Sarajevo is a city of contrasts. The hurried bustle of life that unfailingly accompanies any city is slightly tempered. People step warily over spider-shaped shell holes symbolically filled with red rubber. They check into the new and blindingly blue Hotel Europa, situated next to the old Hotel Europa, a condemned skeletal edifice whose sides are licked by creeping tendrils of flames and gouged shell holes of the blackest black. They live in pristine apartment buildings but their old homes often still remain, a confused mess of jutting, splintered beams and looted dressers. It is a city on the mend, but a city whose last vestiges of war are everywhere you look.

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