<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>