Transit on Hard Mode

Bus stations in Eastern Europe go hard.

Not the nice ones, with brand new shiny Green Mercedes Flixbuses queueing up for a short hop across the Baltics. No, the stations where only the hardest of local geezers hop onto a slightly decaying locally-owned bus heading on a punishing international route. These guys think nothing of a mere 22.5 hour journey from the heart of the Balkans all the way to destinations such as Frankfurt.

In Sarajevo we found the ultimate expression of such a space. A place with scant regard for any kind of pre-planned timetable, where the stench of cigarettes emanating from the walls has a half-life of about a millennium, and you never find what you want to eat in the station shop. Drinks, tissues, tobacco, dry noodles, fridge magnets and some random Balkan political magazines- of course - but never a decent sandwich or something substantial to help get you through. Cracked floors, and rows of plastic seats seem designed to discourage comfort. Somehow though, it will always do. 

Dilapidated, in need of a lick of paint or two, but full of suspense, and acting as a passage to the next dimension, the Eastern European bus station is the definition of a liminal space - and we’re here for it.

This is indeed travel on the hard mode. But, when you’re navigating your way past some potentially dubious-looking characters on your way to embark, you get the feeling that the next, exciting chapter is not far away, and you have the whole journey to focus on what might be next. Or, you can spend the journey ruminating on the past - up to you - but we recommend the former.