Trekking in the rain through Myanmar -- tiny rocks piercing my feet, my face down against the incessant onslaught of beads of water hitting my face, my pants, shoes and jacket thoroughly soaked -- I daydreamed of my cozy, warm apartment in back home in San Francisco. To get my mind off the pain, I cycled through the recipes I'd make when I got home. As I mentally listed things I'd bake (moussaka, blueberry crumb bars, a meat pie) it occured to me that not too far in the future, I'd probably be standing in my kitchen next to the hot oven, gazing out the window at the foggy bay, waiting for the timer to chime, dreaming of trekking in Myanmar in the rain. 

The grass is always greener, isn't it? The more I'm on this trip, the more this reality continues to rise up everyday. I'm starting to accept it's just a fact of life: there is always always something better, a better hotel room, a cooler travel destination, a more impressive job.