After studying abroad my junior year of college, I realized my life of traveling had only just begun. It was the first time I had left North America and, with the exception of Canada, the first time I had left the United States. “I wish I could have kept going”, I would tell people upon my return home. After seeing the beauties of Italy, I wanted to see what else the world had to offer.

I quickly realized I had been the next victim in a long string of travel-infected relatives. “Uh, oh”, my cousin said. “You caught it. You caught the travel bug.” My brain had become contaminated with an obsessive desire to see the world, and this disease has followed me ever since.