Dark Tourism | Sarajevo, A Case Study

*I’ve been a bad blogger recently because I haven’t posted for a while. I blame studies! Anyway i’d much appreciate you check out this post because a fair amount of research when into it and i think it touches an interesting topic.

There has been debate between the media and travellers over the emergence of ‘dark tourism’, which is a tourist destination that is some way connected to death or disaster. This could range from Auschwitz to the Parisian catacombs to the 9/11 Memorial site. Generally, the destination is connected to a “dark chapter in history”. The debate stems from the ethics of visiting these places and the obsession with the macabre. In this article I will use Sarajevo, Bosnia & Herzegovina, a destination I visited a couple of months ago as a case study. It is here I discovered the phenomenon of ‘dark tourism’ and came to question my own stance on the subject.

Sarajevo has been considered a dark tourist destination since 1914 after the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand. However, it is Bosnia & Herzegovina’s recent history; the war following the countries succession from Yugoslavia in the 1990’s that counts for most of Sarajevo’s tourism today. This is noticeable walking around the city as it is not long before you are confronted with a building still full of bullet holes or the ruins of a house. I didn’t visit any of the memorial museums because that is not to my taste. However, I still felt that the effects of the war were very fresh and visible in everyday life for the people of Sarajevo. After a couple of days in the city I began to realise that almost every place of interest was connected to the war. Sarajevo hosted the Winter Olympics in 1984 and so I made the journey to the abandoned bobsleigh course because I wanted to see something out of the city. It was an eerie experience, this was partly due to the weather and partly due to me being the only person there. Saying this, there was still an atmosphere of paranoia, that made me constantly turn my head around because I thought someone was walking behind me. I researched the site once I was back in my hotel and discovered that the track was used as artillery defence during the war. This hit home the reality of what happened historically there. It was once a celebration of sporting achievement and the coming together of nations through friendly competition. Now it has much darker associations.

I had to do some research into dark tourism. My initial view was that it was for tourists who found pleasure in seeing the destruction and misery that had happened to other places and people. However, I have come to realise that this is not the case at all. We are essentially all dark tourists; the umbrella term covers sites of huge historical significance such as the Berlin Wall, all the way down the spectrum to a War Museum. All these sites have in common is that they relate to death, destruction or dark history – either natural or man-made. The term can be adjusted to include just about anything. Dark tourism has received a bad reputation in the media. It is this idea of voyeurism that is the main reason. Tourists visiting these sites are seen as glamorising the disaster and getting pleasure out of the trauma of those effected. It could be compared to the ‘snuff video’ movement that you sometimes see on social media. While I am on the subject – social media also contributes to dark tourism’s bad reputation. Most recently there was controversy over people posting selfies at Holocaust memorial sites. It was this particular incident that made me aware of my own position on dark tourism. While I was in the city I came across a ‘Sarajevo Rose’, which is the remnants of a mortar explosion that has been filled with red resin, making it look floral in its appearance. A tourist brochure also told me it was “the most instagrammed picture of Sarajevo” – I was also guilty of this! Is there a moral stance of posting pictures from these sites on social media? Is it right that a mortar explosion is Sarajevo’s most popular photo, instead of its beautiful old town?


After researching dark tourism and visiting a dark tourism site I have come to my own conclusions on the subject. I think that generally dark tourism is misunderstood. It is viewed as being consumed by a small portion of travellers, when in reality we are all involved in some way. I think it can be very educational. The Yugoslav wars happened during the first years of my life so I had next to no knowledge of that part of history. However, after visiting Bosnia I have become a lot more clued up on what happened; including the extraordinary stories of the people of Sarajevo and how they coped with the war. Dark tourism also shows that we can’t forget that these events happened, although that would be easier, it isn’t the right thing to do. Only by learning from the past can we stop these events happening again in the future.


Most of my research came from; http://www.dark-tourism.com/ so if you are interested in the subject then feel free to learn more!



Think You’ve Seen Hipster? This Is Hipster | ‘Zlatna Ribica’, Sarajevo.

Sarajevo had already won me over with its hospitality, beauty and cosmopolitanism. I didn’t think it had any surprises left for me to discover. This is until I stumbled across Zlatna Ribica. A cosy coffee house/bar situated a couple of streets away from central Sarajevo. Its eccentricity and utter charm will make you want to spend the whole day there – continuously sipping coffees, beers or wines to your heart’s content while the world continues outside.


Stepping through the doors I felt as if I had stepped back in time at least 50 years to some quaint Parisian café. The decorum screams vintage, with posters and trinkets dating back to sometime before this one. The place really gives me a feel for antique Bosnia. It is quiet. Only a few patrons sip from their cups in the corner so it is easy for me to find a seat. I occupy the one next to the goldfish, happily swimming in its bowl. The waitress does not need to hand me a menu because they hang above my head, on telephone chords. My menu takes the form of a children’s book about animals. You see milk isn’t thirsty kitty’s favourite drink, it is actually lemonade for 4KM. Different menus were written on playing cards and tarot decks and other quirky miscellany.


At this point I didn’t even care of the coffee was bad (it was not by the way). It was just nice to escape into this little world for an hour. I wish I could take the place back home with me. It is this charm of Bosnia that I want to remember from my travels. Despite the countries struggles it still has a beautiful integrity and culture that I think should be shared with more people.



You Are Lost, But You Know Who To Ask For Directions.

(A fictional travel piece based off a non-fiction place. A real place you would say. A place that actually exists. Sarajevo’s Contemporary Art Gallery.)


“If you are looking for Hell, then ask the artist where it is. If you can’t find the artist, then you are already in Hell”
– Avigdor Pawnser

It is your last day in the country. You have visited every museum, café and restaurant. You are now stumbling around the old city looking to find something to do. To kill those final few minutes.

You cross the square, mothers shout at crying children while the father looks onwards at nothing in particular. Students are comparing notebooks. Ideas and drafts that will probably not equate to anything. An old woman sits by the fountain scratching the few whiskers on her chin. She sits alone. You are also alone. A light rain starts to pour from the sky and you take refuge in a nearby building. It is not an inviting building by any means. Plaster peels off the walls and one of the windows has been bordered up. The sign tells you that it is an Art Exhibit. You pay the small commission to allow your admittance.

The walls are decorated with cardboard, not tiles. The number of art pieces is lacking compared to the other exhibits you walked around with your lover in olden, happier days. You walk past the murals of Yugoslavic sieges and Eastern European famine. Guns, then hungry children, then mortar explosions, then prisoner of war poetry, consecutively. Sculptured skulls lay scattered across the floor. A man hangs from the ceiling by this throat, clutching a baby doll. Edgy. Artistic. You think to yourself. The gallery attendants leave for coffee so you saunter upstairs to the rest of the exhibit. There are hundreds of empty seats. You are not knowledgeable when it comes to the Contemporary art scene so you are unsure whether you can sit or not. You are so very tired. You sit on one of the seats since the gallery attendants have gone for coffee. It is quiet now and you are the only one here. In the corner a television only plays static. You swear that for a moment, brief, that a face appeared on that screen. You watch for a few minutes until your eyes hurt, desperately trying to catch another glimpse. Static. That’s all. Your mind must have been playing tricks on you.

You go to the gift shop. A book catches your eye and you flick through the pages. It is a book. It is a book about you. Your birth. A nurse is about to spank you while a doctor holds your mother. There is a photo of you crying on your first day of school. The other children were mean to you. There is a photo of you on the plane here, two empty seats either side of you. You are reading that novel. You should make more time for reading. The last page shows an empty hospital bed. There are no flowers or ‘get well soon’ cards. The sheets look stained and dirty. You put the book down and step back into the square. The one with the fountain. The old woman is still there. You are unsure how long you were looking at the art. You are still so tired. You would like to fall asleep and awake when everything is ok again. It is not long until your plane leaves. You should get to the airport early and check in your luggage. You brought no luggage. You walk up to the fountain and stare at the cool, inviting water. You want to drink the water but the old woman shakes her head. You did not find yourself here. So you must go to the next place. Maybe there. Maybe

“Where is the good life for all of us? You ask yourself”
“Child”. Says the woman
“Such a thing does not exist”.



Bitesized Malta Poems

A small collection of short bitesized poems from Malta. Quickly scribbled in my notebook while I mooched around in the sun. While I nonchalantly watched people going about their business as the day slowly slunk along.


The Garden.

come to my garden, where
the sea glistens above,
the sky clear below
mixing a pallet of blue before my eyes
let us dance in my garden
to the song of red and purple flowers
while the tourists look onwards.

Table For One.

look at that man in the corner
alone. that’s fucking weird
one pair of cutlery
one beer glass
one plate
they must be the loneliest person in the world….

you choke
because you realise you feel the same
as she holds your hand
next to candlelight.

Woman Doing Beach Exercises.

move as the wave moves
lunge forward, jump backward
sweating through gym gear
rest in a rock pool
you are one with the ocean now child.

Crowded Bus.

clinging to the
pools collect
under your armpits
drowning me
in odour


no dogs on the beach
that child stepped in shit
no dogs on the beach


Jag älskar dig (I Love You) Stockholm…

…and you will get through this.

You will get through this because you are a city of creativity, of effervescence and love. A city of acceptance. You are a diverse community that includes people from all walks of life. It’s this mix of individuals who come together in this beautiful city that makes you feel a part of something special. I never felt out of place as I walked beside the water or through the streets. I never felt isolated while drinking in a pub or having a fika with friends. I felt more and more a part of Stockholm every day I lived there. This was through the experiences I had and the memories of those experiences that I still carry around. It was through the relationships I made with the city and the friends I love – both Swedish and other Internationals alike.

This is why my heart hurts so much reading about the events that happened yesterday. That someone wanted to try and taint and break up this community that I have a special place for and this city that I care about. My heart hurts for the victims and their families. It hits so close to home because in another time or another place, it could have been someone that I really cared about, or even me. That could have been injured or worse. Of course, we can’t live our lives thinking about events in that way. Who knows why things happen the way they do… but maybe we can help stop tragedies like this again by our reactions.

So, we will grieve like we did in London and Nice and Berlin and countless other places across the world. We will grieve when it happens again, but I have noticed that we are learning to respond to these attacks differently. With resilience and solidarity, instead of judgement. We will not let attacks like these define our cities or a group of people. Instead we need to stand against hate. Attacks like these push people together, rather than forcing them apart. Stockholm, you are a city of love, peace, acceptance and creativity. That is what defines you. Stockholm, you will get through this and continue to be the thriving city and community where I left my heart. While I am not with you I think of you always and treasure the memories you gave me



The Solo Traveller | A Weekend In Malta


A couple of weeks ago I explored the island-country of Malta! Although I was greeted with great weather, monuments and a plethora of culture and history. It made me come to terms with the psyche of being a solo traveller.

This was the first time that I had been away alone. Stockholm doesn’t count because I don’t think that was the same. I was living with other people in the same situation as me so you never felt lonely for long. This trip was different though… I made it to Malta on Friday. It was a long day of travel; early morning, flight delayed, public transport not turning up and other nuisances like that. However, I let it all wash over me because I had crossed another country off my list. Bonus – it was also warm. I forgot what that feels like! As I said this is my first time travelling solo despite being a well-travelled person. I’ve always had a companion with me but this time I didn’t and it was tough. When I walked along the seafront I could appreciate its beauty but I had no one to share it with. When I walked past a pastry shop, the treats inside looked delicious but I had no one to tell.

I would be lying if I said it didn’t get me down. Then I ask myself questions like “well why did you even go in the first place?” Honestly I didn’t think it would affect me as much as it did. On the morning of my flight I just wanted to go back home. I was anxious and upset about travelling for the first time in ages. On my first night I decided to try and explore as much as I could and I found an Argentinian restaurant close to my hostel. I did hover around for a good ten minutes before going inside, scared of saying the dreaded words “table for one please!” eventually I did it and the meal was amazing. Would I have wanted to share that experience with someone? Yes and no. Yes because company is nice and no because I realised its ok to spend time alone. People thought I was absolutely nuts for going to Malta by myself. Many can’t do something like that. I’ve always been independent and more at ease with situations like that. I just love to travel, of course, in a sense it is an escapism. But I suppose we’re all escaping from something each in our own way.

This is just a little intro into the solo traveller. I would like to explore this further as I go on more trips this year. It will be interesting to compare future experiences to this one.


The Eye vs The Hand | Fotografiska Poems, Stockholm

Returning to Stockholm this weekend allowed me to visit some of the places I didn’t have chance to when I lived there last year. High on my list was ‘Fotografiska’ a museum dedicated to photography. I was lucky enough to see Ren Hang’s “Human Love” exhibit as well as Cooper & Gorfer’s collection “I Know Not These My Hands”. Walking around exhibits I find it odd if I don’t have my notebook with me. I’m ready to jot down some inspiration that comes from looking at the work before me. Here are a series of poems from Fotografiska’s exhibits


Dior Haute Couture,

with an orange tint
free me from the box
of couture culture
or smash the glass
and join me,
being blind is easier.


2014 Blue
will break if handled carelessly
so display me in glass
for the eyes
so many eyes
but don’t touch
but don’t expect answers


one side dark
red streams into deep indigo
they’re scared to let me out
facing the light
fantastical, carnival yellow
judge me if you will
but you were once me


I Know Not These My Hands, Cooper & Gorfer

Empty Portrait of Cecilia Roppalini
find me
by looking for my shoes
as my body
in an ether
you will never find
the song of the forest
my only constant
o, find me
listen for footsteps
and weeping
beyond the trees
of twilight


everything is falling apart fine
they will come for me soon
I will be taken treated
black bag over head safely
like my father
I don’t have time
I hear the sirens children singing


Human Love, Ren Hang

Human Love
you laugh at my nipples
the hair on my vagina
and two bums exposed
the body is the window to nature
look outside
leave your skin in the forests
and urban

lips are just petals
lilies the eyes
you are one with the forest
and you have no choice

don’t fall from the tree
the branches will cut the skin
they will cut you
expression has consequences

I go back to the water
and warm
the currents take me under
I am born again

concrete metropolis
herding sheep
sit on the rooftops
nipples hardening with the breeze
while sunset bathes you

you thought it was mountains
they’re bums
of different colours
you were partially correct
it’s a landscape of nature
as we are nature; exposed