Some thoughts on Serbia.
Like many in Western Europe I guess, the name Serbia for me conjured up images of Milošević and the war crimes committed by the ethnic Serbs under his control during the Yugoslav wars of the 90's.
I was a little apprehensive about what I'd find there and the bullet riddled van on the motorway outside Belgrade didn't exactly dispel any prejudices.
But without exception every single Serb I met was beyond lovely. They are some of the warmest and most welcoming humans I've ever met.
Spending the night in Vranje a small town 25km north of the Macedonian border I met Nikola, his father and some of his mates, and Boris the Frenchman who'd been living in Serbia for a year and vowed never to return to France. All these guys I now count as friends.
The aftermath of the war is still everywhere. From the absolute poverty to the abandoned crumbling buildings that there's no one left to rebuild.
There's no doubt Milošević got people to do horrendous things. Just like Hitler did. But that's not what I found in this country and I can't wait to return.