meat and served with yogurt. It was run by a middle-aged man and two friendly young women. One of them, wearing a scarf, loved to chat. We talked about Sarajevo, her curiosity about Pakistan, and the Arabic verse on the wall. She surprised us by reading it and sharing that she learned Arabic through the Quran. We explained how our Sindhi language shares similar alphabets and sounds, and that we could read Persian as well.
After this soul-warming dinner, we visited the Emperor’s Mosque to offer Maghrib prayer. Inside, a group of children were memorizing the Quran. The calm, the recitation, and the spiritual air of the mosque melted away the cold of the night.
Back at the hotel, we packed our bags. Tomorrow, we would part ways with Sarajevo. But the night was spent reflecting, reminiscing, and sharing multiple rounds of tea, soaking in all the beauty we had witnessed.
Conclusion: Sarajevo, You Whispered to Our Souls
Sarajevo is not just a city; it’s a soul with stories. Every street, mosque, bridge, and bakery carries the fragrance of history, resilience, and a warm, welcoming culture. In just three days, the city left deep footprints on our hearts. The sights, the sounds, the snowflakes, the conversations with strangers, and the taste of burek and baklava made this journey unforgettable.
As we parted ways at the airport—me catching my flight first, Jan waving goodbye, and the familiar Swedish couple in the distance—Sarajevo waved back in its quiet way. From the window of the plane, I saw people entering the Tunnel Museum, just like we did, carrying with them the torch of remembrance.
Sarajevo—until we meet again, maybe on another spring morning, maybe under another snowfall.
Read: Travelogue: A Winter Adventure in Porto, Portugal
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Abdullah Soomro, penname Abdullah Usman Morai, hailing from Moro town of Sindh, province of Pakistan, is based in Stockholm Sweden. Currently he is working as Groundwater Engineer in Stockholm Sweden. He did BE (Agriculture) from Sindh Agriculture University Tando Jam and MSc water systems technology from KTH Stockholm Sweden as well as MSc Management from Stockholm University. Beside this he also did masters in journalism and economics from Shah Abdul Latif University Khairpur Mirs, Sindh. He is author of a travelogue book named ‘Musafatoon’. His second book is in process. He writes articles from time to time. A frequent traveler, he also does podcast on YouTube with channel name: VASJE Podcast.
