Stolac // In the Aisle, Yelling
© John Bills
It is a beautiful setting. A small station, faded yellow in hue, backed by verdant green and the stark beige of a faded fortress peeking out of the trees here and there. The colours aren’t quite juxtaposing, but they are stark enough to stand out, making the full view of the bus station in Stolac another delightful image in Bosnia and Herzegovina.
It gets better on the other side of the building. The Bregava river is another string to the healthy bow of rivers here. It is a sinking river, essentially a river that loses water here and there, but there’s no shortage of the stuff behind the Stolac bus station. In many ways, the Bregava is Stolac, the river that the town developed around, a river that gives life to the people of the town, and provides gawping visitors (like this one) many bridges and waterfalls to look at it with doe-eyes and giggles.
The stretch of the Bregava that hides behind the bus station almost goes unnoticed. Of course, it is shameful to even countenance the idea that a river can go unnoticed, but it almost works here. The ripples of the water are here, but the river is hemmed in behind the station, and only the curious visitor will venture towards the rusting bars to take it in while waiting for the bus.
© John Bills
All in all, it would be easy to surmise that Stolac bus station is the most beautiful in all of Bosnia and Herzegovina. Setting counts for a lot. In terms of setting, this takes some beating.
Unfortunately, the bus station in Stolac no longer exists in any sort of functional form. The shell of the building stands, but it has long stopped dishing out information, times and tickets. The former rooms of the station now house garbage instead of impatient travellers, the walls covered in graffiti that runs the gauntlet of wall ‘art’ in Bosnia and Herzegovina, from declarations of love (to human and football club) to nationalist nods to fascist groups of the past. The juvenile, too, as a brazen “pušite penis” (smoke dick, basically) reminds you.
Stolac bus station looks like it has been on fire. Many of the walls are covered in the choking effects of post-smoke. I don’t know if there had ever been a fire here, and the black could be from someone trying to set the garbage on fire. I have no idea, my knowledge of fire and the day-to-day history of Stolac bus station being as limited as it is.
© John Bills
Which is where the problem takes on its real nature. I stood outside the remains of the station, waiting for a bus that never came, perturbed by the obliterated state of the place. I passed judgement despite having no idea what had happened here, having no idea how long it had been in this state, and no idea about anything that would allow me to formulate the opinion I had accepted so easily. Heck, it could have been art, for all I knew.
A bus to Mostar sidled up, so I decided to get on that and head back to base instead of hoping for a more direct route to Jablanica. I could hear some yelping from the other side of the station, yelping which came from a litter of puppies, who were either play-fighting to pass the time or actually fighting over food.
