Kiseljak // The Water Before You is Somehow Special
© John Bills
Josip Bać was born in Prijedor in 1902, I think. That’s what research tells me, although you can never be entirely sure. When I eventually make my way onto Wikipedia, I’m sure some dork will insist that I was born in Shrewsbury. I wasn’t. I was born in Welshpool. For the purposes of this article, we’re saying that Josip Bać was born in Prijedor.
It isn’t entirely important. We don’t choose those things, after all. Josip Bać chose to use his incredible abilities to become one of the most influential hydrogeological engineers of his time, and it isn’t outlandish to say that this chap is one of the main reasons Kiseljak holds the reputation it does in the modern age. What reputation is that, I hear you cry? A reputation for magnificent mineral water springs, for health, for rejuvenation. For that magnificent refreshment that is a cold bottle of kisela voda.
© John Bills
At some point, I will stop being surprised at how pretty small towns in Bosnia and Herzegovina are. Is that old quote about repetition and insanity relevant? I don’t know, probably not, but if I had a penny for every time it had happened, I would have many pennies. Not quite enough for a pound, but still. But there I was, surprised at how pretty Kiseljak was. The Lepenica river runs through the town, with a gorgeous park on one side and the bustle of activity on the other. On a hill behind the bus station, the extravagant Church of St Elijah the Prophet went about its business. I knew I wouldn't visit the church, it being on a hill and all that.
Kiseljak was first mentioned way back in 1530, and its honour roll of rulers follows the usual trends. The Ottomans, the Austro-Hungarians, the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes, Yugoslavia (versions 1 and 2), Bosnia and Herzegovina. Kiseljak was always sort of famous for its water. Your travel writing god Evliya Çelebi wrote about the place, but don't get carried away with Derviş Mehmed Zillî. He wrote about everywhere, after all.
It wasn’t until the 19th century that things really kicked off here. Written documents from the middle of the 1860s talk about mineral water and sources, and within 20 years, Austrian experts were descending upon the town to do what I can only assume were high-tech experiments in lab coats. Ernst Ludwig, he of this article fame, said that the waters were special in Europe. Several diseases were treated in Kiseljak, and the water was found to strengthen the stomach and encourage general healing. Protective works began in 1888, and by 1891 Kiseljak water was bottled and shipped off to places like Dalmatia, Štajerska and India. One of those is not like the others.
Fast forward a few decades, and we return to Josip Bać. He wasn’t the first to get all giddy about the water in Kiseljak, but he was the first to make it a viable long-term thing. Does that make him the ‘Living is A Problem Because Everything Dies’ of Kiseljak water? Yes, it does.
Josip’s father died when he was young (true for both of them, I guess), and it was in Sarajevo that he completed the early stages of his education. A child of fine abilities, he went to Vienna for further education but returned home when he ran out of money. Back in Sarajevo, he began to grow his reputation as a water expert, working for various important organisations in a variety of important positions. Before long, he was the head of hydrotechnology in Livno, and things were looking good for the boy. Further education came knocking once more, and Josip graduated in civil engineering in Prague in March 1936. The time to strike was nigh.
© John Bills
Almost overnight, Josip Bać became the number one hydraulic engineer in Yugoslavia. His work was primarily focused in Bosnia and Herzegovina, where he went from town to town in search of springs, almost single-handedly saving towns from economic oblivion by maximising the potential of mineral water. Kiseljak was one such town. Using the town as a focus point, Josip Bać prodigiously published papers on balneohydrology and balneology. I have no idea what either of those things is, but Josip Bać did, and that’s all that matters. The Sarajevski Kiseljak company became a major name around the region, standing alone as an independent legal entity in 1961. 25 years later, Josip Bać died in Sarajevo.
I’m not really saying anything here. I wandered around the park, still childishly impressed by how pretty Kiseljak was, somewhat oblivious to the rain that had begun. I sat in the garden of a cafe, sheltered from the rain by umbrellas bearing Ožjusko advertising. Sufficiently influenced, I ordered an Ožjusko, keenly aware that I obviously should have gone for a kisela voda and that I hadn’t made the most of the brain bestowed upon me. “There’s a space between my ears that I’ve completely wasted, but I am not afraid of this devil.” Yeah, I suppose I was overly confident. Low hanging fruit, and all that. What would Josip Bać have ordered? He wouldn’t have been caught out in the rain.
