As we turned in from the Adriatic and started driving through a valley towards the Bosnian border, we passed dozens of small farms and small villages. Then we had to stop for a few minutes at the Bosnian border. Immigration control into Bosnia was a relaxed affair. There was a halfhearted glance at passports; we didn't even get out of our seats, nor did they bother to stamp anything, and then we were on our way.
The difference between Croatia and Bosnia was quite noticeable. Apart from the foliage, Croatia didnt look all that different from France; it was nice. The houses are in good condition. But Bosnia was noticably poor, with every hosue in dire need of a fresh coat of paint, and people living in bombed-out, falling down buildings. It was sad.
The first place that we stopped was the town of Politelj, a pretty town on a hillside over a river, which had been the scene of ethnic cleansing in the 1993 war. It was fairly depressing to be there. We stepped off of the bus and there were crowds of women begging and trying to sell trinkets, books, and fruit.
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