YOU'VE been everywhere," marvelled the wide-eyed young woman dispensing popcorn outside my bank one Saturday morning in late summer. "Have you ever seen the Bermuda Triangle?"

Taken aback, I counter-questioned: "The Bermuda Triangle?"

"Yes, you know . . . When you go to Bermuda and have to cross it to get there . . . Can you be sucked into its vortex?"

Could this be for real? Did she actually mean it? Further questioning revealed she was deadly serious as she pursued the subject. "What about all those ships and planes that disappear there?"

My brother Jim and I stood there, determined not to look at each other for fear we might start to laugh uncontrollably.

As we tried to clear up her misconceptions, she gave us a doubting look that showed she definitely didn't believe us.

"What about that Earhart plane that disappeared?" she argued, to prove her point. Can you believe it!

"Amelia Earhart went missing in the South Pacific, not the Atlantic. I've been at the airport in Lei, New Guinea where she was last seen." But of course, with that answer I was assuming she knew where New Guinea was.

Amazing as it sounds, she wasn't the only one with images of a churning, voracious, whirlpool-like vortex in mid-ocean attempting to entrap unsuspecting travellers en route to Bermuda. The young woman working with her was in total agreement. They both seemed convinced it was a conspiracy kept from unsuspecting passengers on ships and planes.

This bank was one of the first in a new trend-setting, immensely popular local movement catering to personalised service. Its setting and decor is English-country-house and it's unique. During summer special events are featured for founders and clients . . . quite elaborate barbecue picnics, sundaes and so on. This was popcorn Saturday.

I asked the vice-president who those girls were and what they did . . . not revealing their question which was worthy of a Jay Leno Jay-walking sequence.

Turns out they were student children of bank employees well paid for this part-time Saturday summer work. Obviously they'd been told by someone who we were and how much we travelled.

There was definitely no question they were very personable. If they were attending the local high school (often ranked first or second in the entire US) the annual expenditure on their education is $25,000 to $27,000 per student.

As a taxpayer, I'm all too aware of the cost, financed by staggering real estate land taxes often higher than the annual income of many people.

It's hard not to roll my eyes skyward in envy when I hear Bermudians discuss land taxes. For example, on a half acre of vacant property populated with nothing but dense woodland, we pay $9,000 in annual real estate property taxes.

A simple wood sign designates it as a memorial nature preserve in our parents' name. Last year the county tax assessor attempted to raise that annual tax bill to $23,000, after we had fought it down from $13,000.

You can't imagine what property taxes are on developed land with a house or business. Just thinking about our real estate land tax bills is enough to induce cardiac arrest. But apparently geography is not among courses offered at the so-called premier school financed by those chilling taxes.

You've probably read or heard about the abysmal state of the average American student when it comes to geographical knowledge. It's sadly true and unfortunately they're not alone. Although you shouldn't make generalisations, you do encounter it everywhere.

In France, a well-travelled countess we know well and who speaks fluent English simply had no idea what we were talking about when we mentioned an upcoming trip to Scotland.

"What is Scotland? Where is it? I don't know it." Until we mentioned "Grand Bretagne" she was totally clueless.

One keeps hearing that not only young Americans are depressingly lacking in geographical knowledge, but that it seems to be a worldwide epidemic.

SAD to say, that fact proved all too true when I called British Airways to check on connections from Bermuda to London, then on to Cornwall, subject of a series several weeks ago. I wanted to be able to provide readers with that information.

"Cornwall?" asked a puzzled reservationist. "Is that in Canada?" Like someone was going to fly from Bermuda to London and then immediately connect to Canada.

Attempting to provide some helpful clues, I asked: "Do you have a route map? Leave London and head for the farthest southwestern corner. There's Land's End, Falmouth, Truro, Penzance and just to the east is Plymouth, the place where settlers sailed for America."

Silence. Had the line gone dead?

"Are you British?" I asked. "No, I'm American."

Thanking her, I politely ended the conversation and redialled. The second call was almost a replay of the first one. This reservationist had never heard of Cornwall either, had absolutely no idea what I was talking about and suggested taking a train.

Again I was asked: "Is it in Canada?" I have no idea what her computer is showing, but find it too discouraging to continue.

What's happened to this most exciting of all subjects . . . geography? From the moment that first geography book was opened in grammar school, for me it was like receiving the world on a golden tray.

It was pored over and X-rayed from cover to cover, its maps examined with the excitement of Vasco da Gama sailing off from Portugal or Amundsen, Scott and Shackleton routing their way on polar expeditions. This was truly heady, exciting stuff and students received extra credit for drawing maps.

I churned them out with such speed it was like an assembly line. Imagine being rewarded scholastically for something that was so much fun. It was like being paid to eat a second icecream cone.

Classrooms were hung with intriguing, wall-size, layered maps that unfolded by hemispheres. There was always a large one hung in our solarium at home and a big blank blackboard where brother Jim and I delighted in drawing in the states.

Early on we were given globes which we still treasure and one sits in our office, well used as we turn it to check locations of far-flung newsmakers.

TODAY some of our local primary schools have large maps of the US painted onto the asphalt of their playgrounds and students can walk across them, mentally filling in the blank identity of the 50 states. The same idea would work well anywhere in any country.

As the world grows ever smaller and far distant events impact our lives, a knowledge of geography becomes ever more important. There are some jobs where international business makes it absolutely essential.

Perhaps a fascination with far corners of the world is in the genes. That sense of wanderlust and desire to learn about distant places. A good teacher who recognises that interest can certainly encourage it as both my parents and teachers did when they recognised my interest in that most exciting of studies.

Poring over an atlas of maps brings the world to your doorstep and inspires the desire to visit it first hand. Combined with a good history book, the right travel magazines and guide books, it becomes a magic carpet.

My glass-topped home study desk had a map of the Himalayas with a dazzling view of Mount Everest to distract me at homework time. By the time I was a prep school sophomore, altitude of every major Himalayan peak was embedded in memory.

Reading about Mallory's famed mountain climbing adventures there far superseded interest in celebrities of my youth. When asked why he climbed peaks, his response "because they were there", should perhaps also be our reason for learning about the world.

Our family doctor adopted a baby from Guatemala who is now almost six. A floor-to-ceiling map decorates one of her bedroom walls. He has introduced her to educational programmes, actually electronic geography games, showing her the world and she delights in it. Taken on vacation to many exciting places, she's already years ahead of children twice her age.

Incredibly one keeps hearing about modern students who not only don't know the capital of their own state, district or province, but have no idea about the rest of the world. With the holiday season on the horizon, this may be a good time to make a move towards bringing the world to their doorstep.

Ever consider investing in a wall-sized world map, globe or world atlas . . . or all of the above? How can anyone live without them!

When the prep school I attended was adapted for university use, we bought a fabulous collection of very detailed, roll-down classroom maps showing the world as it is now, also as it used to be. Whenever something happens in a little-known corner of the world, Jim pulls that section down with a long wooden pole just like teachers did in the classroom.

Another recent estate sale was the source of a very collectible government map from 1938 printed on heavy linen by the US Department of Interior General Land Office signed by Harold Ickes, Secretary, who lived in our area.

Seven by six feet, it outlines all "parks, monuments, Indian, military and game reservations" as well as land annexations, railroads and canals in North America. It's very dramatic.

Travel and geography were inspirations for the column Jim and I continue to write about films made on interesting locations around the world. The scenery is every bit as much a star as celebrities seen on screen. Our intent is let readers know where that location really is . . . what part of the world are they seeing in wide-screen Technicolor and would they like to see it close up and personal on a future trip?

Perhaps Rudyard Kipling was right when he wrote: "East is East and West is West and never the twain shall meet." But did he realise an increasing number of people don't exactly know where east and west are actually located?