Leaving a Home
Takis and I have just returned ‘home’ to Australia for the thirteenth time since beginning work on the house in Greece.
It’s
a mighty long trip and it took a week to get over jet lag. We are at last
beginning sleeping naturally at night, and not dozing off in the daytime!
We
sadly closed down the Greek house, shutting the shutters, rolling up carpets,
putting curtains in drawers. There had not been rain for a long time so I
watered the garden well. We will have someone come in to keep an eye on the
house and garden for us, but I know there will be a lot to do when we return. I
know this as the same happens here in Australia. I leave the house clean and
the garden weeded and watered, and though there is someone here to keeps an eye
on our Australian home for us there is always a need to refresh things and get
the place livable again.
Home Again!
I recently read a
review of a new book by James Clifford called Returns. It is a book I must read
as Clifford once again tackles the subject of living between cultures. Mark
Abbey, the reviewer, says that Clifford takes a positive view of the global
world, and that in Returns Clifford points out that in our contempory world
‘the indigenous’ and ‘the diasporic’ are no longer separate; one can hardly
exist without the other.
(We’ve seen this in
the current story of Ebola outbreak, and of the way in which World Health
Organisation helped, and also Diasporic Africans – who particularly knew what
was needed ‘back home’. )
But
when I think about our lives I ask myself which is our ‘real’ home, which our
indigenous home, and which our disaporic home? Its hard to know! England and
Greece might be called our indigenous homes as that is where we were born, yet,
in another respect, they have become our diasporic homes as they are our home
from home, places we return to when we can. Australia however remains our
home-base and although for the past thirteen years we have only been there for
half of each year it is the place where our children live, and where, before
retiring, the place where we both worked for most of our lives.
Writing about Stays and Journeys
Travel
books can be divided into reports of journeys, about short stays or long stays.
Most is seem to me are about ‘a journey’. One book I want to get my hands
on is Robert MacFarlane’s The Old Ways. It is a very poetic discription of
walks he’s made in various countries. He definitely writes about Journeys.
Another is Carol
Drinkwater’s Olive Route. In this book she describes her travels around the Mediterranean
trying to piece together the history of olive growing.
Many
travel books are also about short stays. For instance, Henry Miller’s The
Colossus of Maroussi, is a very personal account of stay in Greece and his
meeting with Lawrence Durrell, just at the beginning of the 2WW. Bill Bryson is
another well known travel writer and two of his books, Neither Here nor There,
about travelling in Europe, and Down Under his book his book about Australia, echos some of our thoughts of living here and overseas.
He tends to takes a journey to another country stay for a while and then
wittily tell his readers about the adventures he’s had and something about the
people he’s met. But he also writes about longer stays as he has lived in both
England and the USA.
One
gets the sense that many travel writers are restless folk, looking at other
people’s homes and wondering if they’d like to live there. And some do get to
stay for quite long periods in ‘other places.’ Charmain Clift’s Mermaid Singing
tells a family story written while living for a year or two on Kalithera, a
sponge diving community in Greece. Frances Mayes Under the Tuscan Sun, at home
in Italy and Peter Mayle’s A Year in Provence both give an account of
rebuilding of a house, pointing out the absurd things that can happen when you
live in another country.
Home from Home
Pico
Iyer in his book Global Soul explores yet another kind of situation, the
dilemma of those who live in more than one place, and the need to feel ‘at
home’ in more than one place.
Of
course we know that many travel writers must live somewhere other than the
place they are writing about, and naturally they endevour to keep their real
home life private. George Negus, an Australian, took his family to live just
south of Florence for a year. In his book The World from Italy while discussing
football, food and politics he attempts to get closer to the cultural issues
that are at the heart of Italian culture today. We do not get much of an idea
about his other life, the one he left and the one he’ll be going back to.
Perhaps
Eleni Gage’s book North of Ithaka describes a little more of what I’ve
experience, the ‘living in two places’that Pico Iyer writes about. For her
there was a the need to go back to her grandmothers village in Greece and
rebuild the family house, while also not give up the life she was still happily
living, with family, in America.
But, as James
Clifford points out, the ‘coming home’, to either place, will always involved a
process of ‘re-indigenization’ and ‘re-immersion’. I’m sure that George Negus
and family, Charmain Clift and family had to deal with a kind of re-immersion
when they came back to Australia after their time away. And, for those of us
who do it every year, this is a continuous process.
Thus, each year as we
return to unlock the red door of our Lemnos house, we are not looking forward
to hiding away in some remote ‘romantic’ spot for a peaceful holiday, we are
there to re-engage with local traditions, and with a world away from our other
home.
And, as we come back to Australia and climb the steps to our mock
colonial door, we know we will again have to find out what has happened in our
local area while we’ve been away. We will have to catch up with family and
friends, re-engage, pick up, from where we left off.
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