One more step and suddenly the fog lifted. As I reached the end of the bridge I saw people, many people, welcoming me to the other side. A breath-taking landscape appeared before my eyes; turquoise waters made they way through the depth of valleys, separating two rock giants covered in a million thick leaves ranging from a light tone of grass to a deep forest green. Interlacing spots of stone showed the massive material they were made of and different layers of shades of grey gave a glimpse of their process of creation. From the west came a light breeze caressing your skin in soft strokes, bringing a little coolness on that hot summer’s day.
And there I stood. In the middle of a choir of thousand voices, names I couldn’t yet remember but that would soon sound familiar to me, introducing, talking, sitting in front of our house, Musala. Then a little group of people decided to go to „old bank“. „Welcome to Mostar“ she said when we reached the top. And indeed, it was Mostar, in all its beauty and uncovered self that we were looking at. The rooftops of our new home, the streetlights of our new city, the mountains with that big cross and the muslim chants that were flattering our ears from a mosque nearby. Yes, indeed, welcome to Mostar!
The UWC-Chronicles of Mostar 