We Do Adventure

It's not a picture I'm proud of but I'll say I guess it had to be done to mask the clear lack of principled behaviour on display here. As someone who has enjoy living in a land beyond the reach of McDonalds and Starbucks it is unfortunate to have to confess that this weekend's trip to Sarajevo saw us not just sampling McDonalds traditional fast-food but also indulging in their take of the Starbucks formula. One of the key strengths of the McDonalds brand is that, whatever you think of it, their food tastes the same wherever in the world you eat it. I don't care much for McDonalds' ability to steam a burger to within an inch of its life, but their hot apple pies and ice cream are a special kind of plastic magic. But who would have imagined they could tackled the decent coffee and cake thing? I was genuinely surprised; I certainly won't rule out a return visit. And that's a confession I didn't expect to make.

Before we left England it seemed three things dominated the average high street: estate agents, greetings card shops and coffee shops. But despite all the Starbucks, Costas and shameless imitators nothing prepared us for the sheer quantity of cafes in Bosnia Herzegovina. Here in Mostar it seems there is one on every street corner, and they are there merely to bookmark the many more in between. When it comes to a comparing them we’ve barely scraped the surface. However on Friday night we went out for coffee at the Hotel Bristol . I’d long admired their large terrace and it was one of the first evenings of the year warm enough to test it out. We sat up near the water feature on some comfortable chairs and had a very pleasant time of it. No surprise there, perhaps, but there was one in store when we looked at the bill. Here we were sitting outside one of Mostar’s top three hotels and the bill was exactly the same as it would have been in many cafes that could better be described as ‘dive...

Just watch the video and imagine what might have happened!

Rowan was only commenting earlier today on how well we had done to avoid the smell of smoke. She spoke too soon. Tonight we went out to meet some friends and ended up having coffee in a room where the smoke hung thick and blue, punctuated by blasts of fresh air only when a new customer opened the door. Such an environment would now be unthinkable in a nanny state bossed by Brussels but Bosnia Herzegovina is beyond the legislative reach of that particular breed of beaurocrat. So we smell. A few years back you could have sat in the non-smoking section of a restaurant in the UK and come home smelling the same. (Most non-smoking sections were a painfully futile exercise - remember?) Had we moved here back then we'd probably not have noticed. But leaving a smoke-free England makes the contrast particularly marked. We're told there is a general fear of drafts so as winter sets in we will have to acclimatise quickly. Here's to stuffy, smoky, social outings!