As a child, I was obsessed (and still am) with geography. I had a computer game on a disc that came for free on a box of Kellogg’s cereals. The game was a world encyclopaedia, with mini quests to iconic locations, from Cairo and Machu Picchu. I played it obsessively and felt connected to these places that I’d never been. As I grew and learnt how to use Google Earth, I’d spend hours at a time traversing the streets of cities whose names I couldn’t pronounce, of countries I knew I’d never see for myself. 

I never had a yearning to go overseas. Google Earth was enough to satisfy my curiosity. Travelling abroad was something I just assumed would happen when there was a reason for it, aware that it was a luxury for many. I went to New Caledonia for my first international trip at 17 for a school science fair, I moved to New Zealand with my family at 19 for my Dad’s work, I went to Chile at 22 to study. I went to California once as an adult for a more typical vacation - a visit to a childhood friend in LA for two weeks. All of these experiences were a privilege, ones that informed and enriched my life both personally and professionally. I’ve been told that I’m well travelled, though I’m not sure that I agree. 

The year I turned nine, my Dad had long service leave. Having worked in the public service for over a decade he was entitled to a paid year off  (an Australian privilege). My Mum quit her job and pulled me and my siblings out of school, we bought a caravan, and embarked on a near 12-month journey driving around Australia, spending four months on the west coast alone then settling in country Victoria later in the year for a semester at a local school. 

It was this experience, despite taking place in my home country, that taught me more about the world than any time I’ve spent overseas. You can’t understand the world if you don’t understand where you come from. Long drives across the Nullabor and days by the sea taught me things about this country that I never learnt in school. About the traditional owners and their history, the diversity of terrain, the animals that call it home too. The way that the rest of the world sees us, the young European backpackers we met on the route, the families we connected with from all around the globe, the grey nomads from the UK that adopted my siblings and me for a night and fed us fish that they caught earlier that morning. 

Connection to place is the idea that people have a bond to the place they are from. It is an emotional connection that gives a sense of belonging, in turn forming our identity. There is a line I love from Haruki Murakami’s Kafka on the Shore (2002) which sums it up so perfectly: “People are by and large a product of where they were born and raised. How you think and feel’s always linked to the lie of the land, the temperature”. 

This trip around Australia showed me where I am from, even if my hometown in the South is nothing like the tropical forests in the North-East, even though there are no Bungle Bungles or desert oases where I was raised. By understanding my country - this nationality which I did not choose, but was born into - I learnt how to better connect with the world around me. When people say I am well travelled, they typically aren’t aware that I had this experience, and are referring to my time living overseas. But without this trip I wouldn’t have gone to New Zealand or Chile - my mind would not be so open, I would not be so accustomed to discomfort (my Dad taught us to embrace long-drops and spiders and dusty showers and dingoes howling), would not be so willing to talk to those not like myself, to embrace the culture of others. 

Of course, there is so much to say about connection to place: how it shapes us and builds nations and makes people patriotic, but I argue here that without connection to place travel means nothing. You can traverse the world and lay eyes on every beautiful site but what good is it if you do not see the beauty in where you come from? It is that place that raised you, that defined you: its weather, the lay of its land, its food and its music. You are not bound to these things forever but you are the product of them in many ways. An online friend from Scotland once wrote to me: 

“I love myself, so naturally, I love the country that birthed me, formed me and made me the person I am today. Everyone should love their country for that reason alone, as imperfect as it may be. It made you, that alone makes it pretty decent”.  

Being well travelled is a privilege and one that is not afforded to many. But regardless of where you’ve been, you come from somewhere. You don’t need to travel a certain number of countries to be open-minded or a well-rounded citizen. It's more valuable to step foot in your own backyard (as Australians love to say), get to know the people around you, and understand the history of the place that made you who you are. In this globalised, digitalised world we live in, you can be well travelled without ever going overseas. The world is right there at your fingertips. It doesn’t need to be seen to be believed. 

PS - thank you to my parents for doing something so few chose to do and seeing Australia first, homeschooling us in the back of a station wagon, and teaching us to always pay attention to the world around us.