The Café
The young adult and I are sitting on the outdoor balcony of a 10th floor café at a hotel in Sarajevo. Our serious young server who speaks minimal English stands before us. As the young adult hands money to the server to pay his check, he knocks over a glass of water. I reach to try to save the glass of water but instead knock over the young adult’s espresso… spilling coffee onto the table in the direction of the server (a very important detail!). The server looks distressed, picks up the young adult’s damp phone from the table, dries it, and hands it to the young adult.
The server steps away while another staff member walks up and cleans our table; the server returns with another water and espresso. Feeling guilty for the mess we made, I give the server a 50 mark ($25) tip. He looks even more somber, bends down to untie his left shoe, slides his heel slightly out of the shoe, and then without saying a word limps away. The young adult and I look at each other. He asks me, “What just happened?” “I think we just ordered a hit on someone,” I reply. “Or we just bought blue meth. Let’s get out of here.” The young adult downs his espresso while I grab a final photo of the view from the balcony on my phone’s camera.
We pass the server as we move toward the exit. He stops us, smiles widely, and shakes our hands vigorously. He gives both of us a piece of hard candy. We say goodbye, exiting by some steps that go down a floor to the elevator. Once at the elevator, we look up to see him coming down the steps smiling. He shakes our hands again and says something in Bosnian to another employee. Both wave at us as the elevator doors close. We wave back. Once the doors are closed, the young adult turns to me, puts his hands to his temples, widens his eyes, and exclaims, “WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!?!?!?!?”
The Background
It was day number 12 of a 16-day European adventure for me and the young adult, my 20-year-old travel charge previously referred to in this forum as “the teen.” He's a brilliant, friendly, funny young man whose mind should be exposed to far more than the small parochial southern town in which he lives. We share a common interest in history, especially military history. Last year, I took him to Normandy and Berlin. This year, I took him to Poland and Bosnia.
The Breakfast
Our day began at Halvat Guesthouse, one of those great RS-type places with a handful of rooms owned by a local family in a great location -- a block or two away from Baščaršija Square aka Pigeon Square. Our awesome hostess Valida made an amazing breakfast for us complete with Bosnian coffee, which she offered to us every time she saw us and which we gladly accepted every time it was offered!
As the radio played, Valida groaned. It was 25 May – a day of remembrance for the Tuzla massacre in which 71 people, the vast majority students, were killed when a shell hit and detonated in a café. 240 were injured. “Every day there is something sad to remember,” said Valida.
The Morning Tour
Following breakfast, we met our young, smart private guide from Funky Tours at the tour company’s office. She gave us a very nice tour of central Sarajevo that ranged from metal worker shops to the Latin Bridge where Archduke Franz Ferdinand was shot to a city park where retirees played chess on a large chess board painted on concrete to the eternal flame that recognizes Yugoslavians of all nationalities and religions who freed Sarajevo from Nazi rule. The tour concluded with… Bosnian coffee!... and conversation... at a large, open, busy coffee shop in the Baščaršija.