My very first time in this country, five days in the middle of July, I traveled with my friend Henry Bisharat. He sure made things easy, as a world traveler himself it came naturally to him to organize everything, even more natural for him was to go on to start a travel company, I recommend you put your life in his hands at www.worldtravelerhelp.com

In 1903, after a strange and orphan-like existence, my grandfather HRH Prince Paul of Serbia arrived in this country aged 10 years old. One of his first impressions was the sight of the massacred previous ruling family, blood and bodies putrefying in the fortress courtyard. My introduction to this country was far gentler, quite the contrast. When I think about him I cry for him and his absurdly complicated life. But what I always knew was his love for this country and its people. And I have to agree with him even if I cannot exactly explain why.

Today my life feels acutely clear and joyously vague all at once. I am certain about visiting this foreign country where maybe for the first time in my life I am not a foreigner. Yet I know nearly nothing and can scarcely communicate. But I have so many friends here, who I have yet to meet, I only know them from the ethers of the Internet.

One of my absolute priorities was to meet Milos Mitrovic, Serbia’s greatest living poet, with whom I’ve been Internet friends for years. Unluckily for me he was out of town my first trip, which was short and planned at the last minute. He was not only out of town he was off the grid. I didn’t hear from him until I was back in the States. We were both distressed to discover Murphy’s Law had prevailed and kept us apart, except I had no doubt I was returning, even if I didn’t know when, it was inevitable.

I’ve traveled the earth oftentimes alone, on purpose, to get far away from everyone and anything I had ever known. I chose destinations where I could get lost in anonymity and be fairly certain of not running into anyone familiar.

This trip I’m traveling by myself except I don’t feel remotely alone, and again, maybe for the first time in my life, I feel I am headed somewhere instead of running from someplace.

Last night I had the great honor and pleasure of meeting my friend Milos Mitrovic in real life. We walked around the busy night streets and toured a museum of modern Balkan art. Unsurprisingly Milos is as clever and funny and original as his gorgeous poems which I adore. I strongly recommend a visit at www.milosmitrovic.com