I planned the entire trip to Bosnia and Herzegovina the night before.
I was in Sofia, Bulgaria, scrolling through maps and half-paying attention to travel blogs while trying to decide where to go next. Bosnia and Herzegovina grabbed me because it was feasible and I knew almost nothing about the country. Honestly, I didn’t even know what currency they used. I booked my accommodation late that evening, bookmarked a few points of interest, packed some clothes and set an alarm for 4:30am.
The next morning, I left Sofia at 5am with coffee in hand and no real expectations.
It turned out to be one of the best decisions I’ve made.
Some countries impress you with famous landmarks. Bosnia and Herzegovina surprised me in a completely different way. What stayed with me most wasn’t a single attraction, but the constant beauty of the landscapes and the atmosphere that seemed to exist everywhere — especially around Mostar and the surrounding region.
The country felt wild, cinematic and strangely undiscovered.
The first thing that caught me off guard was the driving itself. Bosnia and Herzegovina is the kind of place where the road becomes part of the experience. One moment you’re winding through steep mountain passes with endless forest views, the next you’re driving alongside rivers so turquoise they look digitally enhanced. Tiny villages appear suddenly between cliffs and valleys, often with smoke drifting from chimneys and elderly men sitting outside cafés watching cars pass by.
I found myself pulling over constantly.
Not for landmarks. Just for scenery.
Some of the most beautiful moments happened unexpectedly — a narrow road cutting through pine-covered mountains, a hidden river canyon glowing bright green in the afternoon light, or a quiet village bakery surrounded by rolling hills. There were stretches where I drove for nearly an hour without music because the landscape demanded complete attention.
…Bosnian bakeries, from burek to everything shaped from flour, are a temptation that lingers long after the journey ends.
At one point, passing through the eastern part of the country near Višegrad, I remember stopping the car entirely just to stare. The town sits beside the Drina River surrounded by steep green mountains, and everything about it looked impossibly peaceful. The famous bridge stretched elegantly across the water while mist lingered over the hills in the distance.
It felt timeless.
Eventually, I reached Sarajevo.
My first impression was immediate panic.
Nobody had prepared me for how insanely narrow and steep the roads around the old town would be. Driving through Sarajevo felt like navigating a maze built into a mountainside. Streets twisted sharply uphill between tightly packed buildings while cars somehow squeezed past each other with centimetres to spare. Every turn felt slightly chaotic.
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And somehow, that chaos became part of the charm almost instantly.
Sarajevo feels layered in every possible way. Ottoman architecture blends into Austro-Hungarian buildings while mosques, churches, cafés and bakeries all exist side by side. The city feels dense, authentic, and deeply lived in. It doesn’t feel curated for tourists. Life simply happens around you.
I stayed in a homestay right on the river, and at night I could hear the water flowing outside my window while the city slowly quieted down. During the day, I wandered through Baščaršija, Sarajevo’s old bazaar district, where copper workshops clanged softly in narrow alleys, and cafés overflowed with people drinking coffee for hours at a time.
But one thing quickly became clear during those two days in Sarajevo: Bosnia and Herzegovina might quietly have some of the best bakeries in Europe.
The roadside bakeries — the pekaras — became an essential part of the trip. Every town seemed to have them. Some were tiny family-run places with fogged-up windows and handwritten signs; others were larger neighbourhood bakeries packed with locals early in the morning.
…Just drive. A turquoise river bend. The rise of a pine-covered mountain. A cosy roadside bakery. A hamlet between cliffs. This is Bosnia.
The smell alone was impossible to resist.
Most mornings began with hot burek fresh from the oven, wrapped in paper and still too hot to hold properly. Flaky pastry stuffed with meat, cheese, or potato somehow tasted even better after hours of driving through mountain roads. I became slightly obsessed with stopping at random bakeries along the way, especially in smaller villages where everything felt homemade and unhurried.
One of my favourite memories from the trip is standing beside my car somewhere in the countryside eating cheese burek while soaking up the mountains in the distance.
Nothing fancy. Just perfect.
After Sarajevo, I drove south toward Mostar, and that stretch of road alone would justify visiting Bosnia and Herzegovina.
The drive follows the Neretva River for long stretches, and the scenery becomes almost absurdly beautiful. Massive mountains rise sharply beside the road while the river glows in impossible shades of turquoise and emerald green below. Every few kilometres seemed to reveal another unbelievable viewpoint.
I must have stopped dozens of times just to take it all in.
Then came Mostar
From the moment I arrived, the atmosphere felt completely different from Sarajevo. Warmer. Slower. Softer somehow. I spent three nights there, and by the second evening, I already understood why so many people fall in love with the place.
Mostar’s old town is beautiful in a way that almost doesn’t feel real at times. Stone alleyways wind beneath Ottoman-era buildings while restaurants spill out toward the river. And then there’s Stari Most — the famous bridge arching dramatically above the glowing blue-green Neretva River.
No matter how many times I crossed it, the view never became ordinary.
The best moments in Mostar happened early in the morning and late in the evening. Before the multitude gathered, the old town felt calm and atmospheric. Shopkeepers slowly opened their stores while sunlight hit the stone streets, and the river below reflected the surrounding buildings perfectly.
At night, lanterns lit the alleys and conversations echoed softly through the old town while the smell of grilled meat and fresh bread drifted through the air.
I could have stayed there for weeks.
…In Bosnia, if you do not start your day with coffee poured from a copper pot, you have completely missed the point.
During my time in Mostar, I visited Kravica Waterfalls, arriving around 10 am before the concourse of visitors and tour buses appeared. That timing made all the difference. For a while, the waterfalls felt peaceful and almost untouched. Water crashed into bright green pools surrounded by thick forest while mist drifted through the air in the morning sunlight.
Later that same day, I drove to Blagaj for lunch and the scenery there might have been the highlight of the entire trip.
Blagaj feels almost unreal. The Buna River bursts directly from a cave beneath towering cliffs beside the famous Dervish monastery, creating one of the most beautiful natural settings in the Balkans. I found a riverside restaurant and stayed far longer than intended, eating fresh trout and warm bread while staring at the icy blue water flowing beneath the cliffs.
That was Bosnia and Herzegovina in a nutshell for me.
Unexpected beauty everywhere.
Not just in famous landmarks, but in the roads between places, the rivers beside villages, the mountain scenery around every corner and the atmosphere of towns like Mostar that somehow manage to feel both vibrant and peaceful at the same time.
I arrived knowing almost nothing about the country.
I left already wanting to return.
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