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Real ladies do not travel - or so it was once said. This collection of women's travel writing dispels the notion by showing how there are few corners of the world that have not been visited by women travellers. There are also few difficulties, physical or emotional, real or imagined, thathave not been met and usually overcome by thesesame women.Jane Robinson's first book,Wayward Women, was a guide to women travellers and their writing, and having read over a thousand of their books she is uniquely qualified to compile this anthology. Life is never dull for her intrepid women, whether diving to the bed of the Timor Sea or reaching thesummit of Annapurna. From an encounter with a snake in the Amazon jungle to shipwreck and kidnap on the Barbary Coast, there are tales of adventure, derring-do, and great danger. There are also moving accounts of unimaginable hardship, includingcaring for a family in an ammunition cart during the siege of Delhi and a journey through Tibet that leaves its author childless and widowed.There is no such thing as a typical woman traveller--and there never has been--as this exhilarating anthology shows on a journey of its own through sixteen centuries of travel writing, aboard almost anything from a Bugatti to a Bath chair. You are taken as far afield as it is possible to go, in thecompany of some of the most extraordinary characters you are ever likely to meet.
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‰ЫПI envy the easy peace of mind of a ruddy milkmaid, who, undisturbed by doubt, hears the sermon, with humility, every Sunday, not having confounded the sentiments of natural duty in her head by the vain-enquiries of the schoools, who may be more learned, yet, after all, must remain as ignorant.‰Ыќ ‰ЫУ Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, “Letters ... Written, during her Travels in Europe, Asia, and Africa”
‰ЫПEverything seems unreal or unnecessary, everything is dressed up. / All these people moving about, sitting still, in a hurry, catching trains, eating long dinners, dressing themselves, looking at each other dressed ‰ЫУ what does it all mean? Was all this going on when we were in that other world which we have just left, that great silent world where everything was itself and big, and not confused by accessories? Was all this din and bustle going on? It is strange that we should have had no inkling of it, for it seems of so much importance to all these people, idle with a great restlessness; it seems essential to them.‰Ыќ ‰ЫУ Louisa Jebb, “By Desert Ways to Baghdad”