Sarajevo: A Love Letter From a Girl Madly in Love + My Top 10 Nooks

sarajevo, bosnia
in
Old Town, Sarajevo, Bosnia and and Herzegovina

Old Town, Sarajevo, Bosnia and and Herzegovina

I feel a piece of my soul dislodged itself from my body and hid itself in Sarajevo pre-birth. I have so much love for this city that I have had to force myself to write about it. I want it to stay my hidden diamond forever, but the world needs to know the endless troves of beautiful humanity that dwell within its streets. Pardon me and my appropriately partitioned romanticism.

I will always be grateful to my friends Lejla and Adi who first showed me the beauty and strength of their home that, despite atrocities, has walked out of the tunnel to greet everyone with a smile and ask them for a dance.

One sentiment you will not find here is pity. Yes, the people have been through recent destruction. But if you are so lucky to venture here, you’ll understand that these people have always been jovial beings sans even the slightest hint of bullshittery. They’ll give you the shirt off their back with a smile and will also tell it like it is till the cows come home. Bad things sometimes happen to really good people who make great fucking coffee.

The mountains and city of Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina

The mountains and city of Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina

Looking over the city’s entire geography feels like admiring a carefully woven sweetgrass basket similar to the ones I used to eye during summer trips to South Carolina as a child. Women at the Charleston street markets would sit in the humidity weaving their happiness, sadness, anger, and dreams into entire blocks-worth of these vessels.

Sarajevo is surrounded by mountains on all sides with the center nestled in the heart of the round. Standing at one edge of this natural coliseum, I felt the pulse below my feet of one of the many threads that have woven this magical place into a goldmine of culture, community, and coeur.

Favorite number on a street in Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina

Favorite number on a street in Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina

You’d be good to spend your days simply strolling from coffee house to coffee house, but because I’m a gracious host with the scoop on some of my most favorite spots in the world, here’s a list for you:

 

Zlatna ribica

That translates to Golfish. This is, to date, my favorite bar in the world. If you’re an old soul who loves collecting postcards, knick knacks, memorabilia, Edison lighting, and dark corners, this place is for you. The (often times only 1) employees look like they walked out of the 20s and the drinks are served in glasses you’d see on Mad Men. It’s such a visual and immersive experience that I’d rather you read this and just go. Don’t look up pictures. Order plum brandy for what equates to $3 USD.  

 

Havana

I’ve had the strangest and most wonderful chance encounters in this bar. Doesn’t hurt that their music solely consists of superb live local music and throwback American jams. Either famous Bosian musicians will be on stage or you will be twerkin’ to Baby Got Back. Those are your only two options. Go here for a more rowdy night out.

 

Čajdžinica Džirlo

Oh, man. There are coffee shops. Then there’s Čajdžinica Džirlo. Frequented by age-old locals and tourists alike, the place will just never feel gimmicky no matter how popular it gets. I sat in this place for hours daily getting to know the coffeetender whose matronly spirit was impressed upon every patron. It might as well have been my living room if my living room were adorned with colorful fabrics and walled with jars of medicinally-oriented tea leaves. It’s just that damn cozy and then some.

 

Morića han

I put this as the destination to get you to this general area. This is a little cave-esque spot in the old town that’s part marketplace, part coffee shop, and part restaurant. It’s hidden away so you wouldn’t know about it unless you happened upon it. The market in here is one of the most colorful and beautiful spots in the entire old town. It’s darker and lit up by hand-painted lights. Go get swept away.

 

Egipat

So let’s forget about what seems to be overtly racist signage above this tiny, tiny gelato shop in the city’s main square (right near the cathedral). It’s only a dancing Egyptian, but I can’t help but think it’s an unkind antiquated cartoon. This is not your average gelato. Think creamier and textured slightly like caramel. You can get all 4 of the only flavors they offer. Get at least 1.  

 

Inat Kuća

Also known in English as the House of Spite. Basically at the end of the 1800’s Sarajevo started demolishing buildings in order to erect a new city hall. One old man owned a house on a plot of land the city needed for the new structure. He refused every monetary offer the city proposed for years. Finally, he accepted a bag of gold for the land--with one condition. He commanded the city rebuild his house right across the river brick-by-brick. Exactly. I don’t know who this man is, but he’s my hero. Now it’s a restaurant. Ask to eat in the attic. Bring a date if you can find one. Exchange flirty banter for stubborn hard-to-get insults the entire time.

 

Petica

Sorry but you haven’t had ćevapi until you’ve had it in Sarajevo and you haven’t have ćevapi in Sarajevo until you’ve had it from Petica. Order with a kupus and paradajz salad (cabbage and tomato).

 

Forino

Burek. Fast food. But still real food. You will dream of it post-consummation. Meat or cheese or spinach wrapped in dough. That’s about it.

 

The Four Rooms of Mrs. Safija

In the afternoon, enjoy the outdoor patio with some delicious local wine. At night, go here for a fabulous dinner with local and foreign influences. Walk through the rooms. Be a lady. Get into trouble. This place is beauty and grace and enough history to possibly have dirty secrets. Ponder them while you feast.

 

Kibe

This is your grand finale of Saraejvo. Located at the very top of the northern mountains, Kibe is nestled between houses and even looks like a house itself. Beginning as a local food stand, this restaurant has grown over the years to celebrity-visiting status without the pomp. You’ll get beautiful, unique architecture, extremely local food, and a panoramic view of the city. Getting there before sunset and sitting on the top floor is highly recommended.

 

Upon finishing this line-up, I realize my list is mostly comprised of food and drink. This, however, is Sarajevo. Relax. Move with the city. Don’t do too much. Walk along the river. If anything, Sarajevo is about being. Not doing.

The only sight I would highly recommend seeing is the 1984 Olympic Bobsleigh Tracks. They’re outside the city, but worth the trek.

Bobsleigh Tracks of the 1984 Olympics, Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina

Bobsleigh Tracks of the 1984 Olympics, Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina

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Malibu couldn't be more of a dream come true. Thank you for all you've given me so far: inspiration, love, hope, spark, motivation, and stillness. Thank you for everything that is yet to come. My heart belongs to you. #malibu #california #malibumorni
As soon as I land here, my body drinks up the moisture and my skin and heart are revived. My body knows it was born and bred here. Traveling the world has made me so grateful for my home. Shout out to my Dad's '90s truck that still runs like new and
En route to Denver ⛰ #southernbelle #nomad #roadtrip
Nothing like day drinking in a tiny town. Helllllo, Durango 🦌
Dandelion wishes 💫

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No Longer A Rolling Stone. Kind Of.

Los Angeles, CA
in
Franklin Canyon, Los Angeles

Franklin Canyon, Los Angeles

The past couple of months have been one giant step forward followed by the sensation of finding my footing and praying to jesus christo I don't fall over or down. The step forward was an amalgamation of realizations, among them that I didn't want to live in Paris, I wanted to live in California, I didn't want to be a professional nomad, I still wanted to travel the world, and I wanted to begin creating a solid foundation for the rest of my life.

Cool, right? Up until the waning of 2016 post-college, I had mostly worked, saved, traveled, worked, saved, chilled, travelled with no real end in sight. That was all good and well until I realized I have the capabilities to create the life I truly want. A life that has roots with the possibility of regularly residing on the stems.

To really land on that directional shift and lean into it was a special kind of liberation. To realize structure isn’t an opponent of adventure. To realize creating a home doesn’t have to be settling. And better yet, that settling isn’t inherently a bad word. My child self was like "woah, this is some adult stuff!"

The most exciting of all is creating a life. Creating a life! It’s like being 5 years old again and only picking the Starburst flavors that make my tongue dance (pink, duh). I can aim for a career that allows me to bring in regular income and travel. I can live in a place that allows me to revel in the city life and the rural life. I can be a regular at a grocery store or a bar and walk into a new spot anytime I want and become a stranger like I would in Sarajevo or Copenhagen to get the mysterious fix I crave.

I can live somewhere long enough to foster a loving community of friends I’ve so longed for my entire life. I can create a home for myself where I can rest, relax, and retreat. I can leave that home whenever I want when I’m itching to be nomadic.

To really feel that the two opposites in me—the rooted Southern home-maker and the free-spirited, untamed renaissance woman—can truly coincide in harmony is a relief. But the day-to-day pendulum between the two is still a balancing act (one I look forward to expounding upon here in the coming weeks). 

The other side of creating a life perfectly tailored for me? CREATING A LIFE PERFECTLY TAILORED FOR ME?! Wait, how do I do that? Where do I start? What is this perfect job that’s going to allow me to actually make money and travel? Where is this community of people? Probably somewhere drinking champagne, meditating, and not eating kimchi. California is actually an entire state…Well, at least I got a state, but jeez, I could’ve picked one with a smaller land mass so I could have, ya know, fewer cities to choose from as home.

As it turns out, with one stone turned comes another stoned covered with beautiful, glistening moss I will gleefully and most likely awkwardly untangle. I can’t wait to see what’s underneath, but at the moment the thickness of the green is a sight to see and if I tried to step on it right this moment I would most definitely fall and bust my ass. Here's to breathing and patience. 

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Malibu couldn't be more of a dream come true. Thank you for all you've given me so far: inspiration, love, hope, spark, motivation, and stillness. Thank you for everything that is yet to come. My heart belongs to you. #malibu #california #malibumorni
As soon as I land here, my body drinks up the moisture and my skin and heart are revived. My body knows it was born and bred here. Traveling the world has made me so grateful for my home. Shout out to my Dad's '90s truck that still runs like new and
En route to Denver ⛰ #southernbelle #nomad #roadtrip
Nothing like day drinking in a tiny town. Helllllo, Durango 🦌
Dandelion wishes 💫

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Indecisiveness is a Bitch

Paris
in

Today I had an epiphany in a grocery store. Am I a Southern woman or am I a Southern woman?

To tell this story, I’ll have to back up a bit. These last few week have been a tumultuous roller coaster for me.

After a month of backpacking, I returned to my apartment in Paris for only 3 days before departing for Northern California to celebrate the wedding of my closest person and her soulmate. I spent a week in Northern California and now I’m currently sitting at a wonderful little haunt in Montmartre.

I won’t bore you with the details of my recent past, but I will say it has been one hell of a ride. My insides were all over the place. And at the end of this vague time period, I was one month out from starting this blog and am now 0 days shy of writing a business plan for my own startup. (‘Bout time, turns out I’m a beast at helping other people’s dreams come true, might as well start working on my own.)

Short-hand recent past inner-monologue: Do I want to continue writing on a blog that’s titled in a way that pigeon-holes me? What if I settle in one place for longer? Does that mean I'm no longer traveling "'round the world?" Shouldn’t I just write under my own name if my goal is to present my authentic self? Should I move back to California? I feel at home there. So many of my loves are there. But I need to be in San Francisco. That’s where all the start-ups are. Paris is too settled in its ways. No one is innovating there. People just walk around and drink coffee and wine. They aren’t hustlers. I need hustlers. San Francisco has hustlers. But I couldn’t be there full time. It would be too much. So maybe LA? But I don’t want to be there full time. Same problem. Too many loafers and schmoozers. Now that I’m back in Paris, I don’t care why these people are slow. They have all the croissants and all the champagne. I’m never leaving this place.

Needless to say, I get caught in my indecisiveness a lot. It bogs me down like a pig in 10 feet of mud. Good god it’s exhausting.

Then last night, post-nearly 18 hours of international travel, a dear friend of mine sent me a text telling me to check my e-mail. I love surprises.

He had sent me an article titled “What happens when you take full responsibility of your life.” Click the link to give it a read.

I have struggled with indecisiveness my entire life. Despite lots of self work, I still struggle with it and I might as well accept that I always will. But constant work on my self has sometimes allowed me to dig deeper and figure out what’s really going on.

Prior to reading this article, I once told someone that my indecisiveness presents itself in its most monstrous form AFTER I’ve made a decision. I will choose what I want for myself, but what follows is a period of second-guessing and self-doubt and fear of failure and fear of making a mistake. My authentic self chooses something and then my “dark side” (what I like to call it) says OH NO I DON’T THINK SO.

Per the article, I realized that what really lurks in my brain is a fear of commitment for a multitude of reasons. That dark side is a tricky mother fucker.

That paragraph up there? The one with all the concerns and worries and shoulds and should nots? Yeah. Fuck that. Fuck all that noise. The logistics don’t matter. This is what my authentic self has chosen as of this moment and I want to publicly make a commitment to myself right here. I commit to:

Writing

Building a supportive community for women

Traveling

Staying healthy / self-care

Connection

Creating a home wherever I am

See: grocery store epiphany. These commitments to myself don’t exist in a place or in other people or in a blog title. They exist in me. All the worries I listed above were, in a sense, asking for outside sources to love me back. I wanted Paris to embrace me and shift to my needs. I wanted different parts of California to embrace me and shift to my needs. I wanted my blog or my business venture to give me validation for the kind of life I want to live. In letting the indecisiveness and self-doubt take over, I looked everywhere outside my self for ANY KIND OF ANSWER. Because let’s face it, that dark side bitch wants to ruin my life.

But just like a relationship with any person, trying to force it to change to your own will taints it. You are no longer truly giving love to the authentic Paris or Los Angeles or San Francisco if you ask it to change for you. And trying to change myself to fit into a place or blog title taints my own authentic self. No matter where I am I'll always miss somewhere else. And if I were just writing under “Tanna Key” it wouldn’t give the site space to grow. I want other Southern voices up in here.

I vow to commit to the things I’ve listed above. And the list will grow longer. And I will change my mind all the time when it comes to logistics, but the core truths of my soul will remain constant. And through true consistency I will nurture my authentic self and foster my own validation of my own self worth that has existed within me all along.

Cheers, y’all. I need to finish my champagne. 

 

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Malibu couldn't be more of a dream come true. Thank you for all you've given me so far: inspiration, love, hope, spark, motivation, and stillness. Thank you for everything that is yet to come. My heart belongs to you. #malibu #california #malibumorni
As soon as I land here, my body drinks up the moisture and my skin and heart are revived. My body knows it was born and bred here. Traveling the world has made me so grateful for my home. Shout out to my Dad's '90s truck that still runs like new and
En route to Denver ⛰ #southernbelle #nomad #roadtrip
Nothing like day drinking in a tiny town. Helllllo, Durango 🦌
Dandelion wishes 💫

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Fluxury: The Art of Traveling (and Living) the Way You Damn Well Please

Budapest
in

Fluxury = Fluctuating Luxury.

I am a Francophile. I think they do #fluxury pretty damn well. Photo credit: Easton Schirra. 

I am a Francophile. I think they do #fluxury pretty damn well. Photo credit: Easton Schirra. 

In short, I define fluxury as sometimes living in the skating-by range and sometimes living like Beyoncé.

The concept is very simple, but I’ve realized the actual action of living this way is much more difficult because in its truest form it’s about figuring out what you like and choosing (here’s the hard part) to put your money towards the things you choose.

When you find yourself under the influence of friends, old people, an ad on the back of a milk carton, or a highly curated Instagram account, you may find yourself placing value on things you don't really love. Lots of entities vie for our attention, trying to talk us into putting our hard earned money toward hand-welded water bottles with rich mahogany finished caps.

If I had all the money back I have spent on things I didn’t care about, I would definitely be rich enough to travel for a year without working. Easily. Money for drinks at bars I didn’t want to go to. Money for gyms I talked myself into going to even though I strongly dislike gyms. Money on food and wine that were at best mediocre. 

At the moment I have the luxury of traveling alone meaning I run into less instances where I feel like my true nature is compromised when it comes to how I choose to live. Every now and then, however, outside influence creeps up on me.

For example, I’ve had more than a few people say to me “OMG YOU HAVE TO STAY IN A HOSTEL YOU’RE MISSING OUT ON SO MUCH!”

For a second I feel some FOMO. I feel like maybe I’m not experiencing everything I should be experiencing as a nomadic twentysomething. But this is absolute bull malarkey. Hostels? Nope. No thank you.

I don’t stay in hostels because I don’t want to stay in hostels. I like the quiet of my Airbnbs where I can work and relax and have a place to recharge after being out all day meeting people. I like that my hosts are locals who can give me city tips. I like that I can generally find Airbnbs cheaper than hostels in almost every city.   

There are a number of things that 99% of the time I don’t pay for while traveling despite the fact that they are widely accepted and advertised traveling purchases. Multiple drinks a night multiple nights a week. Run-of-the-mill guided audio tours. Group tours. Tours. Cover charges of any kind besides museum entrance fees. Transit unless walking is completely out of the question. Flight upgrades. Tourist food; I will go hungry before eating tourist food. 

When I do encounter luxury it’s the luxury I choose for myself. A luxury I can afford because I no longer spend money on things I don’t choose with my heart. It’s my own definition of luxury.

For me, this typically involves really, really good food and the occasional stay at a nicer Airbnb depending on the season and location. But mostly my luxury equates to nice-ass restaurants with heaven-is-inside-my-mouth food and holy-shit-dead-grapes-can-taste-like-diamonds wine. There are few things I love more than a well-crafted meal, not to mention the cultural and historical knowledge that accompanies tasting the best native food wherever I am.

So I say to you: travel how you want to travel. And by extension, live how you want to live. Stop spending money in places where your heart isn’t and never let anyone tell you you're "not doing it right." What’s the point of having pieces of paper that get you things if those things don’t reflect your truest choices?

#fluxury

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Backdrops 🙌🏼
Malibu couldn't be more of a dream come true. Thank you for all you've given me so far: inspiration, love, hope, spark, motivation, and stillness. Thank you for everything that is yet to come. My heart belongs to you. #malibu #california #malibumorni
As soon as I land here, my body drinks up the moisture and my skin and heart are revived. My body knows it was born and bred here. Traveling the world has made me so grateful for my home. Shout out to my Dad's '90s truck that still runs like new and
En route to Denver ⛰ #southernbelle #nomad #roadtrip
Nothing like day drinking in a tiny town. Helllllo, Durango 🦌
Dandelion wishes 💫

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“You Don’t Look Like You’re Backpacking” and Other Sexist Shit I Hear While Backpacking

in

“You don’t look like you’re backpacking.”

For Tower Bridge's 7th edition of Art at the Bridge, 15 women were selected to display their art in honor of International Women's Day. Click the picture for a link to a few outtakes. 

For Tower Bridge's 7th edition of Art at the Bridge, 15 women were selected to display their art in honor of International Women's Day. Click the picture for a link to a few outtakes. 

I have gotten this most often, typically when wearing a dress. Fine, I get it, I’m not literally living out of a backpack with a tent and sleeping in the forest every night. I am, however, living out of a backpack for months on end.

I am lucky enough that the smallest piece of socially acceptable clothing I can wear on the street is a dress. Women are winning at something, eh? 

Naturally, I pack mostly dresses in the summer because they keep my bag light, my body cool, and they’re a breeze to wash.

The fact that I’ve now taken 3 minutes out of my day to explain how and why I backpack wearing dresses is beyond me.

 

“You’re traveling alone?” 

Sometimes this is said out of worry, but I don’t hear many solo male travelers tell me almost everyone they know has expressed concern for them being by their lonesome.

This comment carries doubt in my ability to take care of myself. With my safety level as a lone female traveler shifting depending on my location, I do understand and appreciate it in certain contexts. But like, a woman can chill totally fine on her own in London for god’s sake.  

 

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

This question and its inherent sexism has been thoroughly recorded in recent media thought catalogs, yay! To those who genuinely ask this question because you are interested in someone and you GOTTA KNOW RIGHT NOW if you can ride off into the sunset to “Thinking Out Loud,” I get it. But even still, you could both have this feeling and be otherwise committed. HUMAN BEINGS DO NOT OWN OTHER HUMAN BEINGS.  

As a backpacker, I notice the underlying sentiment of “another man owning a woman means she’s off limits” takes on even deeper meanings.

They ask, where’s your boyfriend? As if he must be around here somewhere because a woman cannot travel without a man.

They ask, do you have a boyfriend at home? As if the person who “owns” me is so far away that I might go outside my relationship sentence either to lend a hand in playing out their affair fantasy or let them lend me a hand in my assumed lonely sex life because I have no body property owner near by. 

 

“Oh yeah? I think you’re just trying to get a dick trophy in every country.”

Yes, my only purpose in life as a woman is to proudly and intentionally collect as many penises as I can with my vagina that inherently belongs to the men attached to those penises (and then turn around and be shamed for the number of ones I've had). This one takes the cake and the icing all in one giant bite.

I have done many forgiveness exercises for this man. When I recall this moment now, it evokes deep sadness and compassion for those whose superiority has cut off their true connection with the world. In one sentence, he effectively invalidated my love of travel, my love of culture, my gratitude for my body, my ownership of my body, the bodies of those I've been trusted to touch, and my voice, and he said it as if he were hungover making Sunday brunch plans.

 

Afterthoughts for the Unconsciously Misinformed (NOT the Dangerous)

I conclude by saying this: I am a bad feminist. I’ve gladly accepted men (and women!) buying me drinks and dinners and inviting me on boats and into homes. I’ve chosen to look at these offerings as humanistic rather than sexist, and I honestly don’t know which ones were which. I don’t want to take life too seriously and see no reason to berate a man or woman about whether they’re trying to flirt with me or simply be kind to me; this solves nothing.

In all the instances above except the final, I have continued talking to whomever made these comments. Like I said, I am a bad feminist, but I also have intentions in continuing these conversations.

I grew up in the Southern United States, which, despite best efforts by some, still has heavy, stubborn dregs of racism. Some of the side effects of this upbringing include genuinely unconscious racism. For example, looking at a painting of a hazy cotton field in rural Georgia passed down from my ancestors, I thought it was beautiful. It took someone with enough openness and kindness to explain to me that it was a boastful painting of a slaver owners’ possessions working in the fields.

What will make this world a better place? Connection. Choosing to set aside assumptions about someone's authentic nature based on simple comments, however hurtful. Instead of condemning and fighting and creating opposites of genders and/or sexualities, I try to be patient and kind. I try to connect.

A brilliant night in Brussels, Belgium.

A brilliant night in Brussels, Belgium.

I do not fight fire with fire. If I feel I am fully physically, mentally, and emotionally safe (crucial), I fight it with a giant ass fire hose. And when I do, something magical happens. We connect. We both cool down, I from my anger and the other from their pre-dispositions. My actions, ever so slightly, change the way they view me, and I secretly hope this revolutionary idea of equality begins to carve out new neural pathways.

This in no way applies to the dangerous and/or predatorial. In this case, I fight fire with silently running as far and fast away as I can. Full mental, physical, and emotional safety for myself always comes first. They are welcome to burn in the house they set on fire if they so choose. 

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Backdrops 🙌🏼
Malibu couldn't be more of a dream come true. Thank you for all you've given me so far: inspiration, love, hope, spark, motivation, and stillness. Thank you for everything that is yet to come. My heart belongs to you. #malibu #california #malibumorni
As soon as I land here, my body drinks up the moisture and my skin and heart are revived. My body knows it was born and bred here. Traveling the world has made me so grateful for my home. Shout out to my Dad's '90s truck that still runs like new and
En route to Denver ⛰ #southernbelle #nomad #roadtrip
Nothing like day drinking in a tiny town. Helllllo, Durango 🦌
Dandelion wishes 💫

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