Today I miss the mountains.

Today I miss waking up early, feeling the chill of the air and remembering that I am in Venezuela. I miss pulling on a sweatshirt and walking to the open window to gaze at the mountains, just to reassure myself that I'm really here.

It was like this in Uganda, too. But instead of waking up to crisp, mountain air, I woke up to tropical air. I remember the air being thick and heavy, and smelling of sun-warmed earth and spices.

I think one of my favorite things about traveling was the rush I got when I woke up and remembered that I was somewhere unfamiliar. It's exhilarating - and somehow always caught me by surprise.

It's so different from that other familiar and pleasant feeling - the one you get when you wake up in the place where you feel most at home. It's the feeling you get when you stay over at your parents' house and wake up in the morning wrapped in your favorite soft comforter to the smell of breakfast and coffee.

My theory is, if you go too long without one of those feelings, you start to crave it. For example, when I was abroad in Venezuela, I embraced the rush of excitement that overcame me every morning as I woke up. But then, as I neared the end of my trip I began to crave the comfortable and familiar feeling of waking up in my own bed, close to people I knew and loved, where I could brew my own coffee and drink it out of my favorite coffee cup.

However, now that I've been enjoying that comfort for over seven months now, I'm ready to go abroad again. Where, you ask? At the moment, my list looks a little something like this:

1. Italy
2. Spain
3. Greece
4. India
5. Indonesia
6. Argentina

Lofty, I know. This travel bug is BAD.