I was asked by the lovely Amanda Kendle from Not a Ballerina travel blog to contribute to a post she was writing on travel genetics and the influence our parents have on how much we travel as adults. And it got me thinking.
Growing up, we always travelled, and that’s how my love of adventure started. It was different sort of travel back then. Living on the east coast – first Melbourne and then Canberra, we were the opposite of a rich family, but that didn’t deter my parents. We were always packing up the car and going camping on weekends to different spots along the Victorian coast or south coast of NSW. We all loved it – everyone got to do what they wanted – dad spent his days fishing, usually with mum sunning herself beside him, my sister and I made friends with other kids in the caravan park and would spend our days swimming, running, playing and generally exhausting ourselves, happily. A simple dinner of fresh fish and salad was enjoyed under the stars before we snuggled into our sleeping bags and slept soundly in our tents.
It wasn’t until I was 24 that I ventured overseas – straight to London and pretty much straight onto a Contiki tour with my sister and four friends. Now I’m in my (very early) forties and travel is very much a part of my DNA. I don’t want to go travelling, I need to go travelling. My husband enjoys travelling too but doesn’t quite understand that travel is my mental medicine. I need to know that next adventure is around the corner, that the next trip is booked or I start climbing the walls.
These days, I enjoy the freedom of travelling to far flung places with my intrepid parents, who incidentally joined the “SKIN” club (Spend Kid’s Inheritance Now) several years ago. We’ve met up in Rome, twice, in Lima (Peru), holidayed together in Umbria, Sicily, and Buenos Aires. There’s talk of travelling through Egypt together and going to Greece next year.
My mum must’ve been a nomad in past life because she can just travel and travel, like me. Dad however has a six-week rule. He doesn’t want to be away from home for more than six weeks at a time – he gets tired of living out of a suitcase and gets sick of airports, train travel and the general nuisance of being away from his creature comforts. Perhaps I’ll feel that way when I’m in my mid-60s? Nah, probably not.
Mum and Dad’s spirit for adventure and the sense of independence they instilled in me as a child has definitely has a major impact on my love for travel. Our Italian heritage has also been a factor – more so with me than with my sister, Susie. Susie doesn’t have the same strong pull to Italy that I do. Neither does Dad actually, and Dad was born there. Mum and I however feel at home, a feeling of being at peace, when we are in Italy. Everything makes sense. It just feels right, and it feels good. Every time I fly out of Italy, I cry as I look out the plane window. I can’t help it, my soul belongs there. But my heart most definitely belongs in Australia too, the most fortunate and wonderful country that I proudly call home.
Reading Amanda’s post on Not a Ballerina about travel genetics, it seems that some travel bloggers discovered their love of travel on their own, that their parents didn’t influence their love of travel.
Did your parents influence your love of travel and adventure? Or was that something you discovered on your own?