501 Places

Cape Town's Castrol guitarist

This story might sound strange to anyone under 30, while older folk may recognise some of the sentiments I experienced in this incident. I met my first South African in 1987. I remember it well. I was 18, halfway through another Inter-rail summer, and I was in the station in Salzburg ready to catch some sleep before a 4am train to Vienna. I got talking to a young backpacker girl, slightly older than me with long blonde hair. I thought her accent might be Dutch but she soon introduced herself as a South African.

Now at that time my exposure to South Africa was 100% negative. I was born at a time when sanctions were already in place. There was no cultural or political exchange with the country. As a sports fan I knew of South Africa as the place where our greedy and immoral sportsmen, past their prime and without shame, would go and earn a fortune on black-listed tours and sell their reputations for a few pieces of dirty silver.

I had heard of Nelson Mandela, thanks largely to a song that had done well in the charts. I didn’t know much about him, except that he was in prison and that he was a focus for the anti-apartheid movement in the UK. I knew the South African police were brutal in enforcing the rules of apartheid. I knew black people weren’t allowed to get on the same bus as white folk, share the same beach or live in the same streets.

I had never seen a South African movie or heard a South African song by a white artist. I knew of de Klerk and Botha thanks to the BBC, and heard about their ruthless grip on power. As a student I was not allowed to bank with Barclays, the only bank who liked to say Yes to the apartheid regime there. I had heard of Sun City, as a place where the wicked white folk would spend the money they had made from exploitation on gambling, golf and watching international singers who would sell their souls for a fat purse.

And then there was the song. In 1986 Spitting Image, one of the most popular UK programmes of the 80s and its in prime, released this as a B side to a song that reached no. 1 in the British charts.

So there you have it. That was the view of a South African as held by a fairly average teenager growing up in eighties Britain. There was no mention in the media of white people in South Africa who opposed apartheid or who did much good work in difficult circumstances in trying to improve the situation for all South Africans. We had a homogenous view of an entire group of people (did someone mention racism?).

So there I was, talking with this young girl. We must have chatted for a couple of hours before her train was called and we went our separate ways. I learned that her father was a farmer of oranges. But more than that, I learned that she was studying hard to go to university, that she wanted to see the world and that she had some great tips on the places I was about to visit in Austria and Yugoslavia. Pretty ordinary stuff. Oh, and she was a supporter of the anti-apartheid movement.

If I ever had to give a simple answer to the question I posed a couple of weeks ago in a post about travel being a waste of time, I should probably tell this story. The international media clearly served a role in applying the constant pressure that eventually signalled the end of the apartheid regime. But they also demonised an entire race in the eyes of millions, painting them as a one-dimensional group of racist thugs and bullies. It is only through this and subsequent interactions with ordinary South Africans that I was able to see beyond that stereotype.

Plaza Islas Malvinas, Ushuaia

While hitchhiking around Europe in the 80s I met a German guy who pretended to be an Icelander, and even had the Iceland flag on his backpack. He was keen to  escape the negative perception he feared he would get as a German on the roads of France or Italy. (He also presumed that young ladies would be more curious about an Icelander and want to know more about his homeland, but that’s another story). He even told me how well his cover plot had evolved over the summer he’d spent on the road, and could now repeat a string of useful facts about his newly adopted nation.

I’ve met more than a few Americans who try to pass off as Canadians on their travels to avoid hostility (long before the Bush years), and I’ve met Canadians who proclaim their un-American identities as their first utterance, for fear of being mistaken for their southern neighbours. The maple leaf flag is used as the unspoken symbol to ward off evil.

There is an irony here, in that many Americans I’ve met have been humbled by the overwhelming hospitality they have received on their travels, ESPECIALLY in countries with whom their government has quarrels (I’m thinking particularly of Syria here, but I’m sure American readers can add their own experiences).

Last year we hired a driver to take us from Damascus to Beirut, and this articulate young Syrian shared with us his experiences of meeting people from around the world. When I asked him if he had many American visitors, he replied that they didn’t. “They don’t like Syrians; I don’t know why”. On the other hand I read on countless blogs written by Americans travellers who declare that they would like to go to the Middle East but feel it’s too dangerous, the implication being that they might be kidnapped or killed by terrorists.

Too often we fear that people will hold us, as tourists, responsible for the actions of our government. That we will be made to pay for the wrongs that people feel have been inflicted on their nations. But the reality is thankfully much more pragmatic.

From our experience people are intelligent enough to separate the consequences of a nation’s foreign policy from the welcome they give to an individual traveller from that country. We received nothing but warmth and kindness on our visit to Argentina, which coincided with the 25th anniversary of their conflict with the UK.

I might have some very strong disagreements with the policies of the UK governments, but I still feel priveleged to hold a British passport and would not choose to hide my identity on my travels. In fact, being open with others about our opinions on international politics has led to many memorable conversations along the way.

It might suit the US and UK governments not to have thousands of tourists visiting the countries with which they are in dispute. A open flow of tourism can, after all, lead to a mutual understanding and a certain interdependence over time.

For those visitors who would like to visit a part of the world where they worry about their national standing, I would say look around and find out what those who have actually been there are saying. It’s quite likely that you will be safe to go, you won’t need to adopt an alter ego, and you will be greeted with open arms.

Me and Diego

Almost everyone has a story of an accidental encounter with a famous person at some point in their life. An old school friend provoked great jealousy among our group of friends in declaring that he had spent many an evening at home alone with Kim Wilde, a legendary British pop singer of the early 80s. That he was only 6 at the time and she was his babysitter made little impact on the bragging rights that the story gave him.

Living in New York, everyone seemed to have a story about a celebrity that they chatted with in a line at the sandwich shop, or with whom they shared an apartment building. We also shared a building with a Yankees baseball star, but not knowing anything about the game I never took the time to identify him, much to the disdain of my work colleagues.

Our most notable encounter with the sporting elite occurred back in 1998 on a flight to Sri Lanka. We had opted to pay the extra to Air Lanka to upgrade for the 15 hour flight, and were pleasantly surprised to find the entire business class section empty as the boarding process was coming to an end.

It was at that point that the captain made an announcement. He reminded all the passengers that the previous day the Sri Lankan cricket team had made history by beating England at Lord’s, the home of English cricket, for the first time in their history. With that he invited all the passengers to give the team a warm welcome as they boarded the flight. And there we were, alone among the victorious Sri Lankan team and their partners.

We exchanged numerous conversations with the players in the course of the overnight flight, and in contrast to the likely antics of an England football team, the players were quiet, respectful and polite. As a cricket fan I was excited to see so many of those I’d previously paid to watch, and have remembered some of those little inconsequential exchanges we shared on our way to their homeland.

On arrival in Colombo the airport was thronged with local supporters waiting to greet their heroes, while we were able to slip away quickly and enjoy the start of our holiday.

Which famous people have you met on your travels, and did they live up to their public reputation?

Watching football should be easy

When I realised that I would be in Philadelphia at a convention for the start of the 2002 World Cup I could never have guessed just how hard it would be to watch a game. I mean, they have over 100 channels don’t they? And I was staying at the Crowne Plaza, so I would think they would have enough TV options to have at least one channel screening a game?

Wrong! I missed the opening game, having unsuccessfully flicked through every possible programme and found every sport except for football. ‘What is wrong with this country?” I thought to myself. Still, not to be defeated my work colleague and I asked around at the convention as to where I might be able to watch the England match the following morning. It was a 5.30am kick off local time, which made the challenge a little more difficult. But I guess we had asked the right people, because at around 2am that night I received a voicemail telling me of an address where I could see the match live, a little over three hours later.

Our taxi took us to the other end of Philly and dropped us along a non-descript street. Around us were old houses, a few were boarded up and it looked like the last place you would want to be, before dawn in a shady district of a American city known for its crime rate. The taxi was gone, and we were left to walk up to this large door, already feeling we’d been duped. But the door opened as I gave it a push and in front of us was a long corridor. As we headed along this unlit passage, a murmur of noise grew and eventually we came to its source, behind another large wooden door.

Very easy in Laos!

On pushing this door it was as if we had been transported to another world. England flags and Union Jacks covered the large room, a giant TV hung on the wall showing the players warming up on the pitch and the room was filled with around 50 people, mostly young men wearing England shirts. Where had they all come from? The beers flowed, the bacon butties were dished out, and England went on to draw 1-1 against Sweden. It was, all in all, one of the most surreal football experiences I’ve enjoyed.

A few days later I was in New York and this time did manage to pick up a channel to watch the mighty Poland lose to the hosts South Korea. Maybe I should have stayed in Philly? On the way to the airport, the cab driver had the news on the radio, and as the USA had just won a big game I was sure this would be a big story. I should have expected it, but the football success that their countrymen were enjoying got a one line mention after the college basketball results. “It’s a women’s game” the cab driver explained. What could I say?

Alone in the Tien Shan mountains, Kyrgyzstan

I have come across these two dimensions in Myers-Briggs tests and other profiling tools when recruiting and being recruited, and wondered how we might apply this to the world of travel. On the face of it, our instinct might guide us to say that the extraverts of the world are more likely to choose to travel, to enjoy the adventure and to make the most of the experience. But I’m not convinced of this. Let’s have a look at the definitions of the two traits:

According to the Webster dictionary (via Wikipedia), extraversion is “the act, state, or habit of being predominantly concerned with and obtaining gratification from what is outside the self”. Extraverts tend to enjoy human interactions and to be enthusiastic, talkative, assertive, and gregarious. Introversion on the other hand is “the state of or tendency toward being wholly or predominantly concerned with and interested in one’s own mental life”. Introverts tend to be more reserved and less outspoken in large groups, often taking pleasure in solitary activities such as reading, writing, drawing, and using computers.

Seems pretty clear doesn’t it? Gregarious, enjoying human interactions, stimulated by the world around them on one hand, and reserved, solitary and concerned with the world within on the other. Surely the extraverts have it?

I should declare my bias here. On every profile I’ve completed I’ve come out as an introvert. But personal traits aside, I would still suggest that the life of travel is often best suited to an introvert. Here are just a few arguments to support this.

Firstly, life on the road involves plenty of quiet time, as a solo traveller of course but even as half of a couple. In the long hours on a plane or a bus or those sleepless eternities caused by jetlag, we are alone and inevitably drift into our own worlds; a comfortable place for the introvert, less so for their talkative counterparts.

Secondly, when interacting with people from other cultures there is often an apprehension on the part of our hosts not to offend or be offended. An introvert will typically say less, hold back for longer, but will be more careful to avoid causing offence, even if this is primarily to preserve their own internal contentment of which they are preoccupied.

And lastly, while it may appear that an extravert may be more attuned to soaking up their new surroundings, it might be the introvert who is able to quietly admire and observe the beauty of the landscapes, the people and the culture at a deeper level. Their preference to be silent and to watch and listen rather than to dive in and engage with anyone and everyone may allow them to absorb the sights, sounds and smells that surround them on a different level.

I don’t know if there is a clear answer to this question; I suspect not. We are of course made up of many traits, and our tendency to draw our energy from within or without is only one such dimension. But I would argue that, strange as it may seem on the face of it, a preference to be in one’s own company can be a benefit in travelling and experiencing the world around us.