Mostar is known for its iconic Old Bridge, its winding Ottoman-era streets, and the ever-changing colors of the Neretva River. But every so often, if you wander slowly enough and let curiosity be your guide, you might find yourself face-to-face with one of the city’s most intimate cultural treasures—a street performance that feels more like a personal gift than a public show.
Seated on a low stone ledge in the shade of an old building, his back against a deep red wall, an elderly man strums the šargija—a traditional Bosnian string instrument rarely seen outside of folk ensembles or private gatherings. His presence is calm yet magnetic, drawing the attention of passersby who find themselves slowing, listening, and lingering.
The šargija is as much a piece of Bosnia’s heritage as the bridge that arches over the Neretva. Carved from wood, with a pear-shaped body and a long, narrow neck, it carries a sound that is both bright and warm. Its origins trace back to the Ottoman influence in the Balkans, and its repertoire blends centuries of storytelling through music. The instrument’s melodies often evoke themes of love, longing, and the changing seasons—timeless emotions that transcend language.
On this street in Mostar, the music floats between the hum of shopkeepers calling out their wares and the soft shuffle of tourists’ footsteps over worn cobblestones. The man’s voice—weathered but strong—joins the instrument in songs that might have been sung in these very streets a hundred years ago. Occasionally, he looks up, catching the eyes of a listener, and the moment becomes more than just performance—it becomes connection.
Encounters like this aren’t scheduled. You can’t book them on a tour or add them to your itinerary with certainty. They happen when they happen, and perhaps that’s their beauty. In a city where history is told through its architecture and museums, moments like this tell it through living tradition.
If you visit Mostar, take time to wander beyond the main path to Stari Most. Listen for the faint notes of the šargija weaving through the air. You may not always find him there—but if you do, let the music slow your steps, and perhaps drop a small token of appreciation into the open case at his feet. You’ll leave not only with photographs and memories of the bridge, but with a piece of Mostar’s soul carried in a song.
