I should be leaving Hungary tomorrow. I am going on to Serbia, on to a land that I have never been to before. I am excited.
There is no excitement quite like the prospect of crossing a border, the prospect of walking in a place that you have never prior placed a foot or breathed the air. This is a simple excitement, true, but it is an excitement that I live for.
I know of few better feelings than taking those first quick paced steps in a new country. I love the feeling of walking away from an immigration post and onto a new frontier, looking up at a sign that says “Welcome to wherever” in some odd language. This means that travel is going as planned.
You cannot be a traveler without going to new places. You cannot be a traveler without crossing borders. I hate the crossing international frontiers: I hate having my bags rustled through, answering questions from stern faced immigration officers, and having my passport fondled, dare I say, molested. But I do love it when I make it to the other side.
Walking into a new country is pure love. Crossing an artificial dividing line into a new land is to smash the idea of frontiers, borders, and nationalism. To look upon a new horizon, to chase a new horizon, is the joy of traveling.
To Serbia tomorrow.