My most vivid memory from childhood involves a harrowing adventure on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride in Disneyland. I remember my mom laughing while she let me “drive” the car. Unaware that the car was on tracks, I believed that I was in control of the uncontrollable car, and that I was therefore putting the lives of my family members at a terrible risk. As we sped in and out of tunnels, and dodged obstacles, I was sobbing hysterically, begging my mom to take back the steering wheel. I was a stressed out kid.

I was reminded of this memory during my journey from Belgrade to Sarajevo, Bosnia. The Balkan countries are notorious for their horrible transporation system. It is almost impossible to find a quick, and comfortable method of transportation from one country to the next. Having been warned that the city bus to Sarajevo only left once a day, and that it took allll day, we decided to book seats in a shuttle bus. GEA tours picked us up from our hostel, and we were promised a five-hour drive (ha) to Sarajevo. A big black van pulled up, and our stone-faced Serbian driver silently grabbed our bags without making eye contact. Then with a flick of his wrist, he silently motioned for us to get into the packed car. I was lucky enough to sit next to a very old man, who kept accidentally hitting me with his sharp elbow. Clearly, this was going to be a long day.

The next few hours was a crash-course introduction to Serbian traffic laws. There are none. Our driver seemed more interested in his phone than in navigating safely on the curvy, mountainous roads. I held my breath each time he slammed on the breaks just before hitting the car in front of us. I closed my eyes, praying that this Mr. Toad would stop playing chicken with oncoming traffic.

After nearly seven hours and one particularly long lunch break (we had to wait in a gas station while Mr. Toad ate lunch in a nice cafe), we somehow made it safely to Sarajevo. Our super friendly driver silently helped us with our bags, and with a flick of his wrist, he motioned where to find our hostel. We stayed in the appropriately named Franz Ferdinand hostel, right in the center of the tiny city of Sarajevo.

In Belgrade, I had caught a glimpse of the aftermath of the Bosnian war. Here in Sarajevo, reminders of the war are a part of everyday life. Throughout the city there are bullet holes in buildings. Red Sarajevo Roses on the pavement mark the scars of mortar shells. Monuments solemnly read the names of those who died in sniper and grenade attacks. War tours are advertised everywhere. The Bosnian War began in 1992, and ended in 1995. It is said that one morning the people of Sarajevo woke up to find that their Serbian neighbors had fled the city, without a single word of warning. Their city, nestled in the foothills of the mountains, was suddenly surrounded by the Serbian army and cut off from the rest of the world. The siege would last four years, and by the end of it, 11000 people would be dead.

This was all new to me, all fascinating. Above all, it was humbling. I was only six when the war ended, but I can recall praying for the Bosnians in church, and catching glimpses of the coverage on TV. I had such an innocent childhood, while Bosnian children were living through hell. Despite America’s leading role in ending the war, I never learned about it. I never read about it, never showed any interest in a war that took place in my lifetime. I was honestly only aware of the Srebrenica massacre because I’m a big fan of the movie Behind Enemy Lines. While walking around the war-torn city, I realized that this was my one and only chance to really learn about a war that forever changed life in the Balkans.

I decided to go on the Sarajevo Under Siege tour. The tour outlined the events of the war when the city of Sarajevo was completely surrounded by the Serbian army. The first stop was the Sarajevo Tunnel of Hope. The Serbs had cut off supplies to the city, and in retaliation, the Bosnians constructed a tunnel that led to Bosnian-controlled territory near the airport. There they could get food, fresh water, and weapons for the people of Sarajevo.

Our Bosnian guide was only ten months old when the war began, but he still offered incredible first-hand accounts of the terror. He recalled being told as a child not to pick up any toys found on the roads. It was well-known that the Serbs targeted children by placing toys around the city filled with explosives. Minefields then became an daily nightmare.

Next, we drove up a nearby mountain to what was once Serbian-controlled territory. We passed by bombed out buildings that were destroyed by American bombs. At the edge of the mountain, we stood where the Serbs had placed their rocket launcher, which was used to rain down terror upon the city. From this height, they had the entire city in their scopes. Their very first target was the maternity ward of a hospital.

Lastly, we walked along the abandoned Olympic Bobsled track. Covered in graffitti and vines, it is a haunting reminder of happier days in Bosnia. “In just eight years, we fell from a golden era to the darkest days in our history.”

The tour was obviously depressing, but I highly recommend it. I learned so much, much more than I ever could from a book or a classroom. Our guide was eager to answer questions, and to have a clear, in-depth conversation on the religious conflicts in the region that caused the war. Don’t miss the tour if you are ever in Sarajevo.

My last day in Sarajevo ended on a high note. Meret and I joined our new friends Emily and Elyssa in exploring the city.

Just before sunset, we grabbed a couple bottles of cider and bags of snacks, and we hiked up a steep hill to the Yellow Fortress. It was Ramadan, and the people of Sarajevo were preparing to celebrate the setting of the sun with a grand celebration in the fortress. Everyone seemed to have a huge box of pizza, ready to gorge as soon as night fell. We watched the sunset together, while drinking and laughing, and fighting off swarms of what we later referred to as the “Dreaded Bosnian Night Bees” (seriously, they were horrible.) It was a great night with a beautiful view and excellent friends.

I loved Sarajevo because I learned so much. Often while traveling it’s easy for me to seek out places that are fun or relaxing. However I am always glad when I have travelled to a place that teaches me something, that takes me out of my comfort zone. From the wild ride through the Bosnian countryside, to walking through the Tunnel of Hope, my days in Sarajevo proved to be a true learning experience, and one that I will never forget.