It all started when I was 15 years old, in 10th form, sitting in a quiet classroom and daydreaming far beyond the schoolyard walls. While my classmates focused on lessons, I was flipping through a well-worn magazine—my only real window to the outside world at the time. TV era didn’t exist in those times, and I hadn’t grown up watching cartoons or Disney movies. But those glossy magazine pages? They were everything.
And that’s how I first fell in love with the USA.
Even without moving pictures or big-screen dreams, America felt alive to me—through the photos of towering New York skyscrapers, the endless highways stretching through California, and the smiling faces of people in places I couldn’t yet pronounce. I hadn’t heard of Disney World growing up, and it wasn’t part of my childhood fantasies. My version of America was shaped entirely by still images and pure imagination. It became my first dream country—the one I longed for without really knowing why.
As the years passed, so did the pages of my mental atlas. My dreams grew, and new countries began to take their place on the list but never fulfilled my dream of visiting America.
The UK was next. I was drawn to its quiet charm and timeless atmosphere. I imagined myself wandering the foggy streets of Edinburgh, popping into old bookshops in London, or sipping tea in a cozy café while the snow tapped gently on the windows. The UK felt like stepping into a classic novel, full of cobblestone streets, ancient castles, and stories that had been whispered through centuries.
Then came Australia.
I fell in love with the idea of wide-open spaces, stunning beaches, and a relaxed way of life. I wanted to dive into the Great Barrier Reef, feel the sun on my face in the vast Outback, and walk along golden coastlines where the horizon stretches endlessly. But more than anything, I longed to see kangaroos—especially the little ones nestled safely inside their mother’s pouch. That image stuck with me, almost like a symbol of nature’s wonder. And I was just as fascinated by ostriches, those towering, odd-looking birds with curious eyes and swift legs. I imagined standing in a wildlife sanctuary, surrounded by creatures I had only read about, feeling completely in awe of the wild beauty of it all. Australia felt like the kind of place where I could disconnect from the noise of everyday life and reconnect with something honest and grounding.
And then there was Japan.
If the USA sparked my imagination and the UK stirred my love for history, Japan pulled me in with its contrasts. Ancient traditions set against a futuristic backdrop, peaceful shrines hidden among modern skyscrapers, cherry blossoms blooming in the shadow of bullet trains. I wanted to walk through the quiet temples of Kyoto, eat ramen in a tiny alleyway, get lost in the neon chaos of Tokyo, and witness the poetic rhythm of a culture that seemed to flow between old and new with grace.
These four countries—USA, UK, Australia, and Japan—have become more than just names on a list. Each represents a part of who I was, and who I’m still becoming. But only the USA lived in my heart at age 15, seen not through a screen, but through still images and silent dreams. The others joined the journey as I grew, as my world expanded, and as my sense of wonder deepened.
I haven’t visited them yet. But someday, I hope I will.
Because some dreams don’t fade.
They wait quietly, patiently—until you’re ready to chase them.
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