Contrary to some accounts, particularly older ones, which portray Clare as a lonely, isolated, and somewhat misanthropic figure, he was a man with a rich social life who had many friends, including literary figures, antiquarians, ornithologists, entomologists, botanists, and artists. Through these friendships, he was abreast of contemporary thought and techniques, and, if only at second hand, he was in touch with the activities of some of the leading naturalists in this country and abroad. This obviously led to an increased knowledge and sophistication in Clare’s understanding of nature, as well as leading to subtle changes in his attitude to the natural world. In particular, it meant that he no longer regarded a love of nature as something to be rather ashamed of, but instead as something which he was able to celebrate.

A substantial collection of sources indicates that women constituted a considerable part of the travelers in the first centuries of the Roman Empire, a period in which traveling became increasingly popular with various social classes. These travelers have left traces of their experiences en route in personal letters on papyri and ostraca, in graffiti and on votive inscriptions. Classical scholarship has long ignored these sources, even though they offer us a unique insight into female experiences and self-representation. Recent excavations on and near the trade routes in the Eastern and Western Desert of Egypt, along which units of the Roman army were positioned in military outposts, protecting and controlling the area, have uncovered letters in which women – most of them of lower rank – discussed their concerns about traveling from and to the military camps of their husbands, fathers, or brothers. When combined with other sources such as papyri and graffiti, these documents give insight into the mobility of the female relatives of soldiers in Roman Egypt. They tell us something about the reasons why they decided to undertake journeys, the distance they covered (some while being heavily pregnant), where they stayed, and the dangers they encountered during the trip.

This chapter explores the topic of Roman military families’ mobility in the late first through third centuries CE by discussing a case study of British families abroad. It surveys the evidence for families that came from Roman Britain and settled on the continent. In doing so, the author assesses and compares various types of evidence (literary, epigraphic, and archaeological) to discuss the case of British military families on the move, families that had been present in the Roman Empire but not accounted for in the modern scholarly literature. The sources analyzed include literary texts, inscriptions, military diplomas and personal dress accessories that the members of such families took with them as part of personal possessions during their travels. Since most sources available to trace such families come from the Roman military context, the focus lies on emigrant soldiers’ families. The first section relies heavily on the historical texts and epigraphic material while the second part is devoted to the discussion of the potential and limitations of material culture in our search for migrant communities. The chapter provides a case to support the view that British military families traveled far and wide in the empire.

Historians have tended to view postwar labor migration, including the Turkish-German case, as a one-directional story whose consequences manifested within host country borders. This chapter complicates this narrative by arguing that Turkish migrants were mobile border crossers who traveled as tourists throughout Western Europe and took annual vacations to their homeland. These seasonal remigrations entailed a three-day car ride across Central Europe and the Balkans at the height of the Cold War. The drive traversed an international highway (Europastraße 5) extending from West Germany to Turkey through Austria, socialist Yugoslavia, and communist Bulgaria. Migrants’ unsavory travel experiences along the way underscored East/West divides, and they transmuted their disdain for the “East” onto their impoverished home villages. Moreover, the cars and “Western” consumer goods they transported reshaped their identities. Those in the homeland came to view the Almancı as superfluous spenders who were spending their money selfishly rather than for the good of their communities. Overall, the idea that a migrant could become German shows that those in the homeland could intervene from afar in debates about German identity amid rising racism: although many derided Turks as unable to integrate, they had integrated enough to face difficulties reintegrating into Turkey.

Chapter Twelve explores three endeavors embraced by Rogers in the last decade of his life. His wanderlust and populist desire to gain practical knowledge and meet ordinary people prompted extensive world travel that took him to Central and South America, Europe, China, Japan, and the Soviet Union. These encounters bolstered his staunch anti-imperialism. Rogers also emerged as one of America’s greatest boosters of aviation. Seeing the wide-open skies as a new frontier and airplane pilots as updated version of the self-reliant cowboy, he promoted the development of commercial and military aviation at every opportunity and idolized flyers such as Lindbergh. Finally, Rogers embraced the newfangled media technology of radio. He became the host of a nationally broadcast radio program, first for CBand then for NBC, that allowed him to reach an enormous audience with his humorous reflections on the issues and personalities of the day. Rogers also became entangled in controversy when he used the n-word in one of his broadcasts, undercutting his record of supporting African Americans while forcing him to confront his own casual assumption of white racial superiority.

This chapter discusses how British modernists engaged with Europe. It takes account of the wider landscape of modernists active on British soil: the impact of art circulation (including key moments like the vogue for Ivan Meštrović, British performances of the Ballets Russes, and F. T. Marinetti’s visit to England), continental European travel and residence, translation, the rise of disciplines like anthropology, attitudes like ‘Byzantinism’ and ‘primitivism’, and the redrafting of European nation-state boundaries. For key figures such as W. B. Yeats, Wyndham Lewis, and Virginia Woolf, one of the driving forces of British modernism was the question of what Europe is and what it might become if its geographical, cultural, and social boundaries were redefined. British modernists’ interest in Europe was intimately connected to their obsession with borders and boundaries – of spaces, political possibilities, customs, conditions, and humans. Reimagining others and themselves as insiders, outsiders, or in-outsiders, the writers and artists of the period adopted a range of identities (from regional identities to British to European and/or cosmopolitan) and developed corresponding artistic practices.

Travelling and staying on the ‘continent’ has shaped writers’ ideas of Europe and of Britain’s place within Europe; it has also impacted their work and its reception. British writers have crossed the Channel for a multitude of reasons, including health and recreation, education, or the wish to escape from their own country and its conventions and laws. This chapter highlights two periods of high mobility and exchange during times of prolonged peace between Britain and other European powers: the early and mid-Victorian years, and the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. Case studies show how writers’ relationship with Europe is marked not only by their Englishness, but always also by personal circumstances: focusing on Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Mary Howitt attends to women’s places in Victorian literature; for the contemporary period, Julian Barnes and Adam Thorpe are discussed as well-known commentators on France and French culture. The chapter asks what attracted and continues to attract writers to Europe, and in what ways they and their work relate to European cultures and languages.

Can a poem create a world? Among other poets, Wallace Stevens affirms a poem's capacity to make a mountain or even a planet. This chapter examines the history behind the idea of the poem as worldmaking, from Renaissance ideas rooted in antiquity, through Enlightenment concepts such as heterocosm, to modernist ideas of autonomy, including W. H. Auden's “secondary worlds.” Allowing for subsequent historicist, political, and poststructuralist critiques of such ideas, it argues for the enduring value of the concept of poem as worldmaking. Some theorists of lyric have advanced a notion of the poem as a ritualistic event of enunciation and others have held that the poem, even if not primarily mimetic, still evokes a world. This chapter argues for a synthetic model of the poem as enacting an event in language and as also producing a polyspatial, polytemporal world, as exemplified by poems by Patience Agbabi, Margaret Atwood, Tracy K. Smith, and others. Drawing on the field of world literature, it explores how the poem's transnational and transhistorical travel worlds the world. Analyzing a poem by A. K. Ramanujan, it asks about the ethical implications of a poem's worldwide reach.

Swift wrote the most widely reprinted and profound fictional travel account in all literature. This chapter suggests that Swift’s Anglo-Irish status, and repeated travel between England and Ireland, shaped his perspective on travel. The first section of the chapter focuses on Swift’s own travels across the Irish Sea and on Irish roads. The second section looks into the Grand Tour and Swift’s reading of travel narratives. The third section shows how Swift’s reading of first-hand travelogues shaped the larger structure of Gulliver’s Travels. Swift is typical of his period in regarding travel writing as equally enlightening and suspect. He is atypical in being uncertain about his own place in the world, both geographically and professionally. However, it is that very uncertainty that grants Swift the ironic distance necessary to transform the popular form of the travel narrative into a timeless commentary on the human condition.

This chapter provides details of the different kinds of vaccines available (live, attenuated, killed, inactivated, recombinant, subunit, mRNA, DNA and vector) for virus infections (e.g. SARS-CoV-2, HAV, HBV, influenzaviruses, JEE, measlesvirus, mumpsvirus, rubellavirus, HPV, rabies, polio, rotavirus, smallpox, mpox, yellow fever virus) in humans. It details the routes of administration and usage (e.g. pre-exposure or post-exposure, childhood, occupational health, travel and for at-risk groups).

This chapter details the epidemiology, route of spread, symptoms and prevalence, relating to viral infections acquired while abroad (HBV, HAV, HEV, HIV, noroviruses, dengue fever, arboviruses, haemorrhagic fever viruses, rabies).

As with practically everything in 19th and early 20th century Egypt, we must consider the colonial context of foreign ‘viewings’ of the Nile Delta. Tourists pulled to the top of the Great Pyramid by Egyptian guides look down on a scene onto which they project their own recent experiences of Egypt and their knowledge of its history. They look, in the words of Mary Louise Pratt, with ‘imperial eyes’. When they venture into the landscape of the Delta itself, such as on the sporting trips recommended in Cairo of To-Day, they move through a landscape whose infrastructure and, to a certain extent, socio-economic system are the products of imperialism, and also of Egyptian nation-building in an international, imperial context. In this chapter, I shall explore these themes of modernity and imperialism through a superficially innocent genre of writing – the Euro-American travelogue – and a more overtly political genre – the contemporary Egyptian autobiography. For both, the late 19th and early 20th century Delta is in a sense a place of lost innocence, although they survey its landscape from two very different viewing platforms. The tension between the Delta of the shadūf and the Delta of the railway is always present.

Goscelin was born in Flanders but spent most of his life in monasteries in England. He was a great writer of biographies of saints, particularly of early Saxon women. His Book of Consolation is a wonderfully imaginative work addressed to a woman whom he loved after meeting her at Wilton Abbey before she was sent to a monastery in Gaul. Goscelin speaks much of spiritual friendship and the spiritual life, quotes from Christian and classical text and includes fascinating details about medieval life.