My Mostar

By Mirna Jelčić

I was introduced to Mostar by my grandmother—through her love for her hometown, where every street hums with history and humor, a love that never faded, not even when she closed her eyes for good in her nineties. Born in 1920, she carried that distinctive spirit of Mostar with her wherever she went. Her accent, melodic like a song, never softened, even though she lived outside the city for decades. Gifted with a soprano voice, she sang and acted at the Mostar theatre, and all her brothers and sisters—eight of them—either sang or played music in cultural and artistic societies. After my grandfather’s death, she rarely sang, but her humor remained as sharp as ever—she would roll her eyes and jokingly pray to God for salvation every time I tried to sing. That was love, Mostar-style: a blend of wit, irony, and tenderness that perfectly embodies the city itself.

I look at her photographs from the late 1930s. Mostar has always been a city of contrasts: refined yet rough, sophisticated yet unpretentious. Some women followed the latest European fashion trends—tailored coats with defined waists, wide-brimmed hats, and high heels were a matter of prestige—while others were modestly dressed, traditional and religious, yet still a visible pillar of their families and communities. In Mostar, multiculturalism lived long before the term became a global catchphrase. The city absorbed different traditions, religions, and customs, creating a culture that was rich, layered, and open. From my grandmother’s black-and-white photographs, a romantic Mostar speaks boldly of beautiful women, their suitors, and lovestruck men with poetic hearts.

One of the city’s greatest treasures is the sevdalinka Emina, written by the Mostar poet Aleksa Šantić. The song portrays admiration and longing for a woman of another faith and culture, carrying within it a quiet, dignified sadness. Emina deeply resonates with anyone who knows the soul of the city—almost like an unofficial anthem of Mostar, a fusion of melancholy and beauty. My grandmother, with her gentle soprano, engraved this song into my heart forever. A particularly special moment was hearing it dressed in a new guise, performed by young musicians from the Mostar Rock School at the ceremonial opening of the Red Bull Cliff Diving competition. Even if you don’t understand the language, the emotion is unmistakable. And the message of the song is clear: finding beauty—and love within that beauty.

Still, Mostar has a very specific kind of humor that is not for the faint-hearted. To survive here, one must know how to laugh and not take oneself too seriously. Those blessed with quick minds and sharp tongues lovingly call themselves liske. Such people can turn anything—no matter how trivial or serious—into a joke, having mastered the art of gentle yet precise mockery. In Mostar, nothing goes unnoticed, and humor can be cruel; it is simply a way of life. Teasing here is a form of art, deeply inscribed in the city’s identity.

Artists and eccentric characters form the informal elite of Mostar. To earn respect, it is almost necessary to be a little eccentric or creative. Streets named after local artists are constant reminders of the city’s strong bond with art. Famous people seeking anonymity could feel safe here—Mostar has perfected the art of ignoring fame. In this unassuming corner of Herzegovina, you are nobody until you shine through talent or oddity.

I moved to Mostar for work, and then I found a Mostar man—with a house—into which I moved. All the Mostar that left with my grandmother returned to me in another form, in another kind of love, and I discovered it all over again. Every woman and every man of Mostar is one layer of this unusual city, and no one—not even Mostar’s own people—will ever be able to fully know it, because with every person, it is born anew.