dual personalities

My beloved DP heads out to the Holy Land today, and while I understand that she is traveling with a church group and thus unlikely to do anything too wild, I can’t help thinking of her in terms of early English adventurers like Lady Hester Stanhope, Gertrude Bell and Freya Stark.

Born in 1776, Lady Hester was the daughter of an Earl and the niece of Prime Minister William Pitt (the younger), so she had the standing to flout convention. And she did. Bored by English society, she took herself off to the Mediterranean, found a lover, and started exploring. When women’s clothes became inconvenient, she simply started dressing as a man. The locals loved it.

Reputedly one of the first westerners to undertake archaeological exploration, Lady Hester excavated at Ashkelon, an important biblical site on the coast of southern Israel.  Apparently, she didn’t find the treasure she expected and smashed the one statue uncovered for fear that she be accused of stealing. So much for archaeology. Having become something of a legend, she spent the rest of her life living in the mountains of Lebanon, where she died a recluse in 1839. As I recall, she is the inspiration for the Mary Stewart classic, The Gabriel Hounds.

Much less eccentric than Stanhope, Gertrude Bell (1868-1926) was the daughter of a progressive industrialist, who served as Labor MP under Benjamin Disraeli.  She was well educated, well informed, and highly intelligent. Although her career path was unconventional for a woman, Bell never courted scandal. Rather, her obvious competence and propriety won her the respect of her male contemporaries.

She hob-nobbled with kings and heads of state. Here she is picnicking with King Faisal, and here she is with T.E. Lawrence.

They had met before WWI, and shared interests in archaeology and near eastern politics. After the war, they were both involved in sorting out the boundaries of the Near East at the Paris peace talks, and both suffered deep disappointment as result. Bell died in Baghdad in 1926 as the result of an overdose of sleeping pills. Whether it was an accident or suicide is much debated. I’m inclined to believe that she died as she lived — according to her own wishes.

By contrast, Freya Stark lived to the ripe old age of 100 — which is pretty remarkable considering what she got up to during her life. Born in England in 1893, Stark’s near eastern travels began in 1927 when she arrived in Beirut. From there she moved east to Baghdad and then into the wilds of Iran, where she was the first western woman to visit the famed Valley of the Assassins.

Rugged hiking for a lady in the 1920s

Stark wrote numerous books chronicling her adventures, the last of which involved a visit to Afghanistan in the 1970s! Now that’s what I call intrepid. Not only did she have a great name (sounds like the heroine in a Victorian novel), but she didn’t let anything hold her back. She lived as she pleased, even if it resulted in solitude.

Well, obviously I don’t expect my DP to rush headlong into the wilderness, but I do hope she learns a thing or two from the intrepid ladies mentioned here: (1) Write about your experiences. Inquiring minds want to know; (2) Fear nothing, prepare for everything, and (3) There’s no place like home! These women never found home, but yours is ready and waiting for your return. As Gertrude Bell once wrote,

All the earth is seamed with roads, and all the sea is furrowed with the tracks of ships, and over all the roads and all the waters a continuous stream of people passes up and down – traveling, as they say, for their pleasure. What is it, I wonder, that they go out to see?

*All photos recovered from Google Image.

Well it has been quite a week. Last Sunday we worked frantically to empty the kitchen. It was touch and go but we got it done.

The contractor and his guys arrived on Monday and got to work. I imagined him moving like Chip Gaines but I’m sure they used actual tools.

In a couple of days later had my kitchen looking like this:

And by the end of the week, they had the room down to the bare bones: no cupboards; no sink; no dishwasher; no floor; no wallpaper, no stove vent, and no lights.

The plastic sheeting over all the doors makes my house look like a crime scene, but it does keep the dust transference to a minimum. We’re managing just fine, although it has been difficult to get a decent cup of tea and the lack of kitchen sink presents a challenge. I’m afraid it’ll be paper plates and bread products for the foreseeable future. No matter —  I booked Thanksgiving dinner at our favorite restaurant. Son #1 will be joining us and I know that we’ll have a delicious meal.

Stay tuned for updates. In the meantime, have a wonderful Thanksgiving and take the time to be grateful for everything, including whatever seems annoying, inconvenient, or terrible, for those things reveal our strengths and weaknesses and teach us to be better. I’m glad to be alive and to remember what Lew Wallace wrote in Ben Hur: “Riches take wings, comforts vanish, hope withers away, but love stays with us. Love is God.”

*Mr. Blandings Builds his Dream House