The usual tales of falling in love with wine - En Primeur adventures in Bordeaux, romantic Tuscan vineyards, or picturesque harvests in Rioja - are not part of my story. My passion for wine began in Sarajevo, a place where enthusiasm for rare vintages can easily raise eyebrows. If you’re wondering why, let’s rewind the clock by a decade or so and dive into the unconventional journey that led me here.

My parents opened a wine shop in 2009, the year I turned 19. At the time, my relationship with wine could be described as non-existent - unless you count the cheap boxed stuff I guzzled at music festivals or during late-night guitar sessions in the park. These were often led by that one friend who’d belt out Oasis covers to impress the ladies. My first encounter with wine wasn’t what you’d call romantic, but it turned out to be transformative. That path wasn’t clear from the start, though. Like most parents, mine wanted me to follow a "stable" career - become a teacher, a doctor, or something equally respectable (i.e. something that would make a living). But they were so horrified by my beverage choices as a teenager that they took a different approach. They decided it was time for an intervention.

I’ll never forget my dad’s words one afternoon as I begrudgingly cleaned bottles in the shop: “I’ve been drinking wine since I was 25. I’ve got this shop now. How about you stop with the boxed stuff and get into the real deal?” Coming from a man who had climbed the ranks in the Canadian restaurant industry as a war immigrant, starting as a busboy and eventually managing a fine-dining establishment, his advice carried weight. After returning to Sarajevo in 2001, he and my mum launched one of the country’s first wine import businesses and eventually opened Divina, their wine shop, in 2009. But Divina wasn’t just a store - it became a hub for tastings, workshops, and education, long before "wine culture" was even a thing in Sarajevo. Their passion, vision, and relentless work ethic were impossible to ignore.

But let’s be honest: at the time, I didn’t share their enthusiasm. I was deep into my English Language and Literature studies, dreaming of becoming a university professor. While my friends soaked up the spring sunshine in cafés, I was stuck in that tiny shop, polishing bottles with labels I couldn’t even pronounce. I hated it. My parents insisted it was better to work for them than for someone else who might not value my time or effort. Almost a decade later, I see what they meant, but back then, it felt like a prison sentence. Still, my curiosity got the better of me. Books like The World Atlas of Wine and The Wine Bible were lying around the shop, so I started flipping through them. What began as casual reading turned into a fascination. My dad noticed and decided it was time to take things up a notch.

One evening, he organized a tasting for just the two of us. The theme was Gems of Tuscany. We started with Chianti, moved through Rosso di Montalcino and Vino Nobile, and finished with a Brunello. For the first time, wine stopped being just a drink. It became a puzzle, a story, a revelation. Each sip was an education in terroir, history, and craftsmanship. That night, I was hooked. How could something made from grapes be so intricate, so layered, and so alive?

My dreams of academia soon gave way to vinous ambition. While finishing my degree, I enrolled in WSET courses in Zagreb, completing Levels 2 and 3 in quick succession. My friends thought I’d lost the plot. “What are you going to do with wine in Sarajevo?” they joked. “An alcoholic with a degree!” But the jokes only motivated me. I pushed harder, signing up for the WSET Diploma in Rust, Austria. Rust was a revelation. Surrounded by passionate students and industry legends, I began to see wine as a global language, one that transcended borders and connected people in extraordinary ways.

In 2017, I took a leap and moved to Singapore to work as head sommelier at a New Zealand steakhouse. The move was not just about the job - it was about immersing myself in a dynamic, fast-growing wine culture. By day, I built wine programs and introduced guests to new vintages; by night, I explored wine bars and trained my palate. Sundays were reserved for blind tastings, where I met sommeliers, winemakers, and enthusiasts who pushed me to learn more. Singapore was a crash course in adaptability and curiosity. Every person I met had tasted something I hadn’t, traveled somewhere I hadn’t been, or knew a technique I’d never heard of. I thrived in that environment of constant growth.

Looking back, it’s funny how things turn out. The road from Sarajevo to Singapore wasn’t paved with easy choices. It was filled with doubt, scepticism, and plenty of question marks. But those challenges made the journey all the more rewarding. Today, I see wine as the ultimate adventure - a blend of history, art, and science that never stops evolving. It’s the Chianti that started it all, the people who’ve shaped my path, and the lessons learned along the way. Every bottle tells a story, and every story reminds me why I fell in love with wine in the first place.

Thanks, Stana & Jasna, for showing me the way. You bloody legends.