National Museum of Bosnia and Herzegovina

Listen for a moment. Behind you, trams rattle along one of Sarajevo's widest roads. In front of you, the noise drops away. There is gravel, the shade of old trees, and pale stone walls that hold the afternoon light. This is the National Museum of Bosnia and Herzegovina. For more than a century, it has kept the memory of a country that has often had to fight to keep anything at all.

The museum is older than its building. It was founded in 1888, when Bosnia and Herzegovina was under Austro-Hungarian administration. The empire had taken control of the region from the Ottomans only a decade earlier. The new rulers wanted to study and catalogue the land they now governed. They also wanted to present it to Europe. The result was one of the first modern scholarly institutions in the Balkans, collecting everything from Roman coins to beetles.

The complex you see today opened in 1913, just one year before the First World War began in this very city. It was designed by Karel Pařík, a Czech architect who shaped much of Austro-Hungarian Sarajevo. His plan is simple and elegant. Four separate pavilions stand around a square courtyard. Each pavilion was meant for a different field of study. Together they form a small campus of knowledge, built in a calm, classical style.

That courtyard is not just empty space. It holds a botanical garden, planted when the museum opened. Paths cross between beds of native plants, shrubs and mature trees. In spring and early summer, the garden fills with green and the smell of damp earth. Many visitors rush past it on their way to the galleries. Take a few minutes here. It is one of the quietest places in central Sarajevo.

Now, the first surprise. Scattered through the garden are heavy, carved blocks of stone. Some look like small houses. Others look like simple slabs or tall upright markers. These are stećci, medieval tombstones from Bosnia and the surrounding region. Their carvings show hunters, dancers, spirals, crescents and raised hands. Nobody fully agrees on the meaning of every symbol. The stećci are now recognised by UNESCO as world heritage, and here you can walk right up to them.

Inside, the collections follow the old scholarly plan. One section covers archaeology, from prehistoric finds through the Roman period and the Middle Ages. Another covers ethnology, the everyday life of the people of this land. You will see traditional clothing, carpets, metalwork, and reconstructed rooms of Bosnian houses. A third section covers natural history, with minerals, insects, birds and animals. The museum also keeps a large scholarly library, which is not usually part of a casual visit.

The ethnology rooms are worth slowing down for. Bosnia sits where Ottoman, Central European and Mediterranean worlds meet. You can see that meeting in small objects. Look at the copper coffee pots, the low wooden furniture, the embroidered textiles. Notice how Muslim, Orthodox, Catholic and Jewish households shared many of the same crafts. The labels describe a region, but the objects describe neighbours who lived side by side for centuries.

The most famous object in the museum is very small. It is the Sarajevo Haggadah, a Hebrew manuscript used during the Jewish festival of Passover. It was made in the fourteenth century, in the Iberian Peninsula, most likely in Catalonia. Its pages carry painted scenes and bright gold leaf. Medieval Jewish manuscripts with this kind of illustration are rare. That alone makes it precious. But its journey makes it extraordinary.

When Jews were expelled from Spain in 1492, many families carried their books with them into exile. The Haggadah travelled across the Mediterranean world for centuries. Wine stains on some pages are thought to come from Passover meals. Eventually it reached Sarajevo. The museum acquired it in 1894. From then on, this city, so far from Spain, became its home.

Here comes the second surprise. During the Second World War, Sarajevo was occupied by forces allied with Nazi Germany. The manuscript was in danger. Derviš Korkut, a Muslim scholar who worked at the museum, helped hide it. According to the most common account, it was kept safe outside the city, possibly in a mosque or a village home. The exact details vary in the telling. What is certain is that the book survived because people of different faiths protected it.

The museum faced danger again in the 1990s. During the siege of Sarajevo, from 1992 to 1995, this road became known as Sniper Alley. The museum stood close to the front line. Its buildings were hit by shells, and windows were blown out. Staff kept working, often in cold and dark rooms, moving collections to safer places. The Haggadah was reportedly kept in a bank vault during the war. Once again, people chose to protect the past while their own lives were at risk.

Peace did not end the struggle. After the war, the country's complex political system left the museum without clear responsibility for funding. In 2012, the museum closed its doors. Citizens and staff protested, and some workers continued without regular pay. The museum reopened in 2015. Its survival has become a symbol for many Bosnians. It shows how culture can depend on ordinary people refusing to let it go.

So as you leave, look back at the four pavilions and the trees between them. Notice the traffic again, the trams and the tall buildings along the avenue. Not so long ago, people crossed this road running. Today you can stand here slowly, among medieval stones and old plants. Take that quiet with you as you walk back into the city.