In this issue of The Inside Track, Hilary Bradt finds unexpected echoes of her own travels in The Odyssey. From the ancient Law of Zeus and the enduring importance of kindness to the powerful pull of home at the end of a long journey, she reflects on what it means to travel, and on the restlessness that can follow a return home.

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I’ve been reflecting on the film The Odyssey, brought into focus by the guilty realisation that I’ve never read that epic poem, despite my grandfather doing the definitive translation in the 1940s. One element seemed particularly relevant to travel today:

The Law of Zeus, which, in a nutshell, is about treating a stranger with kindness.

Sound familiar?

As many of you will remember, the theme of last year’s New Travel Writer of the Year Competition was ‘The Kindness of Strangers’, so the Law has endured for some 2,000 years - although these days, I think we worry less that the stranger might be a god in disguise, and more about simply doing the decent thing.

In the film, Odysseus is beset by guilt about the way he deceived the Trojans, betraying their trust and slaughtering a good number of women and children. He reflects that violating the Law of Zeus threatens civilisation itself. There are uncomfortable parallels in our world today.

Then there’s the main theme: the desire to return home after a journey full of adventures. I don’t know how many other travellers feel the pull of home when they’re in the final stages of a long trip, but it certainly resonates with me. In the three long trips that I have made - journeys that lasted several months, or even years - I have found myself in the final few weeks increasingly less interested in sightseeing, and more in keeping moving towards the magnet of home, friends and family.

Not just friends and family, however, but also a familiar culture and language. I suspect that a really good traveller is as comfortable in other cultures (or even more so) as they are in the one that they grew up in. Not me, though, and I think that's perfectly ok. Mind you, nearly running out of money was certainly a factor: in 1963 I walked up the hill to my home with the last sixpence in my pocket. There were no credit cards or ATMs in those days.

But once I was home, how did it feel?

Each time I was overwhelmed with culture shock and nostalgia for what we used to call the 'Third World.' Everyone here seemed so discontent, so angry. And they ate so much! And wasted so much!

And so, I would start planning my next trip, ready for another adventure somewhere new…

Until next time,

Hilary

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