Marko Radić, former Director of the Trebinje Tourist Organization and current Head of the Tourism Promotion Department at the Tourist Organization of Republika Srpska, frequently shares his views on domestic tourism through his blog and social media channels.
In recent days, Radić published a compelling author’s text on his blog titled “Višegrad, Between Stone and Words”, written while working on the Tourism Development Strategy of the Municipality of Višegrad.
In the
text, Radić reflects on the deeper meaning of destination branding, emphasizing
that Višegrad cannot be reduced to numbers, capacities, and infrastructure
alone.
“Višegrad
has weight. Višegrad is anything but ordinary,” Radić writes, explaining that
strategic tourism planning inevitably leads beyond statistics and into the
realm of emotion, memory, and identity.
Revisiting
Ivo Andrić’s novel “The Bridge on the Drina” for the first time since high
school, Radić notes that the Nobel laureate unintentionally authored the most
important branding guide Višegrad could ever have. What was once an obligation
for students, he now reads as a tourism professional, understanding that a
destination must also be an emotion.
According
to Radić, the Mehmed Paša Sokolović Bridge is far more than a photogenic
landmark. It is a symbol of endurance, a testament to how one individual’s
creation can outlive politics, borders, and time. Its UNESCO World Heritage
status, which is approaching two decades, represents not only recognition, but
also responsibility — an obligation to convey stories of encounters, suffering,
hope, and continuity.
Radić also points out that Višegrad’s greatest strength lies in its universal story, amplified by the fact that the region produced a Nobel Prize winner. Andrić, he argues, translated the complex local history of the Drina region into a language the world can understand.
“When
foreigners arrive in Višegrad, they seek to feel the universality of a small
place and a great story,” Radić writes, describing this as the essence of
modern tourism storytelling. He emphasizes that Andrić left behind a “gold
mine” of narratives, waiting to be presented in a way today’s visitors can
connect with.
Walking
through Višegrad, Radić observes layers of history that may appear conflicting,
but together form a complete tourism offer — from Andrić’s modest childhood
home and classroom, to the emerald-green Drina River, and finally Andrićgrad,
the vision of filmmaker Emir Kusturica. While critics often argue that
Andrićgrad commercializes myth, visitors, Radić notes, find experience and
content.
“Višegrad
will not comfort you with a simple story,” he concludes. “It offers the bridge
as authenticity and Andrićgrad as content. This fusion of old and new, silence
and vibrancy, is what makes the destination alive.”
Radić
stresses that tourism should not sell sterile beauty, but authenticity, depth,
and emotion. A tourism strategy, he argues, cannot focus solely on beds and
roads — it must return to understanding.
The
true task, Radić writes, is to bring visitors to the bridge not for a selfie,
but so they can feel what Andrić once described as “life being an
incomprehensible miracle that constantly fades and disperses, yet endures and
stands firm, like the bridge on the Drina.”
“That,”
Radić concludes, “is the value Višegrad has. And that is the value we must
offer to the world we wish to welcome.”