Thursday
May202010
Itchy Feet
May 20, 2010 * * * * * Posted by: Eliza 
I think I have my mother to blame, in the nicest way possible of course, for these itchy feet of mine. She was born in Ootacamund in the Nilgiri Hills of southern India. She grew up riding elephants and tracking tigers. She ran barefoot with wild tangled hair and a dirty face; her mother - an elegant English woman, although of Bostonian descent - tried to tame her unruly daughter, but soon gave up. A stint at boarding school in Scotland, after all the Brits were rather suddenly ejected from India, was a miserable failure. The cold, damp and dour weather was abhorrent to this stubborn and dusty “Indian” child. Her pioneering spirit was strong nevertheless and didn’t let her down, it took her to Colorado to round-up horses as a cowboy on a ranch in the mountains. From there she became a top fashion model in the London swinging 60s scene before appearing as a Bond Girl in the original Casino Royale (the one without Daniel Craig).
My mother, known in those days as Honey, told me about all of this in my early days. She whispered stories to my twin sister and I that flickered like fireflies in our baby sleep. She sang campfire cowboy songs to us when, I know now, she dearly missed the wild open plains of the west. She talked of spices and painted exotic frangipani images that remain in indelible coloured ink in my mind like henna paintings. She met a man, who wanted to take her to a desert where he raised Arabian horses and she would have lived in a tent. But then she met my father, a tall, handsome city boy with a twinkle in his eye, and she fell in love. She died when my sister and I were 16.
As soon as I was able, I started to travel. I went to the badlands of Kenya's northern frontier district and Lake Turkana, where I tried to get lost...and failed. I journeyed to Russia, and walked for hours in Moscow’s Gorky Park; I went 'underground' with artists and writers who talked about things that went way over the top of my very young head, but I fell in love with all of them. Disguised as a Russian peasant (don't ask!) I travelled across the Ukraine to Kiev, meeting amazing people on the way; old women with a lifetime of work and worry etched on their faces. They worked, stooped and stiff, on the railways lines in the snow, but we shared stories and laughter - remember what I said once about women always finding something to talk about, no matter the language or culture.
In Sarajevo I spent time with an amazing woman, an English professor at the city's main University before the war. She was in her early 60s and lived with her elderly mother in a large, formal, house with one of those entrance halls (and I really mean 'entrance hall', the kind that Grace Kelly might just come gliding down to meet her dashing suitor at the door). Our reality check was an unexploded mortar sticking out of the once immaculate lawn like an unwelcome statue. We used to sit on the first floor veranda, only after dark so the Serbian snipers in their high-rise towers, wouldn't see us, and drink rose petal tea out of gilt-edged tea cups and talk of life before.
And then finally for me, a return to Africa and finding my twinkly-eyed man. Days and nights spent in the shadow of our mountain and space, more than I could ever have thought possible, and love, laughter, chaos and colour that exhausts and delights in equal measure.
In all of this, I have never been to India but I plan to go very soon. I often talk to J of tea plantations in what is now Kerala, where we would go and find the family house that still stands and walk through the jungles in her footsteps. I tempt him with the stories that my mother told me. She, after all, accompanies me every step of the way.
Reader Comments (14)
Oh Eliza - you've lived such an exotic life..a one that is filled with adventure and life-experience. I'd thank your mother that she left you the gift of wanderlust..and for your 'itchy feet'.
Love how you've drawn me in and taken me along with you on all of your exciting travels. As I read..I feel as if I'm right there with you.
Beautiful!!!
Love to learn about your life and travels. Love that picture. And I think of my own mum, who I think was much more adventurous than I am. I have tried to find her footprints (and other familymembers') in Indonesia. It was very exciting, although I guess very different, 50 years later.
My immediate thought, Eliza, is to say I sure hope you are writing all this down somewhere...the long version, that is. The stories are varied and rich and I can just see someone wanting to pass them all on, whether you have your own children or not. The older I get the more I see my mother in me...her passion for learning everything new under the sun and never being too old for anything. What a delightful way to remember your own mother. You both would have a rapt audience if someone got you started! Thanks for sharing once again your rich history.
What a beautiful story...I have never traveled much at all so I am enthralled by your wanderlust, but yes, as you say, it is in your very genes. The way you write, I can just see you sitting there with a gilt-edged teacup...I can see it, but I can't imagine living in the scene you describe, with its reality checks and snipers... you brought tears to my eyes this morning.
Like Kelly, you brought tears to my eyes this morning. If I could have only one of your adventures, I'd be an extremely happy woman. Thank you for taking me with you through your wonderful tales. I'm with Ginnie, you should be writing a book.
Fragmented. Disorganized. Abstracted. Yes, life surely does get like that sometimes. Makes you appreciate all those days that go smoothly. What a great photo, SUe. A perfect match to your words.
I like the image, with so much going on. Your story is really interesting; sounds like you take after your mom a lot!
You mother sounds like an amazing woman. What a wonderful life she lead. It sounds filled of the one thing that really takes me away, romance.
Am waiting to hear more about your life adventures!
Eliza, a wonderful piece of autobiographical magic!
When you open yourself up to the World, whether through writing or images, it creates a little sticky patch on you that we can all hang on to, just at different places. I have that sense of wanderlust and new places...always wanting to see how others live and adapt in Life. Great posting!
I really like the photo too, as if you are traveling through time to visit your...memories!
I always find myself reading your posts two, three, four times. The first time I read much like a young girl reading a "romantic novel;" later the reading comes differently to my more mature mind. I agree with the others. I certainly hope you are putting these together at least in a journal, if not an autobiography.
What a wonderful story Eliza, I have never traveled much but I find so much pleasure reading about all your adventures. Thanks for letting me follow you around to all these exciting places!
Beautiful image and what a delightful read! I ditto the others who already told you: you should write a book. Loved to read about your mother and you. Thanks for sharing :)
That is an amazing story! And the picture is one of the most brilliant ones I have seen so far this year!! I get really sucked in by it! The composition is amazingly energetic and vivid, even if the photo is in B&W. It is a true travel photo!!
Great story too, in a way I envy you, even though I have seen my fair share of the world, there are always places to explore even further, or new ones to discover.
I love these glimpses into your life ... thank you for sharing.