How we got kicked out of Bosnia & Herzegovina and later I spent hours in a Bosnian police station

Our drives tend to be adventurous, and going from Belgrade to Sarajevo was no exception. Google Maps suggests the road time to be just shy of five hours, covering 183 miles, so just over 35 mph on average. The roads on the Serbian side leading up to the border were mostly highways with max speeds of up to 130 kph (~80 mph). We later realized the reason for the slow average is on the Bosnian side the terrain quickly turns mountainous and on the route to Sarajevo there aren’t any highways, but as we left Belgrade at 11:00am, I felt pretty confident we’d pull into Sarajevo by our goal of 5:00-6:00p.m., even with stops.

The first half (55% by distance) of our drive took us to the Bosnian border and went very smoothly aside from almost getting a parking ticket when we stopped for lunch. We reached the midway point at about 3:30p.m., so were a little behind schedule, but still feeling okay. We had read not to drive through Bosnia at night to avoid road dangers (including traffic police looking for a bribe). As we made it through the first checkpoint and got our passports stamped, I envisioned us pulling up to our apartment as early as 6:15, maybe 7:00 if we had any trouble.

We crossed the Drina River into Bosnia and pulled up to the second checkpoint where they wanted to see our passports again plus the car registration. I handed them the handy dandy little Sixt folder I was given by the rental company and was promptly told I didn’t have the registration card. Huh? Uh oh. What registration card? I called Sixt and handed the phone to the Bosnian border patrol hoping that together they could clear things up. When I got the phone back, the Sixt worker said, “I’m so sorry for this, but we need to get a document to you. I’m alerting a colleague who will be there shortly.” Okay! I thought, they must have a nearby office. I asked how long it would be and the Sixt worker said it depended on traffic, but her colleague would come right away. By this point we were pulled off to the side and I asked the border agent if I should just wait there. He looked at me incredulously and said, “You can’t stay here, back to Serbia!” So we were kicked out of Bosnia at 4:00p.m. on a Tuesday.

We went back through passport control the opposite way and parked at a market. That’s when I decided to call Sixt back and get a better time estimate. Turned out they were coming from the Belgrade Airport, ugh! Three hours later, and two hours after the sun had set, the Sixt guy showed up with the registration card. We wasted no time going back through passport control and getting our third stamp of the day.

Driving at night in B&H started out not to be too bad. There wasn’t much traffic and we had no run-ins with police. At one point, Google directed us off the main road, and I, being the obedient rule-follower that I am, complied with Google’s instructions. It turned out to be a road that alternated between pavement and dirt, and at times was only wide enough for a single car. There were also two sets of dogs that jumped out at the cars out of nowhere barking their heads off and making sure the drivers were staying awake. We were in a pretty wooded area with not many houses and was very rural. About 20-30 minutes into this Google-led side route, the road actually became impassible and we were forced to turn around with Trevor out of his car making sure we didn’t drive our enormous car off of a cliff. When we finally got back past the attack dogs and to the main road, we were grateful to be safe, but had pushed our arrival time back by another hour.

Ready to be done with unforeseen obstacles, we forged ahead and were making fine progress until we started climbing and climbing and climbing and became enveloped in some of the thickest fog I’ve ever seen. Absent any tail lights in front of us, it was impossible to see more than about 15 feet ahead. By the time we made it through the fog, I had been gripping the steering wheel so hard for so long I swear some of it must’ve peeled off onto my hands.

We FINALLY pulled up to our place just before 11:00p.m., 12 hours after leaving Belgrade. Keegan was out cold, and the owner of our place was so kind and sweet, he lifted Keegan from the van and actually carried him inside! The rest of us grabbed our backpacks and all of the suitcases and went inside to crash. The next morning, as we were leaving to grab coffee, I saw that our driver’s window had been smashed. We had taken almost everything inside the night before, except for Keegan’s backpack and a few loose items. Those items, including the backpack, were all gone. I had also left the Sixt registration document that caused so much trouble the day before, and thank goodness the thieves left that for us! Such thoughtful thieves. We actually ended up finding Keegan’s backpack and most of its contents (including his travel journal, so priceless) strewn into some bushes not far away, but the thieves did keep his kindle, a walkie-talkie, a sweatshirt Anya had just bought in Belgrade, some electronic cords, and earbuds I got for my birthday.

Our apartment owner once again proved to be an amazing host and spent a couple hours with me three different times during the day helping me file a police report and being my translator since none of the police spoke English (and my Bosnian is a bit rusty). He also helped me the day after that, instructing a Sixt employee to a nearby monitored parking lot after they had replaced the window with plexiglass and vacuumed up all the glass (well, most of the glass).

So, that’s how we got kicked out of Bosnia and I spent hours inside a police station all within a 24-hour period. Welcome to Bosnia and Herzegovina!