IN 1946, Ivo Andric, who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1961, penned his classic short story “A Letter from the Year 1920,” wherein he explored the hatred in his native Bosnia.

“Most of you are used to leaving all power of hatred to something that is near you,” he wrote. “The sanctums you love are usually beyond three hundred rivers and mountains, while the objects of your abhorrence and hatred are there beside you, in the same town, often from the other side of the wall of your courtyard.”

Sarajevo, capital of Bosnia and Herzegovina, has had a bloody history. The assassination of an Austrian archduke there in 1914 triggered World War I, and eight decades later, when former Yugoslavia fell apart, the city was under siege for 1,425 days from Serbian forces, resulting in 11,541 deaths. It was the longest siege in history of a major city.

Last autumn, I spent 10 days traveling in Bosnia and Herzegovina, with most of my visit centered in Sarajevo.

What I remember most is the Friday morning when I was about to fly home to China. Carrying a jar of ajvar — a local relish made from red bell peppers and eggplant — I stopped by a newsstand in front of Sacred Heart Cathedral, near the old Ottoman enclave of Bascarsija.

“Dobar dan, gospodjo,” said the vendor, uttering the local greeting.

“Dobar dan,” I replied.

It was a crisp, cold morning, with the threat of rain hanging overhead. I was overcome with a sense of sorrow about the tragic history of the city.

To this day, Bosnia and Herzegovina still reels from its recent history. Sarajevo sits in the shadows of its past, fragile, like the random façades still studded with bullet holes.

Normal life here returns slowly, poignantly and absent-mindedly.

European travel agents bill it as a “weekend break” for tourists seeking a destination off the beaten track. In 1984, the city hosted the Winter Olympics, only to have a brief tourism dividend destroyed by the Bosnian war in the 1990s.

Located in the heart of the western Balkans and framed by the Dinaric Alps, Bosnia and Herzegovina has been at the crossroads of conflicts between great powers from East and West throughout its 1,000-year history. In the 15th century, its Middle Age Christian kingdom was conquered by the Ottoman Turks, who ruled for 400 years and introduced Islam. In 1697, during the Great Turkish War, a raid led by the Hapsburg’s Prince Eugene of Savoy against the Ottoman Empire burned much of the city to the ground.

In 1878, the Turks ceded control of Bosnia to the Austro-Hungarian Empire. After World War I, the area became part of former Yugoslavia. During World War II, the city was bombed by Allied forces.

Lying along a major trade route, Sarajevo has enjoyed eras as a major center of commerce and culture. Over the years, it has been home to Muslims, Catholics, Orthodox Christians and Jews, creating a rich melting pot of cultures.

The best-preserved Ottoman bazaar in the country is Bascarsija, which literally means “main bazaar.” It is located in the eastern end of the city, surrounded by residential neighborhoods. Sloped red brick and tawny roofs hang low over craft shops and restaurants along pedestrian streets dotted with the green domes of a mosque, a larger shopping venue and the Sebilj public fountain.

Bascarsija is a lively venue. Even if I close my eyes now, I can still “see” the poplars and blooming roses and hear the bubbling sound of the fountain in the compound of the mosque. I crave to once again taste the local cuisine, with its rich Middle Eastern flavors.

Tatjana Neidhardt wrote in her book “Sarajevo Across Time” of a philosophy of living — “the synthesis of a person and his environment, home and nature.” That applies to the mahale, or residential areas of the city today.

Svrzo’s House, a museum that was once the home of a wealthy Muslim family in the 18th and 19th centuries, is a testament to that.

The house took me back to Andric’s novel “The Chronicle of Travnik,” wherein he described the second floor of an Ottoman official’s residence in Bosnia. “Sitting on a little mattress,” he wrote, “the guest looked across the windows at the aisle, with its glass windows open, and under its roof, on its spruce beam, a swallow’s nest from which the bird’s twittering is heard.”

Nature, fountains and blossoms are often found in the lyrics of Bosnian folk songs. When strolling in the city, I saw an old woman sitting in front of a dilapidated house along a creek and complimented her on the pots of beautiful flowers on her doorstep. She replied simply, “I sowed them in the spring.”

In Bascarsija and elsewhere in the city, locals sit and chat, often over coffee. A Bosnian friend of mine once said, “When we have no time, we sit in a cafe.” Coffee culture, introduced to the country by the Ottoman Turks, has endured. Bosnians today are among the largest consumers of coffee in the world.

In Bascarsija, you can drink coffee the elaborate Bosnian way. It is served in a long-handled Turkish dzezva on a silver plate with a sugar cube and a glass of water. The “ritual” starts with drinking water, then pouring some coffee into a small ceramic cup in a small silver bowl. With a spoon, some of the foam is skimmed from the coffee in the dzezva to make a portion for the cup. Before drinking, a sugar cube is dipped in the cup and then placed under the tongue to melt.

“Although cafes are often accused of inducing laziness and do-nothingness,” wrote Muamer Spahic in his book “Bosnian Cuisine,” “they, in fact, prompt people to talk, to exchange information and cooperate without the risk of losing self-control, which often happens when they drink alcohol. In a joyful and unbinding atmosphere, people exchange news, hold open and serious conversations, strike business deals, discuss minor and grave topics, but also spread changing and unreliable information and gossip ...”

Coffee has different names in Bosnian, Croatian and Serbian, the three official languages of the country. In Bosnian it’s kahva, in Croatian kava and in Serbian kafa. There’s a popular joke that has a Croat asking for kava in a Sarajevo cafe, only to be told by the waiter that none is available. He then asks for kafa and gets the same answer. The waiter is a bit offended as the Croat at last asks for kahva. “Are you not boring?” the waiter replies. “We don’t have water today.”

Churches and synagogues are just a stone’s throw away from Bascarsija, reminding visitors of the mixed ethnicity of the city. The Bosnian war in the 1990s and the ensuing collapse of the economy led to an exodus of people, but today, Sarajevo remains a culturally diverse city.

Of its 275,524 residents in four urban districts, 225,088 are Muslims, 12,608 are Catholics and 10,532 are Orthodox Christians.

Adjacent to Bascarsija is the “European” section of Sarajevo, with buildings largely dating back to Austro-Hungarian rule. Today, the buildings house some of the most important institutions of Bosnia and Herzegovina, such as its presidency.

There are also bars, cafes, restaurants and shops, with a nightlife that extends into the wee hours. In this area, many apartments have been turned into hostels or studios leased to tourists. I stayed at one of those studios. The apartment, beneath a sloped roof, was located on the third floor of a commercial-residential building, with a bar as its first floor. My next-door neighbors were local.

“Has anything changed at all?” sings Sarajevo-born Bosnian pop legend Dino Merlin in his song “Is Sarajevo Where It Once Was” after the war.

Sarajevo residents like to think of themselves as home-loving, cosmopolitan and soulful, while Bosnian friar Mirko Majdandzic said in a recent interview, “We in Bosnia and Herzegovina are so similar that we don’t love each other just because we’re similar.”

Almost all major historical and cultural sites in Sarajevo are within walking distance. Although it’s easy to get lost in the meandering lanes, the trick is to use the river Miljacka, which runs east to west, as a reliable landmark.

Bosnia and Herzegovina, of course, is not just Sarajevo. Wonderful nature, great food and traces of history are just day-trips from the capital.

How to get there:

There’s no direct flight between Shanghai and Sarajevo. The most convenient route is via Istanbul by Turkish Airlines. You can also transfer via other major Middle Eastern or European cities. From Sarajevo International Airport, there’s no public transportation to the city center. The 12-kilometer taxi ride to an area near Bascarsija costs about 15 convertible marka (US$7.80). Some hotels offer airport pickup services at fixed fares.

Replaying the siege of Sarajevo

• Historical Museum of BiH (Istorijski muzej)

Its permanent exhibition “Sarajevo Under Siege” traces the history of hardship during the long siege.

Address: Zmaja od Bosne 5

• War Hostel

This new hostel, run by Arijan Kurbasic, a local who survived the siege as a child, offers a genuine sense of the wartime experience.

Address: Hrvatin 21

• Tunnel of Hope (Tunel spasa)

The tunnel between the airport and city center was used to transport humanitarian aid and defense weapons during the siege — a lifeline for residents.

Address: Donji Kotorac, Tuneli 1, Ilidza