Britt-Arnhild's House in the Woods

The Sarajevo Haggadah, or Booktalk on a Sunday 41

Text and images Britt-Arnhild Wigum Lindland

It is almost a year since we visited Bosnia. Some time during the winter I got a facebook friend from Sarajevo. He posts the most stunning, beautiful photos of his city and his country. Even though I used every minutes the few days we spent in Sarajevo, I realise that I have seen almost nothing. I open Faruk's photos again and again, I read Rebecca West's Black Lamb and Grey Falcon, and I want to go back!!!

 
During our days in Sarajevo we tried to find out where to see The Sarajevo Haggadah. As it is shown to public only four days a year it was impossible for us, but in the Jewish Synagogue we were able to see a copy. A few weeks ago another copy was here in Trondheim for one day only. Of course I went there to see.

 
The Sarajevo Haggadah has the most fascinating history. Geraldine Brooks has used this story as a background when writing her book The People of the Book. A book well worth reading.

 
Visiting the jewish Synagogue here in Trondheim to see the copy of The Sarajevo Haggadah made me want to go back to Sarajevo.....once again.

 

Lat autumn a blog reader sent me Steven Galloway's The Cellist of Sarajevo. Yo-Yo Ma plays The Cellist of Sarajevo by David Vilde on his cd The Essential. I play it over and over again, remembering the sad, dramatic history of Sarajevo abd the Bosnian people, once again looking at Faruk's stunning photos,, reading yet again pages from Rebecca West's book.

Sarajevo, one day you'll have me back.

Bosnian coffee

There is something about coffee. Not that I can say it tastes nice, or yummy or anything. More like gold, like being together, sharing thoughts, stories, memories.

Coffee in Norway is different from coffee in Italy, in France, in Eritrea......

....yes, let's talk about Eritrea. I have visited the country twice and both times I've been invited for coffee. An honor. Which takes a long, long time, starting with the burning of the coffee beans. I have a collection of Eritrean clay coffee pots. Every time I look at them I am reminded of a country, a people, friends, drinking coffee together.

In Sarajevo we were met by Bosnian coffee, influenced by the Arabs, just like they are in Eritrea. Coming into the basar at night was like walking into 1001 Nights. We ended our dinner with coffee, and felt like staying on, listening to stories. Well, if not 1001 of them, at least a whole coffee pot full.

It took me no time to realize that my Eritrea coffee pot collection needed company by a Bosnian set, a round plate, two small cups, a smal kind of pot and bowl or saucer for the sugar, or the Turkish delight......

 

In the basar there were at least 1001 different designs to choose among. Hard to decide which one to buy.

A plate for a coffee set in progress, made by a local artist.

Night two in Sarajevo ended with coffee as well, how could it not. It's lika a fairytale, isn't it..... Can you see us, in the deepest corner....the corner where tales are told.....

Coffee......a drink for the Gods......and luckily for you and  me as well.

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How is it, do you have a coffee tale to share? I will make myself a cup of coffee, I will make one for you as well, and we can sit down for a chat.

Booklovers united, or The Sarajevo Haggadah

Part, an important part, of preparing for a travel is the reading in advance. Maps, guidebooks, biographies, novels, poems, travel magazines. So also before our two weeks in Croatia and Bosnia&Herzegovina. Back in February, in London, I found several books in a travel book store, among them Rebecca West's Black Lamb and Grey Falcon. With its about 1300 pages I could do well with only one book,.......or......

Of course I couldn't. During spring and early summer I found more stuff to read, a National Geographic Traveler's supplement about The Western Balcans, an Eyewitness Guide to Croatia, a novel here, a travel book there, and a for me almost unknown part of the world came more and more alive.

Then, while walking through a bookstore downtown Trondheim one morning, I found Geraldine Brooks The People of the Book, and while reading it I learned about the Sarajevo Haggadáh, probably the most valuable book of the world today. My sister in law had found the same book, and so both of us knew what we wanted to see when we came to sarajevo.

The haggadáh of course.

After berakfast we went over to the Tourist Office in old town Sarajevo, and my first question was; where can I see the haggadáh?

No luck!

"I am sorry madam. The Haggadáh can be seen only four days a year, the last time was three days ago. Then there is a copy to be seen, but to do that you have to book in advance.......", then, watching my face, the young girl continued...."there is one other copy though, in the Jewish Museum"

So there we went, and saw a copy from the 1960ies, and later in the day we passed the majestetic National Library/The City Hall, now under renovation after heavy bombing during the Yugoslavian war.

Last night I read the last of the short stories in Miljenko Jergovic's Sarajevo Marlboro where he writes about the fatal burning of millions of books in Sarajevo during the war, and came to the last paragraph:

"You can never list or recall the private libraries that have burned down in Sarajevo. And why should you? But the fate of the Sarajevo University Library, its famous city hall, whose books took a whole night and a day to go up iun flames, will be remembered as the fire to end all fires, a last mythical celebration of ash and dust......"

Books are part of my life, jiust as important as love, breathing, water and bread. And coklours of course.......

Bosnian coffee, exploring the world

Cappuccino in the mornings, but when night came only Bosnian coffee could do. In my imagination Sarajevo was "just another" European city. What a surprise then to find so much Turkish, so much Ottoman influence.

Walking into the bazar was like stepping into 1001 Night.......far, far from the modern malls of Western Europe.

Do I need to say what I prefere?

Coming to a new place, leaving your luggage at the hotel, the guesthouse, the flat or wherever you are staying, walking out in the afternoon. Openminded. Blank pages waiting to be filled. Watching åeoåle and life. Differences. Similarities.

Do I need to repeat that I love to travel........

Postcard from Sarajevo

Sarajevo. In my imagination it used to be a name of a city, former Yugoslavia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, winter olympics in 1984, the start of WWI.

Then, one early morning I sit down with my first cappuccino of the day, open Rebecca West's Black Lamb and Grey Falcon and read almost the same words as I have just written down in my red diary:

....standing on the bridge over which the Archeduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife would have driven on the morning of June the twenty-eight, 1914, if they had not been shot by a Bosnian named Gavrilo Princip, just as their car was turning off the embankment......crossed to the other bank, where there was a little park with a café in it. We (I, as I was alone) sat and drank coffee.

Postcard from Mostar

Morning coffee in Mostar, all by myself while the others are still sleeping. It's their problem that they sleep during the best part of the day, isn't it :-)