I find myself currently in a perpetual state of disassociation from my feelings towards my impending travels. Nervousness, excitement, joy and disquiet cease to carry meaning when I have no basis to pin these feelings upon.
By this I mean that the future experience I am to embark upon is as of now merely that, a future state that I have not yet had contact with. Any feelings I may have are then only in relation to a mental idea of that particular place or thing.
An idea of travel, of a city, of a people which I know only through vague adjectives and the nature of their countries past. That there is present in me the knowledge of a past state of war and strife within this newly minted nation, I cannot help but garner empathetic but perhaps wholly naive images of a particular strength of character that this country must hold.
I imagine those walking the streets carrying with them the physical and mental scars of conflict. I imagine the youth upon whose shoulders the reinvigoration of their homeland now rests. I see a collective which finds itself in the burgeoning period of something beyond themselves, a period of growth which will determine for generations the path upon which their country must walk.
This synthetic model born of an almost childlike propagation carries with it the need to devise broad narrativization of things unknown to us in their details. Though I recognize this creation and sustained development of werternized narrative, I have as of yet no other image to adhere to. I have only the awareness of my accounts innate bias and the hope that it will be brought to task and supplanted by a more whole, fruitful realization of this place and people in the course of my stay. And so I stave off my feelings of expectation towards my trip, because I know that no mere idea can be equated to reality.