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Chapter 3: The Riders of the Zodiac.

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We soon passed Klek and kept on going towards the small and modest border of Croatia with Bosnia, small because it's really small, it enters Bosnia by the coast there and cros- ses back into Croatia just a few kilometers later, it sounds odd, but surely they must have made some sort of political agreement so Bosnia wouldn't be landlocked. However, according to what I read, Neum, the city we had just entered, isn't very important as a commercial seaport, and it was easy to see that while cycling through there, among other reasons because the roads that connect Neum with the rest of Bosnia and Herzegovina do notsupport heavy vehicle traffic, that wasn't hard to realize either as we pedaled through there. Neum was pretty much just a road that cuts through the city headed for Dubrovnik, and which has some houses and restaurants all the way down the hill.

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Sarajevo seemed to be stuck in time, and I don’t mean back in centuries past, when Romans and Ottomans ruled the land, I mean more recent times, it seemed that I had returned to 1940s Europes, everything was modest compared to the rest of the continent we had been visiting, the houses, cars, means of transport, people's faces, that bucolic, gray mood in the streets... But little by little, Sarajevo is restructuring itself and taking back its space in time and in European tourism. As we entered and walked through the city, we were even more enchanted with the place, and those low expectations gave way to eyes wide open and attentive to every sign and trace of terror left by the recent Civil War, and the hope that welled up in the eyes of children and people working there for a better future.

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Everything was very cheap in Sarajevo, a pint of local beer was around 1.30 euros - oh fuck me - how can I not keep drinking?! And we went on, between one brewski and another, we also tried a pear distillate that the boy from the bar said was locally made, in terms of taste I didn't feel much, but the alcohol kept hitting until we started to get too jolly... That's where the danger sleeps, the last time that happened was in Zadar and we lost the next day to our binge drinking. Stay alert, my dear Watson. Stay alert!

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And back to Neum to spend one more night before crossing back to Croatia in that weird border. But before our traditional beggar's style dinner...

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