Postcards from Bosnia

<p>A warm afternoon in the city</p><p>Yesterday I spent a few unhurried hours wandering through the centre of Banja Luka, recorder in hand.</p><p>The weather couldn’t have been kinder, soft autumn sunshine, blue skies without a single cloud, and just enough of a breeze to make the church bells carry across the square.</p><p>I hadn’t come with an agenda. No interviews lined up, no story to chase. Just a simple aim. To listen.</p><p>To capture a little of the city’s everyday rhythm for my soundscape series.</p><p>Walking Gospodska Ulica — Gentleman Street</p><p>I started along <strong>Gospodska Ulica</strong>, better known to locals as <em>Gentleman Street</em>.</p><p>It’s one of those iconic places every Bosnian city seems to have, the kind of street where everyone meets, strolls, and watches life go by.</p><p>The name has a lovely backstory.</p><p>In the late 1800s, this was once a marshy lane known as <em>Muslina Bara, </em>“the Muslim pond.” Then a local shopkeeper, <strong>Toma Radulović</strong>, decided his new store needed a bit of flair. He put up a wooden sign reading <em>Gospodska Ulica, “</em> Gentleman Street”, and somehow, the name stuck.</p><p>More than a century later, the official name might have changed, but everyone still calls it <em>Gospodska</em>.</p><p>It’s lined with elegant façades and old-world balconies, mixed now with cafés, boutiques, and that steady murmur of everyday conversation that gives a city its heartbeat.</p><p>The laughter of Children’s Week</p><p>But this week, Gospodska was even livelier than usual.</p><p>Banja Luka is celebrating <strong>Children’s Week</strong> (<em>Dječija Nedjelja</em>), a tradition across Bosnia where kindergartens and schools fill public spaces with games, laughter, and small performances. It’s a simple idea, to dedicate a few days to joy, imagination, and the importance of childhood, but it transforms the city completely.</p><p>Everywhere I turned there were clusters of children, waving flags, chasing balloons, holding hands in long lines as teachers tried, mostly unsuccessfully, to keep order.</p><p>The soundscape was pure energy.High-pitched laughter echoing off stone façades, the squeak of balloon strings, the rhythmic steps of tiny shoes on old cobbles.</p><p>I set my recorder near the main Orthodox Church, letting it soak up the mix of voices, bells, and city hum. There was no need to talk, the sound told its own story.</p><p>Listening between the moments</p><p>Later, back home, I played the recordings through my headphones.</p><p>What struck me wasn’t just the noise, but the <em>layers</em> of it. The contrast between the old street’s calm architecture and the bright chaos of the children passing through it.</p><p>That’s the beauty of recording life here in Bosnia: even the most ordinary day turns into a story when you slow down and listen.</p><p>So this week’s postcard isn’t about travel or food or history. It’s about sound.</p><p>About a single afternoon on Gentleman Street, where laughter filled the air and the past and present shared the same space for a while.</p><p>If you enjoyed this little postcard from my life in Bosnia, I’d love to hear from you. You can drop me a message.</p><p>Thank You</p> <br/><br/>This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit <a href="https://www.coffeeandrakija.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&#38;utm_campaign=CTA_2">www.coffeeandrakija.com/subscribe</a>

<p><em>Postcards from Bosnia is an audio journey into the heart of Bosnia and Herzegovina, seen through the eyes of an Englishman who has made this place his home.</em></p><p><em>Paid members get access to everything I create, including exclusive podcasts, behind-the-scenes reflections, photo essays, and more that I only share with my inner circle ☕✨</em><em>Thanks so much in advance.</em></p><p>In today’s episode of Postcards from Bosnia, I’m taking you behind the fast-paced noise of the internet to the quiet rhythms of my little village here in northern Bosnia and Herzegovina. Life here isn’t measured in likes, views, or endless notifications, it’s shaped by the seasons, the people, and the simple rituals that keep us grounded.</p><p>As someone now in my seventies, I’ve discovered that choosing <strong>slow living in Bosnia</strong> has been the key to staying creative, active, and inspired. I’ll share how daily walks along the River Vrbas, conversations with neighbours, and even the traditions of harvest and rakija-making give me more energy and ideas than chasing trends ever could.</p><p>If you’ve ever felt the pressure to post faster, scroll endlessly, or keep up with online trends, this episode is for you. You’ll hear why stepping back, embracing slower rhythms, and focusing on authentic storytelling can help you rediscover your creativity, no matter your age.</p><p>Slow living isn’t just a lifestyle choice, it’s a creative toolkit. And here in Bosnia, it might just hold lessons for all of us.</p><p>Let’s Stay Connected?</p><p>If you enjoyed this little postcard from my Bosnian summer, I’d love to hear from you. You can drop me a message.</p><p>Thank You</p><p>Thank you for listening to these little slices of my life. If you’d like to get more stories, you can subscribe to my Substack, it’s free, and if you ever want to upgrade to paid but can’t afford it, just email me. I’ll sort it out, no questions asked.</p><p>Here are 3 questions I have.</p><p>* What would make you hit “play” on an audio post instead of just reading?</p><p>* What makes a podcast episode feel personal or meaningful to you?</p><p>* Would you like me to add audio versions of my blog posts so you can choose how to enjoy them?</p><p><em>I’ll give a complimentary subscription to Coffee and Rakija for life for taking the time to answer.</em></p><p>More From Me</p> <br/><br/>This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit <a href="https://www.coffeeandrakija.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&#38;utm_campaign=CTA_2">www.coffeeandrakija.com/subscribe</a>

<p>Not too long ago, I was sitting quietly here at home when something odd happened.</p><p>My lower lip went numb.</p><p>Not entirely, but just enough to make me stop and think.</p><p>Now, for most people, that might not mean much. Maybe just a fleeting reminder of a trip to the dentist. But for me, it took me straight back, nearly 40 years back, in fact, to a part of my life I rarely talk about.</p><p>A chapter that began with a similar sensation… and ended with me learning to walk again.</p><p>A Different Kind of Journey</p><p>Back in 1987, I was serving with the British Army in Germany. Life was, as it always seemed to be back then, busy, fast-paced, and full of uniformed routine.</p><p>And then I noticed something strange. First, the tingling around my mouth. Then the pins and needles in my feet. I chalked it up to tight boots. Classic army thinking, really.</p><p>But within days, my speech had started to slur. I was staggering, though I didn’t realise it at the time. My mates thought I’d been drinking. I hadn’t.</p><p>Things escalated quickly. I was sent to the military hospital in Hannover, where the doctors were puzzled. Tests, theories, guesses. No answers.</p><p>Within days, I was flown back to the UK, to the military hospital in Aldershot. And within hours of arriving, they had a diagnosis:</p><p><a target="_blank" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guillain%E2%80%93Barr%C3%A9_syndrome"><strong>Guillain-Barré Syndrome.</strong></a></p><p>What Is Guillain-Barré Syndrome?</p><p>I’d never heard of it back then. Most people still haven’t.</p><p><strong>Guillain-Barré Syndrome (GBS)</strong> <em>is a rare autoimmune disorder where the body’s immune system mistakenly attacks the peripheral nervous system. It can cause muscle weakness, numbness, and in more severe cases, like mine, paralysis.</em></p><p><em>It affects about 1 in 100,000 people each year. So not common. But when it strikes, it can be devastating.</em></p><p><em>There’s no known cause, though it’s often triggered by a viral or bacterial infection. And there’s no cure, only treatment and rehabilitation.</em></p><p>In my case, I was paralysed from the chest down. By Christmas Eve 1987, I was in intensive care, unable to move and barely able to breathe after also contracting the flu. It wasn’t exactly the festive break I’d imagined.</p><p></p><p><em>Thanks for reading Coffee and Rakija! This post is public so feel free to share it.</em></p><p></p><p>The Long Way Back</p><p>Recovery was slow. There’s no shortcut with GBS. It takes its time, and you just have to go along with it.</p><p>After some time in a general ward, wheelchair-bound and struggling, I was sent to a place that would become central to my recovery: <a target="_blank" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Headley_Court"><strong>RAF Headley Court</strong></a><strong>.</strong></p><p>Now, if you’ve never heard of it, <strong>Headley Court</strong> was a military rehabilitation centre in Surrey, housed in a beautiful old country manor. For decades, it helped wounded service personnel rebuild their lives, physically, mentally, and emotionally.</p><p>Originally opened during WWII to treat RAF pilots with severe injuries, it became known for its cutting-edge rehabilitation programmes and holistic approach. Sadly, the Ministry of Defence closed it in 2018, moving rehabilitation services elsewhere, but back in the 80s and 90s, it was a beacon of recovery.</p><p>And for me? It was where I learned to walk again. Literally.</p><p>Climbing stairs, balancing on crutches, falling down and getting back up.</p><p>There were days I thought I wouldn’t make it.</p><p>But the staff there were extraordinary. Firm but fair. Encouraging without pity.</p><p>Not Just Physical</p><p>One thing I hadn’t expected was the emotional toll.</p><p>When you lose your independence, even temporarily, you realise just how much you take for granted.</p><p>Simple things like walking to the bathroom. Signing your name. Holding a cup of tea.</p><p>Everything had to be relearned.</p><p>But slowly, with effort (and a bit of British stubbornness), I got there. And 18 months after that first numb lip, I was back in uniform. Not long after that, I was climbing volcanoes in the Ecuadorian Andes, just to prove to myself that I could.</p><p></p><p><em>Coffee and Rakija is a reader, listener, viewer-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a paid subscriber.</em></p><p></p><p>Still With Me?</p><p>I don’t tell this story very often. It’s not something that comes up in conversation here in the Balkans.</p><p>But that lip? That tiny little sensation the other day?</p><p>It reminded me that <strong>Guillain-Barré Syndrome never really leaves you</strong>.</p><p>These days, I’m over 70 and still reasonably active, walking daily, exploring, creating, podcasting. But the fatigue that comes with GBS is something else. It’s not ordinary tiredness. It’s deeper. Heavier.</p><p>Back in the day, I ignored it. I was told to rest when I felt exhausted. I didn’t. Army culture doesn’t make room for naps.</p><p>But now? I listen to my body. I rest when I need to. And I don’t feel guilty about it anymore.</p><p>Why I’m Sharing This</p><p>I’m sharing this not because I want sympathy or attention, but because maybe, just maybe, someone else out there is struggling with strange symptoms, exhaustion, or the slow road to recovery.</p><p>If that’s you, you’re not weak. You’re healing.</p><p>And if, by chance, you’ve had Guillain-Barré Syndrome too… get in touch. There aren’t many of us, and it’s always good to swap stories from the other side.</p><p>Until Next Time</p><p>Next post, I promise, we’ll be back to rivers and rakija.</p><p>But every now and then, it’s good to remember where we’ve come from.</p><p>And if your lip ever goes numb… maybe don’t just blame the coffee.</p><p>Stay curious. Stay kind. And rest when you need to.</p><p>More From Me</p><p></p> <br/><br/>This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit <a href="https://www.coffeeandrakija.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&#38;utm_campaign=CTA_2">www.coffeeandrakija.com/subscribe</a>

<p>Pull up a chair — this one’s a ramble, but the good kind.</p><p>It’s a Wednesday evening in northwest Bosnia. The sun’s just dipped behind Kozara National Park, painting the sky in that deep red you only get here. Tamara’s in Banja Luka with her mum, Predrag (her father) is off with a chainsaw (don’t ask), and I’m here with two dogs, seven cats, and my thoughts.</p><p>This episode is about what it <em>really</em> takes to live here long-term. Not the glossy “buy a house in Portugal” kind of podcast episode, but the truth about visas, bureaucracy, and why most foreigners in Bosnia are here because they’ve married locals. I talk about property, residency permits, and why embracing the culture and language isn’t optional. It’s survival.</p><p>There’s a little bit of Hemingway, a little bit of homesickness, and a lot of reflection on what it means to be happy in later life. If you’ve ever thought about packing up and moving somewhere far from home — or you’ve done it and know that strange tug of wanting to visit “home” but never really go back — this one’s for you.</p><p>If you like the sound of crickets under a Balkan sunset and the idea of living somewhere without an expat bubble, hit play. This is life, unfiltered.</p><p>Let’s Stay Connected?</p><p>If you enjoyed this little postcard from my Bosnian summer, I’d love to hear from you. You can drop me a message.</p><p>Thank You</p><p>Thank you for listening to these little slices of my life. If you’d like to get more stories, you can subscribe to my Substack, it’s free, and if you ever want to upgrade to paid but can’t afford it, just email me. I’ll sort it out, no questions asked.</p><p>Here are 3 questions I have.</p><p>* What would make you hit “play” on an audio post instead of just reading?</p><p>* What makes a podcast episode feel personal or meaningful to you?</p><p>* Would you like me to add audio versions of my blog posts so you can choose how to enjoy them?</p><p><em>I’ll give a complimentary subscription to Coffee and Rakija for life for taking the time to answer.</em></p><p>More From Me</p> <br/><br/>This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit <a href="https://www.coffeeandrakija.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&#38;utm_campaign=CTA_2">www.coffeeandrakija.com/subscribe</a>

Welcome to Postcards from Bosnia, where I share personal stories, conversations, and moments of everyday life from my adopted home in Bosnia and Herzegovina. Whether you’re curious about the culture, thinking of visiting, or just enjoy a slower pace of storytelling, there’s something here for you.Pull up a chair — this one’s a ramble, but the good kind.It’s a Wednesday evening in northwest Bosnia. The sun’s just dipped behind Kozara National Park, painting the sky in that deep red you only get here. Tamara’s in Banja Luka with her mum, Predrag (her father) is off with a chainsaw (don’t ask), and I’m here with two dogs, seven cats, and my thoughts.This episode is about what it really takes to live here long-term. Not the glossy “buy a house in Portugal” kind of podcast episode, but the truth about visas, bureaucracy, and why most foreigners in Bosnia are here because they’ve married locals. I talk about property, residency permits, and why embracing the culture and language isn’t optional. It’s survival.There’s a little bit of Hemingway, a little bit of homesickness, and a lot of reflection on what it means to be happy in later life. If you’ve ever thought about packing up and moving somewhere far from home — or you’ve done it and know that strange tug of wanting to visit “home” but never really go back — this one’s for you.If you like the sound of crickets under a Balkan sunset and the idea of living somewhere without an expat bubble, hit play. This is life, unfiltered.Thanks for listening. If you enjoyed this episode, you can support the podcast by leaving a review or buying me a coffee, it really does help keep things going.Want to hear more or catch up on past episodes? Visit anenglishmaninthebalkans For a deeper look into life here in the Balkans, check out my Blog at Coffee and Rakija.Find us on ALL podcatchers at: PODLINK Until next time — stay curious.