Sarajevo finds its way into the future

Baščaršija’s precious heritage has been restored on a huge and dazzling scale – the remnants of the Talishan Inn are preserved as an open-air archaeological museum. The site is presided over by the dazzling modern lines of a newer hotel – the Europe. Its startling extension is a fascinating counterpoint to the ancient buildings.

Outside the beautiful Academy of Fine Arts, a modern bridge formed like a loop-the-loop roller coaster crosses the babbling river Miljacka. The river flows down from the city’s encircling bucolic jade-coloured mountains as a trickle in summer and a torrent in winter.

The Latin Bridge crosses the river a little upstream, a stone fairy tale-like structure that, when I was visiting, was covered in scaffolding and receiving some much-needed TLC. A plaque by that bridge marks the spot where Austrian Arch Duke Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sofia were shot dead in 1914, sparking the First World War.

Places in the city centre where civilians were massacred are marked by grim stretches of red pavement and stone memorials on walls. Fresh flowers are meticulously maintained and flames burn bright in small metal torches to keep the memories of the innocent victims alive.

Museums like the brand new low-lit Gallery 11/07/95, which opened last year, remember victims of the genocide outside the city – in this case the horror that took place in Srebrenica. Yet, despite the trauma of recent times, despite the ache that must persist within everyone who calls Sarajevo home, the city today is nothing less than a joy. Its streets ring with life, with hope.

Round the corner from Markale – where two such massacres occurred – outside the Orthodox Church, old men play giant chess. Every table at every pavement café is taken by locals and tourists drinking coffee. I haggle a trader down from the equivalent of Dh50 to Dh35 for some fake sunglasses. I buy a slice of meat burek from Fino, one of the best bakers of the filled savoury pastries, and munch it in the sun while I watch the hordes stream out of the Ali Pasa Mosque. Friday prayers have just ended and men throng the streets, some yet to put their shoes back on. The mosque’s water gardens are lush, emerald green, carefully manicured.

The city centre’s shopping streets buzz. International brands are everywhere. The BBI Centre is an award-winning, upmarket new mall, brown with big windows and full of Western stuff for sale in this most cosmopolitan of cities. Lush, Timberland, Lego and Apple have shops in the mall.

You can take a clanking tram from here to the train station, passing the massive American embassy where signs loudly proclaim, “NO PHOTOGRAPHY”.

Outside the station the Avaz twisted skyscraper, the HQ of a publishing company, rises as a symbol of the new Sarajevo. In a skate park down below, a huge work of playful public art dominates – two giant trumpets trying to talk to each other. I find a hole in the fence and gingerly cross the railway tracks, through Sarajevo’s haunted hinterlands, past the Hotel Grand, where I’m holed up. A stray puppy makes pleading eyes at me then loses its courage and darts into a hedge. A road leads up to The TV Tower at the top of the hill and this vantage point affords heart-stopping views of the whole city and is the perfect place for a picnic of sweet Bosnian cakes and fruit juice.

This capital city is getting to me; it’s getting under my skin; it’s already in my blood. This city has entranced me from afar for years.

Back down below, at the end of the day, Sarajevans laugh and drink in the chic cafés and jumping bars of Ulica Strossmayerova. People are having fun, and it’s infectious.

Across the street a group of 20-somethings is fooling around. They’ve been paid to advertise something – half of them are dressed as oranges and half as mobile phones. Their faces are painted with smiles. They are the future of Sarajevo.

They joke and laugh and all look like the best of friends. Their optimism is infectious.