Wandering heart

That sometimes has been my problem.
Specially when I am in some other country. Other place.
I am there and I cannot completely be there.
13 days into this trip, I am already missing my food, my people, my friends.
Its like parts of me are missing.
And they show up at random street corners here, during my daily run in the cemetery, while nibbling on takeout chinese food.
I like my independence of checking in and out of hotels at any time and ability to drive around on whims. I do like this country.
But inside me remains a deep craving for the known and familiar. 
Every unknown adventure here feels empty and forced.
The land of opportunities feels like a land wasted on me.
My 'abandonment anxiety'* type personality wakes up at ungodly hours to check my phone, to look outside if its sunrise yet.
When I am here, my heart wanders to a place I have come to call home. 
Though I argue with the security guards there all the time.
Back in Aundh. 

* A term I learnt recently from a beloved writer. And which I think suits me too well.