Stands selling oranges frequented the E73 road from Dubrovnik to Mostar. The border crossing from Croatia to Bosnia-Herzegovina was more a formality than anything else. After Nebo, my driver, passed back my passports, he declared that hostilities still lurked underneath the surface “Remember,” he said, “Mostar was shelled by both the Serbs and the

When a place lends itself to the leisure of other people it generally becomes a haven for the lewd and the superficial. I am now in the fifteenth month of a backpacking journey that has taken me to some of the less contemporary parts of the world. In speaking with people and seeing their ways I have found that culture, above all things, is what makes a country