Getting from Greece to Bosnia- The Journey of Destiny Part IV:
So off belched the bus to Serbia, into the heart of the Balkans among the clandestine leaders of the Yugoslavian genocide. We slept poorly bouncing along. Morning arrived just as we pulled into what seemed to me soviet central. We explored the streets knowing from our intuitions that we Americans were not welcome. Our breath came alive on the frozen morning air. The fish market froze the night before with its chests of fish suspended in a block of ice. After a few short hours of pinched stomachs, we found bread and sip of milk. Our bus would leave soon for Sarajevo, to travel along the roads of war. I looked at our map and expected a three to four hour ride. I had no idea we were heading into the heart of the mountains.
The bus twisted and turned around the switch backed ravines in the land between Bosnia and Serbia. Time passed slowly on the frozen bus until the snow let down. And it fell like a blanket of thick cream. Our driver slowed some but pressed by the snowy cliffs. The trees, in a just an hour were weighed down heavy, bearing eight, ten inches. We stopped for midday lunch and carried swiftly on. I knew not when we passed the borders. They didn’t matter at this point. All I knew was that we seemed lost in a land of wonder which held within it palpable danger.