‘Can you believe it? There’s a craft beer festival in Bosnia! If we arrive at 23hr tonight, we can get a taxi from the bus station and be at Sarajevo Brewery before they close.’
‘Of course, American boy. Craft beer follows you everywhere.’
‘C’mon. You like it.’
The Russian gave me a wry smile. Already, she was used to my unbridled enthusiasm for anything craft beer related. Being that it was expressed in my broken, Tarzan-Serbian, then passed through her Russian-translated filter, seemed not to matter.
Alcohol improves relations, even if temporarily.
Russian American Relations At A Craft Beer Festival In Sarajevo
We were approaching the Serbian-Bosnian border. After crossing the border, my mobile would become useless, save for any WIFI connection, so I did some final craft beer searching for Sarajevo. Google searches had only yielded a few decent bars. Randomly, the Sarajevo Brewery ‘Good Beer’ Festival had shown up in my Facebook feed less than a half-hour before we reached the border. Criticize the Facebook algorithm for filling your feed with unrelated events, but this time it was on point.
That very night I could try all of Sarajevo’s craft breweries. All three of them.
The Serbian customs police were thrilled with the two of us: Oh, Russia and America together? Putin and Trump! BIG LOVE ZAJEDNO! Enjoy you!
We rolled our eyes, cringed and groaned a ‘Thank you’.
The Bosnian customs scrutinized us perhaps more than necessary: Why were we traveling together? Where in Russia you from? Where in USA you from? What in guitar case?
On both sides of the border, the police took our passports and escorted us off the bus. As they inspected our documents, The Russian ran around the customs office’s premises brandishing her large telescope camera. She snapped pictures left and right. With eyebrows askance, the customs police stared at her. ‘Russia, America, big countries, can do what you want,’ their faces said.
After an hour of snapping more bus pictures in the beautiful Drina River gorge, and two hours sleeping through mountainous Eastern Bosnia, we arrived in Sarajevo. An hour remained before the festival ended. A 15-minute taxi ride got us to Sarajevo Brewery’s elegant, wooden brewpub, nestled next to the historic brick brewery.
Tonight, Bosnia’s oldest industrial brewery was hosting Bosnia’s newest craft microbreweries.
Sarajevo Brewery’s Epic Good Beer Festival
Friday night was at its climax, and the two-story, German-style beerhall hummed with human energy. The smell of cevapi sausage, cigarette smoke and cooking malt filled the air, while well-dressed couples danced to a live band playing pop-rock standards. On the second-story’s open terrace, people leaned precariously over the railings.
With my mind set on beer, I was oblivious to it all. I found the three craft breweries confined to a tight horseshoe of plywood foldout tables in one corner on the first floor. They looked like an afterthought at the night’s festivities.
Gelender was the one brewery I knew. My bias of Sarajevo as a Muslim-majority city was in play, so I didn’t have high expectations for any of its alcoholic forays. But Gelender’s Nonchalant pale ale was surprisingly hoppy and balanced. On the other hand, their Midnight Porter was a little thin, although decent. They were the first, and best, of the night. The brewers even gifted me a few bottles to take back to Serbia.
Seems like we were the only foreigners there, or least the only ones perusing the craft beer. I sampled the other breweries. The Russian enthusiastically took pictures of me and the party.
Castrum Craft Brewery had just two to sample: The ‘Pale Ale’ pale ale (yeah…), and the much more dramatically-name ‘Maksim Gorki Imperial Double IPA’. (Gorki means bitter.) I preferred the pale ale, as the other was hardly imperial, double, nor ‘maximum bitter’. A language barrier prevented us from much conversation, so I went to the final brewery, the creatively-named The Brew Pub.
Balkan Han Hostel Must Wonder Where We Are Now
A language barrier was not an issue with Harun, the smiling, athletic man who watched The Brew Pub’s taps. He was their marketing agent. As expected from a marketing type, he zealously engaged me in conversation about, well, everything.
I was very welcome to Bosnia. I must drink coffee with him. And I must visit The Brew Pub Sarajevo. The only craft brewery making and serving beer on site in Sarajevo. I must drink beer with him. I must play my guitar at The Brew Pub. I must eat cevapi.
‘An American guy and a Russian girl? Together? Nice.’
He promised to meet us for beers (coffee, cevapi, everything!) at The Brew Pub the next night, and asked me to play a few songs there. So now The Russian and I are that cliched artistic couple: a rockstar musician and his foreign photographer girl. It’s only been 45 minutes and Sarajevo seems like a fantasy. Who knows where the night will take us…
Oh, yeah. When were back in Serbia, we booked a bed at Balkan Han Hostel. They must be wondering where we are.
Finally, after one in the morning, we left Sarajevo Brewery and walked across the river to Balkan Han Hostel on Dalmatinska Street. The Russian insisted on several more pictures on the picturesque bridges. Eventually, we made it to the hostel, where our reservation was confirmed by a sleepy, but smiling lady.
‘May I have your passports?’
‘That is so kind. A Russian and an American together. Enjoy Sarajevo.’
For a guide to craft beer in Sarajevo and Mostar click: here
