ALWAYS THE ADVENTURE: Help from strangers in Bosnia leads to a renewed faith in people

Bigfork graduate Amber McDaniel shares her adventures from a semester abroad at Oxford University and four months of backpacking across Europe.

For some reason, people associate solo travel with bravery. “You’re a very brave girl,” people always said. I found that funny, because most of the time I did not feel brave, especially days when I found myself sitting in the middle of a train platform crying over some small trip-up, which does happen from time to time. It was hard to feel brave on days like that, but then again, Socrates once said, “Courage is a sort of endurance of the soul,” and travel is nothing if not endurance.

 At the same time, maybe I never felt brave because I rarely felt like I needed to be. Another thing people asked was, “Aren’t you afraid?” My answer was almost always no.  In fact I gravitated toward the “more dangerous” places, the ones that gave me perspective of my own privilege and openly displayed the dichotomies of humanity. W.H. Auden said, “Poets love scenes of disaster,” and I am inclined to think he was right. 

I am hesitant to choose a favorite place, but if I had to, Bosnia would probably be it. When I told friends and family I was going there, the most common reaction was, “Bosnia? That sounds so dangerous. Isn’t that a war zone?” Yes, during the Bosnian War of Independence… in the 1990s. Still, Bosnia is not the place one associates with tourist destinations. It is scarred and surrounded with misconceptions and fear. I hate to say I let those misconceptions unnerve me a bit, and when I first arrived in the city of Mostar by bus at 10:30 p.m., I was terrified.  

As I wandered the dark streets trying to find my hostel, groups of men stopped to stare, cars honked as they passed by, and I suddenly felt the weight of being a female alone. Retaining my calm, I went into the first lit diner I saw, and after pathetically miming that I was lost, everyone gathered around my map. They pulled in people off the street and for the next five minutes it was utter chaos. Finally someone knew the place I was looking for and all but guided me right to the front gate where my host fed me a free hot meal before sending me off to my room.

The next day, the same thing happened when I took a late night bus into the reputably dodgy bus station of Sarajevo, Bosnia’s capital city. Before I got off the bus, a woman who had noticed me sitting alone, came up to me and said, “Look I know you’re probably perfectly capable of taking care of yourself but I live in Sarajevo and I know this bus station can be a little bit scary so I’d like to help you get where you’re going.”

Her name was Emina after telling her the name of my hostel, she said it was actually on her way home and generously let me take a taxi with her. At my hostel, I dug out some Bosnian marks, insisting on paying the minimal cab fare, but she refused. “I have a job. You don’t,” she said, handing me a business card and telling me to call if I needed anything.  

And that is only a small sampling of the kindness I was shown by complete strangers over the months. People gave me money for trams or pay toilets when I ran short, gave me directions when I looked lost, and picked me up on the side of the road when I stuck my thumb out, and I learned to let down my pride and accept the help. They fed me, sheltered me, and shared their lives with me, all for nothing but my company in return. While I will likely never see those people again to repay them, I can take their acts as inspiration to pay it forward and make the world just a little bit better. 

So while the world can be dangerous, it is also infinitely beautiful and there is no greater way to reaffirm your faith in humanity than going out there and putting yourself at its mercy.