Anticipation.

Half of the excitement of any foray into the world - at least to me - is having no clue what will happen when the journey begins. Will my luggage get lost? Will I be able to sleep on the plane? Will I sit beside some dark and handsome foreign man with a charming accent and be the annoying duo on the plane who won't shut-up? Or as often my issue, did I pack enough books to read and things to do to keep my mind occupied for 10 hours as I NEVER sit beside anyone remotely handsome, charming or intriguing, and quite often those that haven't bathed in three days, don't speak a lick of English or snore extra-loudly come barreling my way when their zone is called.

Regardless of a good or bad outcome, you never know how it will turn out prior to boarding, prior to landing, and prior to the journey. So in order to experience any of you, you must go. You must explore. You must live.

Its the anticipation of what may happen, what you may see or do, the food you may eat, the wine you may drink, the experiences you may have that make the whole idea of a journey worthwhile.

As the days ticked down to departure, the anticipation for this journey was building more than ever. This was my first solo experience in 2011. This was journey that more or less cobbled itself two months prior, and no matter any questions I had about going seemed to call me in such a way, I knew I had to go; the question was why?

Not one to ignore my intuition, I was going. The hotels were booked. My Eurail pass was in hand. My suitcase was packed (with enough books to keep me occupied), I was set.

So here I go. Rome. Milan. Munich. Vienna. Prague. Cologne. Brussels. What would I find as I explored each of these places? All part of the joy of traveling. In 24-hours it would be time to find out.