From Velky Grob, I marched 15 miles down trash-strewn roads and across desolate farmland, my shoes caked with mud, arriving in Sered, a gray town I instantly hated.

All I remember is being buffeted by gusts from across the plains, and then crossing a tiny stream into Velky Grob, a village of neat postwar homes with tiled facades and backyard grapevines.