The Bridge Where World War I Began and Some Burek

Our Tour Director walked with us to the Latin Bridge, the one place that I wanted to see in Sarajevo. This is not an ordinary bridge.

This pale-stone triple-arch bridge was constructed in 1798 to replace a stone bridge that was washed away by the floods in 1791, and an older wooden bridge. It was named after the neighbourhood on the other side of the river where Sarajevo’s Catholic community resided. But the attraction here is not the bridge per se, but the incident that occurred here in 1914.

It is said that the First World War began on this very bridge. It was here where Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie were assassinated. But the assassination itself was not a straight-forward one. It was a tale of missed opportunity, serendipity, and plain luck (or misfortune, depending on whose point of view it is).

Franz Ferdinand was delegated by his uncle, Franz Josef, Emperor of the Austro-Hungarian Empire to visit the capital of Bosnia and Herzegovina, then a province of the empire. He observed military operations and attended the inauguration of the state museum in Sarajevo. His wife, who feared for his life (in the face of Serbian nationalists who were claiming the territory), accompanied him. She was also pregnant that time and the couple was to celebrate their 14th wedding anniversary during the visit.

While touring the city on a motorcade, he drove past Muhammed Mehmedbasic, one of the Serbian conspirators. Muhammad had planned to assassinate him with the use of a grenade but was not expecting to see the Archduke there. And because he was caught by surprise, not prepared, and experienced a moment of indecision, he did not act.

Instead, it was his companion, another nationalist named Nedjeljko Cabrinovic, who tossed the grenade, but it bounced off the vehicle because the driver saw him and acted fast by speeding off. The grenade exploded behind the Archduke’s car. Franz Ferdinand’s life was spared but several members of his entourage were seriously injured.

Cabrinovic tried to commit suicide to avoid punishment by jumping into the Miljacka River, but it didn’t work because the water there was often shallow, and thus, won’t drown anyone. He made another attempt by swallowing a cyanide pill, but it only made him sick and failed to kill him. He was eventually arrested.

But the story did not end there. I guess the Archduke’s fate was already written in the stars.

Having cheated death, he decided one day to go to Sarajevo Hospital where his injured personnel were taken. The military general who travelled with him advised the convoy to avoid the city centre but forgot to brief the Archduke’s driver. As the vehicle crossed the Latin Bridge, the driver makes a right turn on Franz Josef Street to the direction of the city centre.

Coincidentally, there was a café at the corner of that street and on that day, Cabrinovic’s co-conspirator, Gavrilo Princip was there, having his coffee and sulking about the failed assassination attempt and the arrest of his friend. Imagine his surprise when he saw the convoy and Franz Ferdinand’s car slowly approaching. It was as if the party read his mind.

Maybe he had a lot of caffeine that morning and in a split-second, he acted fast. He had a gun with him. At this point, the driver had realized his mistake and tried to reverse the car to go in the other direction, but the car’s engine got stalled. Princip seized the opportunity. He ran, opened the car door and shot the Archduke and his wife, who both died within the hour. Chaos ensued and a mob attacked the assassin who was later arrested.

Austro-Hungary blamed Serbia for this and declared war a month after. Other nations jumped in to support the side they were allied with and the war began. The war went on for four years, involved more than 100 nations, killed more than 15 million people, injured 22 million, and led to the extinction of two great empires – the Austro-Hungarian and the Ottoman. World War I is considered the fifth deadliest conflict in human history and it all started on this humble bridge.

At its northern end, there is small museum that tells the story of this assassination and the 40 years of Austro-Hungarian rule in Sarajevo. And on one corner of the building, there is marker that indicates the spot where the incident happened.

Our Tour Director, in his animated style, even employed a couple of my willing tour mates to re-enact the scene with him for a more visual explanation. What a treat for us! My other tour mates who went with the local guide earlier certainly did not get this performance-filled narration. We even attracted a small audience of other tourists.

When the “show” ended, he announced that we should get going in less than an hour. He asked if there were other things in the vicinity that we wanted to see, or if we had any questions. Since there was not enough time to go to back to the caravanserai restaurant to linger over coffee, I just asked him where I could find some good burek.

Burek consists of layers of phyllo dough stuffed with savoury fillings. Despite its Turkish origins, this dish has evolved into a proud gem of Bosnian cuisine. Although most locals claim that only burek with ground beef can be called "real burek," the same dish can have other fillings with cottage cheese, spinach, potatoes as the most common. Burek is rolled into a snail-like shape, and this type is typically found in bakeries, while traditional restaurants often make it in the form of a pie, which is sliced into quarters before serving. Of course, I wanted to try it, and our guide knew just the place where to take me. My other tour mates decided to follow and get their bureks as well.

He led us to a bakery called Buregdzinica Oklagija 1946. The name suggested it had been around for some time and is an institution in the neighbourhood. The bakery had both the snail-shaped ones and the pies with various fillings and combinations, prepared from their original family recipes. Their specialties are heljdopita, a pie made from buckwheat flour, four kinds of cheeses, locally produced eggs, sour cream, and kajmak (rich cream cheese). They also offer a few varieties of pita that are made from whole-wheat flour.

Since there were a lot of us, the owner allowed us to place half orders. I got half of the meat burek and half of the cream cheese and spinach one. We almost emptied the bakery. I guess we were all hungry. This was our last stop before heading back to the bus.

Onboard, everyone was quiet while we munched on our bureks, and we all had a taste of each other’s bureks to try the different variations. By the time the bus left, we had all consumed our pastries and were happy and content.

We were a little bit delayed because we had to wait for the older American lady who got lost again. As our guide was trying to contact her cell, he jokingly said, “Of course, she is lost. She is a senior American.” But once he got hold of her, he patiently gave her repeated directions on the phone, waited till she found our bus, and alleviated her worries, as she had obviously gotten more stressed than usual.