So Long, Farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, Adieu

This is not an easy post to write, which is why I have been putting off writing it since January.  I had always vowed that, if I decided to put Hints to Lady Travellers into mothballs, I would do it cleanly, not just disappear and not post anything for five months.  Hmm.

This blog gave me a sense of purpose at a time in my life when (confronted by so many possibilities) I often felt adrift.  Documenting my travels, from London, to Cape Town, to Melbourne, and back to Dublin, helped me to make sense of the other, inner journey I was on.  Blogging about the people, the experiences, the friends I made, the nephews I gained, helped me to develop my own voice as a writer.

But while, for several years, Lady Traveller was my main role, my vocation and avocation all rolled into one, more recently the demands of my job, plus my changing circumstances (homeowner!) have conflicted with the demands of the blog.

And so I have decided to say, perhaps not goodbye completely, but goodbye for now.  I will still continue to read about lady travellers, to keep the lady traveller spirit alive in my own doings, to visit islands, to seek out strange museums - and encourage others to do the same.

I can't think of a better way to end this interlude than with these words by the Greek poet Cavafy, via The Poetry Foundation:

Ithaka

As you set out for Ithaka
hope your road is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:
you’ll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope your road is a long one.
May there be many summer mornings when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you enter harbors you’re seeing for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfume of every kind—
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to learn and go on learning from their scholars.

Keep Ithaka always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you’re destined for.
But don’t hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you’re old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.

Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you wouldn't have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.

And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you’ll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.

How Do You Say 'Glutton' in Italian?

Yes, it has occurred to me that writing about Italian food is somewhat redundant - it's not as though I were the first person to record my thoughts on the subject.  That said, I thought I would share a few food highlights and hints from my recent visit on the grounds that I always like reading about or hearing about what people eat on their travels.

Coffee
My first coffee of our stay was in Milan airport, just after baggage claim.  There I realised a couple of things. First, a cappuccino is greatly enhanced by a ciambella, a kind of lemon-scented doughnut.  Second, there is a particular protocol at Italian coffee bars.  You order and pay at one counter, then take your receipt to a second counter where the actual coffee-maker (person, not machine), reviews the receipt, marks it and then prepares your coffee.

Prima Colazione
Living in Italy, much as I like the idea, might be dangerous to my health.  My ideal breakfast is essentially coffee + cake - what Elizabeth Gilbert describes as the 'Italian speedball breakfast' in Eat, Pray, Love.  My urge to start the day with caffeine and sugar (ideally some chocolate in there too) is one I try not to indulge to often.  But when everyone else is doing it…. At the agriturismo I compromised.  I had yoghurt and fruit every morning and usually a small sample of the savoury 'special' - the mini frittatas and the small cheese pies, like Greek tiropita, were especially good.  And then I had a slice of cake and a cappuccino.  And then I ran up and down several hills, often with a small nephew on my back.

Pizza
I am a pizza purist.  No complicated toppings, please.  We discovered that my six-year-old nephew shared my exact tastes: we discovered this when his pizza arrived and my pizza arrived and he looked at his and looked at mine and then sweetly suggested I might like to swap.  (I do mean sweetly.  At six, his talent for guile is underdeveloped.)  Instead we shared, and learnt together to say 'pizza con salume crudo, per favore'.  If you like pizza with pepperoni, this is what you should say, too.

Antipasti
Yes, please.  Always.  I loved the roasted red peppers wrapped around a slightly fishy mayonnaise and the raw vegetables with bagna cauda, featuring garlic, olive oil, anchovies and a little cream, eaten fondue-style.

Pasta
The funny thing is I don't normally eat a lot of pasta.  But when it appears as one course among many - and in a relatively modest portions, not the huge vats that get served up in restaurants elsewhere - why, it seems foolish not to partake.  My favourite were tortelli (similar to ravioli) filled with pumpkin and  a hint of cinnamon and decorated with sage.

Secondi
I am still thinking about the pork loin with honey and a sauce made from slightly sour berries.  And the small, crispy potatoes cooked under the joint and flavoured with just enough rosemary.  I would never make it as a vegetarian in a world where such delicious maialino exists - nor for that matter would I survive long without potatoes.  You can take the girl out of Ireland, etc.  I see a potato, I eat it.

Dolci
Even allowing for trends in food fashions, as in everything else, I have never understood why tiramisu fell out of favour.  Sponge fingers soaked in alcohol and coffee, served with mascarpone cream and chocolate.  What's not to like?  In fact, I liked it so much that I had two helpings one night at our agriturismo.  I also have a soft spot for the kind of deconstructed baked Alaska with soft Italian meringue, amazing vanilla gelato and sponge cake we ate one lunchtime.  This may have been the same day as a tiramisu.  I may have rolled home.

In conclusion: try everything; three-dessert days are occasionally appropriate; Italians know their way around carbohydrates; always pack walking / running shoes to work off the indulgence.

Hints to Travel Writers from a Lady Traveller

A hint today from Isabella Bird, quintessential Lady Traveller and inspiration for this blog.

'I'm convinced that actual letters - merely corrected - are the most vivid and popular form of presenting one's impressions of a country.'

Miss Bird wrote this to her publisher, John Murray, and I heard it in an episode of BBC Radio 4's 'Great Lives' (which is great, check it out).  Isabella Bird's early travel books were based on letters to her sister at home, so they have that immediate, intimate style and are - for a Victorian writer - remarkably fresh and accessible.

But this line caught my attention again because it occurred to me that blogging is really a version of what she described.  I occasionally wish my descriptions were better informed or more profound, but I started writing for family and friends and my posts reflect the true, sometimes confused, sometimes inarticulate impressions I had at the time of writing.

When this posts I will be in ITALY and will return next week with tales of pasta and wine and dolci, oh my.

Five Years of Hints

Returning after a short hiatus (unannounced, sorry about that) to celebrate the fact that a) this blog turns FIVE today and b) I am STILL blogging five years in, though sometimes by the skin of my teeth and, it

has to be admitted - more sporadically than I would wish.

During the hiatus I did wonder, as I have done periodically, about whether now might be the time to pack HTLT in mothballs but, as I have also decided periodically, I would miss the blog too much.  So, I will keep blogging and I am resolved to do it at least twice a week (Tuesdays and Fridays), which I am announcing here because I firmly believe the best way to keep a resolution is to tell your friends and family about it and then you'll be forced to stick to it to avoid the nagging.

There may also be a few more posts about museums since, reader, I spend many of my waking moments thinking about them and occasionally those thoughts may spill over onto the pages of HTLT. But, you know, all Lady Travellers have had their pet topics: Lillias Campbell Davidson, for example, wrote an awful lot about bicycles …

But enough about future plans.  I have decided to mark the blog's five-year anniversary with a quick look through the archives and some of my favourite posts.

The very first post, and how this blog got its name
The Cape Town Mean Face
Byron's Boot, Chopin's Piano ... Mandela's Wheelbarrow
Cramaziness - Christmas in Zimbabwe
Taking my eldest Adorable Nephew to a museum for the first time (warning: pictures are almost unbearably sweet)
Roots and Shoots
Hike4Hunger (or that time I spent a week hiking through the Australian bush)
Autumn in Fitzroy
Learning to speak Australian 
One of the funniest travel books of all time
My epic trip on the Ghan
On why I commemorate ANZAC Day
Enchanted Isle
On retracing one's steps
The Sublime Porte

In honour of the occasion, there should be a hint, don't you think?  Say it with me now:
surely none is more excellent in itself and its results, than the power which has become the right of every woman who has the means to achieve it - of becoming her own unescorted and independent person, a lady traveller. 

Camera Actress, Meet Lady Traveller

One Lady Traveller meets another: this is me in the library of the wonderful museum and archive at Morija, Lesotho - and the book is 'A Camera Actress in the Wilds of Togoland' by Meg Gehrts, first published in 1915.  Oh yes.  I did resist the urge to run off with the book (not least because there were witnesses) plus I discovered that you could find it on Project Gutenberg.

In honour of Miss Gehrts I present you with a useful hint for travelling in the wilds of Lesotho: never, never, never travel in warm countries without mosquito repellent and anti-histamines.  Lesotho is not a malarial area (say that ten times fast) but my little sister and I proved to be a rare delicacy for the local mosquito population.  Despite our best efforts in swathing ourselves in layers of clothes, dousing our clothes with citronella and wielding the local, industrial strength bug spray, we were both bitten everywhere.  I spent my flight home enduring that unique form of torture known as 'scratch and be damned': is a moment's relief worth even worse itching than before?

I could have used a good book on that flight, to take my mind of the itching.  Especially one that starts off like this:
In the beginning, when I first went out to West Africa, it had never entered into my head for a single instant that my experiences there might form the subject of a book. But I fell into the habit of keeping a diary of my journeyings, and afterwards many of my friends, as also other people in a position to judge, seemed to think it almost a pity that the adventures and impressions of the first white woman to travel through Togoland from the sea to the northern border and back again, should go unrecorded. 

Miss Gehrts and I lead very different lives, but it's true that we are united by our habit of keeping a diary of our journeyings.  

Hammam Hints

The first hint is - you should absolutely, definitely, unequivocally visit a hammam if you're in Istanbul.  We chose the Cagaloglu Hamami which apparently is one of the '1000 Places to See Before You Die'.  (I know this because there were signs everywhere telling us this fact.)  But don't let that stop you.

Lady Travellers will, of course, go around the corner to the Ladies Section.  

Inside it is beautifully, perfectly old world.  It doesn't appear to have been renovated much in the last, oh, fifty years.   You are handed a key to a small cabin where you undress, wrapping a thin Turkish towel around yourself and stepping into wooden sandals, before heading into the inner sanctum: a series of domed steam rooms.  In the main ablution room, a central circular marble platform is surrounded by a series of fountain-style basins.  Here one steams, washes, is massaged.

My best hint is this: give yourself over to the experience and don't worry about modesty.

For guidance, you could read Lady Mary Wortley Montagu's description of visiting a hammam in the early 18th century.  

I was in my travelling habit, which is a riding dress, and certainly appeared very extraordinary to them. Yet there was not one of them that showed the least surprise or impertinent curiosity, but received me with all the obliging civility possible. I know no European court where the ladies would have behaved themselves in so polite a manner to a stranger. I believe, in the whole, there were two hundred women, and yet none of those disdainful smiles or satirical whispers that never fail in our assemblies when anybody appears that is not dressed exactly in fashion. They repeated over and over to me; 'Guzelle, pek guzelle', which is nothing but 'charming, very charming'. The first sofas were covered with cushions and rich carpets on which sat that ladies and on the second their slaves behind them, but without any distinction of rank by their dress, all being in the state of nature, that is, in plain English, stark naked without any beauty or defect concealed. 

Next hint: post-ablutions, take time to drink some mint tea while reclining on a velvet bolster.

You will emerge refreshed, relaxed and, in my case, smelling strongly of lemon verbena.

Can You Visit the Same Place Twice?

Retracing my steps has been a theme of the blog this week, so I thought it appropriate to tie in a hint.  It’s one I came up with last year, when I was in Marseille for a conference. 

I’ve spent quite a bit of time in Marseille over the past five years since my sister moved nearby (along with husband and Adorable Nephews) and I love it – I think it’s one of the most interesting and beautiful cities in Europe.  But I notice in myself a tendency to want to do the same things when I’m in Marseille: I want to have lunch in LesArsenaux, admire the ex-votos and the stunning views at Notre Dame de la Gardeand – if time allows – have a drink at the bar at Le Corbusier’s CiteRadieuse. 

So here’s my new rule (slash hint): for every familiar thing I do when revisiting a place, I’ll do something new as well.  It’s an excellent balance, if I say so myself.

Roof of the Cite Radieuse, Marseille

Hints to Lady Diners

View from Skybar at the Radisson Blu Plaza, Oslo, December 2013

I don’t think I’ve posted this hint before, but I was reminded of it because I was thinking about my erstwhile Melbourne landlady, the unutterably chic Bernie.  (Among other delights she introduced me to chocolate panettone, this amazing perfume - and confirmed my love of polished concrete floors.)  We often discussed travel and we had one particularly interesting discussion that has stuck in my mind about lady travellers eating out on their own.

I regularly eat out by myself of an evening when travelling.  And it’s – fine.  I assure you, the other people in the restaurant are not all wondering if you’ve been a) stood up b) have no friends.  Walk in confidently, ask for a table for one, take it as an opportunity to people watch and order EXACTLY what you want with no one to judge or steal bites from your plate.  Books, magazines, phones are all useful distractions if you tire of people watching and/or your own company.  Eating alone is a much better alternative than not eating or eating crappy takeaway or staring at your hotel room walls.

But – and this is a point Bernie and I agreed on: eating alone in the evening is not always the most comfortable option for a solo lady traveller.  (A lot of our debate was around whether it was easier for male travellers on their own – she thought yes, I’m undecided.  What do you think?)  It’s true that sometimes I feel a bit exposed if I’m by myself – particularly in a more formal restaurant.  Bernie argued that it exposed you to unwanted attention.  We both agreed that not all restaurants are welcoming to women dining alone – or, for all I know, to men dining alone.

So, here’s the hint.  Lady travellers on your own: save your pennies and your appetite for LUNCH.  Lunchtime tends to be more relaxed, even at more formal dining establishments.  For some reason, it’s more culturally acceptable for a woman to dine alone at lunchtime.  (And although I’d say absolutely flout the cultural norms if that’s what works for you, I know it does’t work for everyone.)  In the evening, I’ll more often go to a café or snack place (for gyros, say, or falafel) or – one of my favourite things – visit a market during the day and have a picnic back at my hotel.

Oh, and as a postscript – if looking for a good option to have a drink by oneself in the evening, hotel bars are usually a pretty comfortable bet, and often places you’d want to go anyway.  Three great examples: Housebar at Hotel DeBrett in Auckland, the Skybar at the top of the Radisson Blu Plaza in Oslo and the inimitable Duke's in London.

Life List, Revisited (or: Happy 2014!)

I've noted this once or twice before: occasionally, travelling gets in the way of writing about travelling.  Just before Christmas, I added up all of the air miles I'd flown in 2013 and the total came to over 91,000 - almost four times the circumference of the Earth.  Lots of planes, lots of airports, a certain amount of travel fatigue.

But it's a new year and I'm not ready to say goodbye to Hints to Lady Travellers.  In an effort to kickstart my blogging (and reawaken the love of travel somewhat muffled by one too many delayed flights) I revisited the Life List I posted two years ago.  I wanted to see which of these I'd achieved, which no longer seem relevant, and consider what - two years on - I might add to the list.  So:

1. Stay overnight in a lighthouse
Still want to do this, still haven't done it.

2. Take drawing lessons
Ditto

3. Paint a room in my house yellow
Not yet, but I'm currently in the throes of house-hunting, figuring that actually having a house of my own would be a good first step in ticking this off the list.

4. Write a novel
One day ...

5. Go to Siena and see the allegories of good and bad government and Padua to see the Giotto frescoes in the Arena chapel
This is something I want to do SO MUCH - and yet I keep putting it off.  Does my subconscious worry that it (or I) will be disappointed?  

6. Go to St Kilda in the Outer Outer Hebrides
I've discovered that there's now a regular boat service from Stornaway, so at least this is now more achievable than it was two years ago.

7. Buy, collect or otherwise acquire one piece of art every year
This one I actually have managed.  Hooray!

8. Read every book in Granny’s bookshelf
Though this one is currently on hold as the bookshelf (and most of my books) are in storage, I have slowly being working my way through all of Granny's collection of Irish poetry and plays.  

9. Drink champagne in the Derry & Tom roof garden
Not yet.

10. Learn (properly) five new cooking skills: 1. Chopping vegetables 2. Jointing meat 3. Filleting fish 3. Tempering chocolate 5. Icing
In theory I still want to tick these off, but I'll be honest, they're fairly far down the list.

11. Look at the view from the verandah of Isak Dinesen’s house in Kenya
Oh, yes please.

12. Try indoor rock-climbing
I've investigated this and just need to find a date to do an introductory course.  So watch this space ...

13. Have a dress made for me
No.

14. Buy a leather bag in Buenos Aires
No.  (But I will.)

15. Learn to identify 12 constellations
I'm getting better.  By the time I left Australia I was really good at finding the Southern Cross and I also know Orion, Cassiopeia and the Plough/Bear/Dipper.  Hey - that means this task is 33.33% completed!

16. Walk some of the pilgrim’s route to Santiago de Compostela
I would still like to do this though I hear it's becoming ever more popular and, as a result, ever more crowded.  We'll see.

17. See a camera obscura
Not yet.

18. Spend a week every year doing a volunteer project
And no, I haven't; need to reconsider this one.

19. Take dance classes
Well, I tried a couple of ballet classes but they didn't really take, so I think I need to consider some other form of dance.

20. Go on a road trip with my sisters
I have been on several trips by road with my sisters, but I'm not sure that any of them count as proper, epic Road Trips.  But we have time.

21. Visit all of Ireland’s inhabited off-shore islands
This is a work in progress.  So far I've visited Cape Clear, Rathlin, Tory and Lambay.  

22. Read a book by every Nobel laureate for literature
This isn't a work in progress, but still an ambition.

23. Learn conversational Greek.  Spanish.  Japanese.  Latin.
Um, I have the ability to converse in Greek with a two year old, but I don't think this counts, so no. 23 remains, as yet, uncompleted.

24. Go back to Japan and go to a hot spring/bath
This one is on a back burner, but I would love to go back to Japan.

25. Visit Santorini (preferably with a lover.)
Not yet.

26. Have fresh flowers in my home every week
I have mostly been doing this.

27. Learn to identify 100 flowers
I have singularly failed even to begin this project.

28. Watch all of Hitchcock’s films
According to Wikipedia, Hitchcock had 60 film projects, of which 56 exist now.  Of these I have watched six, so I have a way to go ...

29. Post a parcel to someone every month
I was very assiduous about doing this for quite a while, but have got out of the habit recently.  I like doing it, though, so I should resume.

30. Curate an exhibition about a pet topic
Haven't done this yet, but would still like to.

31. Ski a black run with perfect confidence (and a little style would be nice too.)
No ...

32. Write a children’s book
No ...

33. Start managing my money like a grown up
Getting there ...

34. Go on an archaeological dig
Not yet, but it may well happen in 2014!

35. See all of Shakespeare’s plays
Not only have I not seen them all, I don't think I've seen any new-to-me Shakespeare plays since writing this list - at least not live on stage.  Of 37 plays, I've seen 14 in the theatre.  

36. Take a trip on a flying boat
I've watched a documentary about a flying boat, so that's a start.  Also reread Beyond the Blue Horizon by Alexander Frater, one of my favourite travel books of all time and source of much valuable information and inspiration about flying boats.  

37. Learn how to do my hair
I have acquired a quantity of hairpins and become a bit more adventurous in my styling, so - half a tick?

38. Learn how to apply liquid eyeliner
Actually, yes!  A tick!

39. Visit a South Pacific island and sing songs from the musical on the beach
I'm torn.  I visited New Zealand and subsequently discovered it was in the South Pacific, but it doesn't REALLY fit with what I had in mind when I wrote this item on my list.  So I think it must remain unticked.

40. Improve my knowledge of Geography by learning to identify countries in South America, Asia and Africa
This is a work in progress but it is (she says with some surprise) actually coming along.

41. Learn Adobe Illustrator (properly)
I've signed up to an online course and completed a whopping one assignment.  

42. Go to a music festival
Unticked.

43. Go to Rome
Yes!

44. Live in Paris for at least a month
No.

45. Live in NYC for at least a month
No.  (But really want to revisit New York and am making plans to go later this year.)

46. Buy a house
I'm trying...

47. Become a runner
Yes!  Although running activity does seem to fall off in the colder months.

48. Walk on the Great Wall
No.

49. Visit a new country every year
Actually, this is one I have succeeded with (so far).  Finland, the UAE and Oman were all new-to-me countries visited in the past two years.

50. Have a travel piece published
No.

51. Do a residency
No.

52. Facilitate someone else’s dream of becoming a (lady) traveller
I don't think I've done this yet - at least only in the smallest way.  But I'm always happy to help!

53. Attend the New Year’s Day Concert in Vienna
I will never not want to do this, but competition is FIERCE.  Still, if I entered the lottery every year, that probably would increase my chances.

54. Spend a night in a mountain hut
I have actually done quite a lot of hiking but for some reason no overnight stays in a hut.  But I would still like to.

55. Donate platelets
No.

56. Have lunch at La Colombe D’Or
No.

57. Stay in a super-deluxe, fancy pants, 5 star plus hotel – and drink champagne in the bath
No.

58. Relearn sewing and sew something for my home
Sort of.  In so far as a kind person helped me to sew some cushions, although I think it would be a stretch to say I had 'relearned' sewing.  

59. Learn how to change a tyre.  Jump start a car.  Other car things.
To my shame I have not yet done this.  Which will doubtlessly come back to bite me when the car breaks down.

60. Drive a convertible by the sea, top down, scarf in my hair
No.

61. Create a family recipe collection
No.

62. Print and frame my favourite HTLT photos
No - although like several other entries on the list, this one is on hold until I have a house of my own.

63. Go to the Venice Biennale
Not yet.

64. Go on an epic, continent-crossing train journey
Yes! Read about my adventure on the Ghan here.

65. Go on a yoga retreat (not as the cook!)
No.

66. Stay in a Landmark Trust property
No.

67. Do more reading/research/writing about my family history
Yes - although lots more to do.

68. Plant paperwhites in time for Christmas
Yes!

69. Read the Odyssey travelling around Greek islands
No.

70. Visit Istanbul (not Constantinople)
Not yet - but (fingers crossed) 2014 will be the year.

71. Attend religious services of other faiths than my own (respectfully)
I still haven't quite figured this one out, though I did visit a mosque for the first time last year.

72. Learn to play poker
Sadly, no.

73. Go glamping
No.

74. Go to Port Eliot and Flat Lake
No, but am making plans for 2014!

75. Dance till dawn in Rio
No.

76. Finish the Observer cryptic crossword by myself
I keep getting within a clue of finishing it.  Soon.

77. Finish the Alexandria Quartet
No.

78. Do some further study
Not yet.

79. Learn five great ways to tie a scarf
I've learnt a few - and found this video, so I think I can call this one a tick.

80. Fly first class
No.

81. Persuade Leon to open in Ireland
Not yet, though they have recently opened an outpost at London Bridge, near one of the offices where I am often to be found.  So that's something.

82. Welcome fellow travellers, whether friends or friends of friends or even strangers to my city and my home
Ongoing.

83. Tithe
Not quite.

84. Cook one thing from a cookbook every week
Epic fail.

85. Resurrect Jericho Tarts
No.

86. Go to a U2 concert
No.

87. Take singing lessons
No.

88. Become better informed about science
Ongoing.

89. Institute a regular weekend brunch party
Sporadic.

90. Attend TED
It's still a dream.

91. Learn how to do a two-finger whistle
No.

92. Master the art of packing a suitcase so I can always travel stylishly
If anything, I seem to be getting WORSE at packing.  Although I have developed some strategies which I'll blog about anon.

93. Make croissants from scratch
No.

94. Set up my own business and write a five year plan
Yes and no.  

95. Do a headstand in yoga
No.

96. Go on an internet date
No.

97. Volunteer to teach English
No.

98. Go to an Olympic event
No.

99. Make something special for each of my godchildren and nephews (+ any more I may acquire!)
No.

100. One day, completely spontaneously, pack my bags, go to the airport and fly somewhere on a whim.
No.

So, of a 100 items on my list, 7 1/2 are done (but that includes three half ticks) and 12 are ongoing.  Three of the things are proving to be great long-term projects: visiting a new country every year, collecting new art every year and visiting all of Ireland's offshore islands.  Several are related to my urge to create a nest for when I'm not travelling - so here's to 2014 being the Year of the House.  Some involve pilgrimages, of sorts (Isak Dinesen's house, the Arena Chapel frescoes) and I have a slightly fatalistic feeling about these: they will happen when they're meant to happen.  But I still think it's time to add a few new things to the list.

21a. Attend a course at the Firehouse bread school on Heir Island
23. Having considered it carefully, I've decided to ditch the plan to learn conversational Greek, Spanish or Japanese in favour of learning Arabic, inspired by Freya Stark.
38. Learn to play the ukelele (I got one for Christmas!)
43. Do more reading and research about lady travellers, starting with Beth Ellis, she of the incomparable An English Girl's First Impressions of Burmah
47a. Run a half marathon
64. Follow the golden road to Samarkand, see the tomb of Tamerlane

Reports to follow!

Happy 2014 from Hints to Lady Travellers xxx

Freya Stark: Part the Second

I spent an eight-hour flight to the Arabian Peninsula becoming better acquainted with Freya Stark - this time through her biography Passionate Nomad by Jane Fletcher Geniesse.  What comes across most strongly is Freya Stark's determination to break down the walls of her life, constrained as she was by lack of money, family obligations and health problems.  Plus a world war and the inescapable fact of her femaleness.

Freya Stark was 34 before she embarked on her first true adventure: to spend months improving her Arabic (which she had insisted on learning, despite protests) in the Lebanon.  She wanted to live a big life, an important life.  Perhaps this thirst to keep pushing, to score exploration 'wins', had a negative impact on some of her relationships later on - perhaps.  It's a truism to say that fame changes people; of course it does, but then we all change anyway, regardless of fortune.

The point, she observes, and I have observed, is that travel seems to bring out one's essential self, for better or worse.  Accordingly, Miss Stark suggests that 'the pleasantness of being liked for oneself might ... be added to the five reasons for travel give me by Sayyid Abdulla, the watch-maker'.

You would of course like to know what the five are.

Sayyid Abdulla's Five Reasons for Travel:
To leave one's troubles behind one
To earn a living
To acquire learning
To practise good manners
To meet honourable men

Freya Stark: Part the First

Why did it take me so long to read anything by Freya Stark?  After all, she was published by John Murray, and it was the John Murray Archive that was responsible for my starting this blog.  (I worked on the exhibition at the National Library of Scotland.)  Anyone lucky enough  to visit 50 Albemarle St where John Murray was based for many years would see portraits, sketches and photographs of some of their famous travel writers - including Miss Stark.

Copyright unknown 

Anyway, I'm just glad I finally got round to it (her?).  Freya Stark's prose reads almost like poetry; her insights about the people she meets and lives with in Arabia are profound.  She has an eye for detail and a wonderful gift for describing her surroundings evocatively.

I don't propose to write at length about Freya Stark today, given I've just read one book by her (A Winter in Arabia - about some months she spent living in the Hadhramaut, an isolated part of what is now Yemen), am about to start the second (Baghdad Sketches) and want to supplement my meagre knowledge by reading the recent biography.

But here are some thoughts of hers that have stuck in mind:

...it is, I believe, a fallacy to think of travellers' qualities as physical.  If I had to write a decalogue for journeys, eight out of the ten virtues should be moral, and I should put first of all a temper as serene at the end as at the beginning of the day.

Then would come the capacity to accept values and to judge by standards other than our own.  The rapid judgement of character; and a love of nature which must include human nature also.  The power to dissociate oneself from one's own bodily sensations.  A knowledge of the local history and language.  A leisurely and uncensorious mind.  A tolerable constitution and the capacity to eat and sleep at any moment.  And lastly, and especially here, [in Arabia? in the Hadhramaut?] a ready quickness in repartee.

Excellent hints - not just to lady travellers, but to all travellers, everywhere.

When Are Churches Not Like Museums?

A few weeks ago, there was an opinion piece in the New York Times about the rise of participation in art museums.  Titled 'High Culture Goes Hands-On' the piece complained that art museums were trying too hard to flog the 'hands-on' and needed to concentrate on being places that support passive experiences - no participation required.

You don't have to look hard to find people sighing that art galleries need to go back to being more restrained: places for passive contemplation, quiet voices (or as I once read in a wonderfully awful visitors guide to a museum, 'indoor voices').  You don't have to look hard to find references to art museums as secular churches; shrine-like.

Shortly after I read the NYT piece, I attended evening prayer at a cathedral in Dublin.  Like many historic churches, this one helps defray the costs of its upkeep by charging an admission fee for tourists.  Outside of the summer, tourist visits aren't allowed while services are taking place, but for whatever reason, during the summer (when there's no choral evensong and attendance is smaller) the two take place at the same time.

So there I was, prayerbook in hand, hoping for a contemplative experience - and around me, people took photos: of the beautiful architecture, the famous encaustic tiles, the statues and memorials and - me.  Being the reluctant subject of the photography made me think again of the New York Times piece.  Wouldn't it be better if people weren't so preoccupied with a hands-on experience?  Wasn't the urge to record everything part of this mania for activity?  Where were the hushed voices?  Dammit, where was my contemplative experience?

But the thing is - that's nonsense.  Anyone who suggests that art museums and galleries (it's usually these, not so much history or other museums) should be more shrine-like, more like churches, is missing the point.  Churches are all about participation: though prayer may be a quieter activity, it's not passive.  In the same way, my yoga teacher explains that meditation is active - it's just a kind of active passivity, or maybe a passive activity.  And also - churches, temples and other sacred spaces are often full of noise and motion.  Singing, for example, is one of the oldest, most instinctive group activities.

The truth is, contemplation and participation are not poles, either ends of a spectrum.  There's a continuum of participation and, I would argue, contemplation is just one place on that continuum.  My experience in the church, though a bit irritating, reminded me that rather than saying a place should promote one kind of engagement exclusively, we need to remember that people interact with things in different ways.  And that's okay.

To be practical, some kinds of participation don't obviously coexist that well with others.  The act of prayer is somewhat disturbed by people wandering around with flashing cameras or taking iPad videos of the service.  But it seems to me that the cathedral's usual practice makes sense: when services are happening, don't permit - what should I call it? - tourist activity.  But do - do, do, do - invite people (believers, non-believers, believers of another faith or creed) to come in and be part of the service: level and type of participation at own discretion.

When places of worship do this, I think they offer a valuable lesson to art galleries and museums.  Different kinds of participation are possible, valuable - even essential.  Some of them are difficult to programme at the same time, so set aside times when the space is devoted to specific activities.  But, when you do, make sure that you extend the invitation to all your visitors - not just the target audience.  They may or may not not love it, but at least it will help to remind them that the institution is about trying to meet the needs of many different audiences.

One final thing though - in fact, I'd say this qualifies as a hint: whatever about taking photos of a shrine, church, temple, mosque, synagogue or other place of worship, it is almost never appropriate to take pictures of people actually engaged in worship.

UAE Hints and Mosque Manners

Herewith a few hints to Lady Travellers visiting the UAE on their own.

First of all, I didn't experience any particular problems as a woman on my own in Abu Dhabi.  Everyone I met was courteous and friendly and, as far as Western women are concerned, the rules concerning dress are fairly liberal.  I chose to wear tops that covered my arms and trousers - but this was partly as protection against the sun.  However, I've found that when you are on your own, dressing more conservatively offers some protection against unwanted attention (though it didn't stop two guys from making kissy faces at me outside the souq - for them I employed my Cape Town Mean Face).

The one exception to the dressing rule comes when visiting a mosque.  The Sheikh Zayed mosque helpfully advises visitors as to appropriate clothing:

Briefly, upper arms and legs need to be covered for men; hair, arms and legs for women - and clothing shouldn't be too tight.  Clothing with profanity on it is also a no-no. I wore cotton trousers and a long-sleeved cotton shirt and had brought a scarf with me and this proved to be entirely acceptable.  (I'm frowning with the effort of photographing myself.)

BUT, but, but, if you turn up not wearing suitable clothing, Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque will supply you with a robe to put on over your clothes (I imagine this is not the case with smaller, less tourist-friendly mosques, however).

You will be required to take off your footwear before entering the mosque proper.  I also noticed one couple who were being photographed by a friend (not a problem) being politely asked not to touch inside the mosque.

Apart from that, the same rules apply as when visiting most places of worship: be respectful and think twice before photographing people at prayer.

Rock Wallabies

I admit it, I am a very gifted procrastinator.  I'm currently putting off posting about Uluru (Ayers Rock) because, frankly, I don't know where to start and I have HUNDREDS (no exaggeration) of photos.  It was, in fact, The Trip That Broke The Camera, though happily the camera has been repaired.

All of this is by way of explaining why today's post features rock wallabies and not rocks of the big, red, magical, mysterious variety.

Pop along to the Heavitree Gap Outback Lodge on the edge of Alice Springs and (for no charge) you can view the local population of black-footed rock wallabies.  Food is available to buy from the lodge reception and the wallabies will eat it out of your hands.

Ohlookacutelittlebabyjoeyinhismother'spouch!

And yes, boxing wallabies.

Right Turn From Left Only

On Sunday, I passed a particular rite of passage when I negotiated a Melbourne phenomenon: right turn from left only - aka the hook turn.

Photo taken through the windscreen, just before turning -
which is why it's not very good.

This instruction to drivers in Melbourne's CBD is bewildering to outsiders and seemingly quite confusing for locals too.  Its purpose is to prevent right-turning cars from blocking tramlines (which run along the centre of the bigger streets in the city).

So here's what you do.

1. Think ahead, because you'll need to be in the far-left lane if you want to turn right (counter-intuitive, I know).
2. If the lights are green as you approach the intersection, proceed into the little box conveniently marked on the road in the centre of the intersection.
3. If there's already a car/cars in the little box, you have to wait for the next cycle of lights.
4. Once in the box, stay there until the flashing 'wait' on hook turn signal (yes, special signal) disappears (or wait until there's a green light for the traffic on the street you want to enter).
5. Ignore all the drivers honking at you.
6. With turn successfully negotiated, breath a deep sigh of relief.

Melburnians are strangely proud of the hook turn, and the sign adorns posters, tea towels, cushions, t-shirts.  But then I've noticed, more widely, that Australians are oddly proud of the many native features that can kill you in an instant (the Box Jellyfish, Redback Spider, Fierce Snake, to name but three) - perhaps there's a correlation?

Making Lemonade

It's Friday, the sun's shining, the fire's out (thanks to a thunder and lightning storm yesterday afternoon there was a small grass fire near us; no danger but everything stank of smoke) and, remarkably, I find myself with a clear head and an urge to post.

Except - the only photos I've taken in the past week are of museum showcases in various states of readiness.  Digging through all of the photos on my phone, the only thing I could find that was remotely appealing as blog fodder, was this:

So I decided to turn it into a hint.  When life places lemons (in the form of a lemon tree in the garden of the cottage where you're staying while installing a museum), then of course you should make lemonade.

Lady Traveller Lemonade
Cup of sugar
4-5 lemons
Water

Put the sugar in a saucepan with a cup of water (approximately 250ml) and bring to a gentle boil, then simmer on a low heat until the sugar has completely dissolved.  Add another cup of water and leave the mixture to cool.
Squeeze the lemons (should yield about 500ml juice) and when the sugar syrup is cool, combine the lemon juice with it.  I like to throw in some lemon wedges as well.