501 Places

Phnom Penh

We were being dragged around yet another Chinese craft workshop and saw a lady making a beautiful embroidered picture. When we stopped to admire her work the owner quickly switched to salesman mode and told us it could be packaged and sold to us for only $80. We had nowhere to pack this, no inclination to buy it, and more than that no spare $80 in our budget for an unexpected purchase like this. When the news was conveyed to the lady via our interpreter/guide, she looked despondent and said something along the lines of “I’m sorry you don’t like it”.

For many years I didn’t understand the significance of this episode. As two travelling youngsters we had explained to our guide that $80 was a lot of money for us; that we had a tight budget, and that we had scrimped and saved to be able to come all the way to China. When he asked about our earnings and his eyes lit up at our reply we were quick to point out the cost of our mortgage, the price of food, clothing, fuel, taxes etc. “We’re not rich” was our message. We might earn a lot by Chinese standards but the cost of living is so high at home that much of that money goes on basic unavoidable expenses.

In the 15 years since our trip to China I’ve seen many others make the same argument, playing down our wealth when visiting countries where the majority of people live hand to mouth and have no bank account or possibility of saving. It’s done with the best of intentions, usually to try and correct the perception of a local person of their infinite wealth.

But I realise that on the most simple level we did live in a completely different world to that woman in the Chinese workshop. She didn’t need to know anything about our income or living costs to make her mind up that we were incredibly rich. We were there, and that was enough!

On our recent travels in Laos and Cambodia, most of those we spoke to had never left their borders and had only travelled to another city in their country to sort out important administration. A trip overseas was out of the question for two reasons: one is money of course, but the other is the basic concept of leisure time. The idea of having five weeks paid annual leave (or even the American 10 days) is a true luxury and any time off in the week is usually spent on family business. A day out to the nearest river or beach is often a major treat.

So when we arrive, travelling through their country for no reason other than our own desire to be there, it is this freedom to travel that gives away our wealth before any thought of finances. The fact that, in the case of our visit to China, we were young twentysomethings, makes this assumption so much stronger.

So now, when we travel to the poorer parts of Asia or Africa we no longer protest our financial modesty. We accept that assumptions will be made, that our ability to travel around the world because we want to will mark us out as priveleged. Starting off with that mindset might even allow us to interact with people in a more honest and respectful manner as a result.

Barber at work by railway, Puno, Peru

Whether we consider ourselves as seasoned travellers or occasional tourists, we invariably seek out the ‘authentic experience’ wherever we are staying. It may be the restaurant that sells authentic food, the authentic hotel run by local people, or the boat trip to visit the authentic village, where “people go about their daily lives as they have done for centuries, untouched by the outside world”. So just what is the authentic experience? Does it exist, and if so where should we look for it? I suggest it’s not as elusive a phenomenon as some would think.

If we take the US as an example, a natural reaction will be to dismiss New York as “not the real America”. If we take this a step further, surely the most unauthentic experiences are suffered in and around Times Square and Midtown. So let’s consider the restaurants around here. Are these authentic American? Well, the food is generally poorer than elsewhere in the city (with some notable exceptions), and many businesses operate on the principle of short-term gain. Customers will typically be passing tourists, and a good reputation is not a pre-requisite for survival as even the happy eaters will probably not return. Can we experience ‘authentic America’ here?

Christmas in New York

If you strike up a conversation with the waiter, you will probably learn about his journey to work. He may live in the Bronx or in eastern Brooklyn, and have a journey of an hour to get to work each day. He may have recently come to America from the Middle East, and tell you of his family; his children, how they are adjusting to American education, how his wife is lonely but has found fellow countrywomen to spend time with while he is at work. For him, this is the real America in which he is living.

It is similar in the most lavish hotels in India. Our first reaction may be to dismiss these as nothing to do with the ‘authentic India’. They are however very real for those who work in them and make a modest living servicing the tourist trade. And in my very limited experience in these places, the staff are very pleased when someone takes an interest in them as a human being, and the stories of their lives, their families and their aspirations are perhaps more readily available than they would have been with someone on the street. Again for these employees this was the real India in which they made a living and struggled to bring up their families.

Kyrgyz boy on horse

What is authentic? Is it that hard to find? Isn’t everything that goes on around us authentic in its own way? Isn’t it just up to us to see the reality around the gloss that is put on for our supposed benefit? Perhaps the authentic is far more real in the places that hold no pretentions, where people get on with their lives and treat us as we are: visitors/tourists/travellers, whatever we call ourselves, who have come to observe and hopefully for them dish out a few of our dollars. The authenticity comes not from a fancy costume or a traditional ritual, but from the willingness to share a little of one’s everyday life with a stranger.

“Take only photographs, leave only footprints”. I first saw this saying when arriving on a remote island in the Seychelles. It was written on a weather-beaten board and greeted us as we waded out of the warm water onto the pristine sandy beach. It seemed very apt, as we had taken a short boat ride across to enjoy a spot of sunbathing and would be back on the main island of Mahe before the day was out. The phrase is also used frequently in many national parks and environmentally sensitive areas. It neatly captures the philosophy that we should leave the place untouched once we have enjoyed our time there.

For the fragile environment of a national park, the advice may be sound. But I am inclined to disagree with this maxim when it comes to any visit that involves human interaction, and indeed it may be a counter-productive phrase in the battle against climate change.

We may travel halfway around the world to see a spectacular mountain or waterfall, to gamble or to drink in a famous bar. These are the attractions that entice people to take that trip. But isn’t it the case that once we are home, it is often the meetings with people along the way that become the most lingering legacy of our trip? That chance encounter with the English-speaking village teacher; or the old man who remembered his trip to our hometown some 40 years ago; or even our fellow tourists with whom we became great friends. These are the types of memories that remain for me long after the vivid recollection of the amazing sights has faded.

Knowing about the powerful potential of interactions with other people, I would be disappointed to have spent time with others, whether fellow visitors or local people, and not taken some knowledge of those people’s lives, beliefs and values, and perhaps shared a little of my own. I am thinking mainly about off-beat locations, where people are still interested in the visitors that arrive in their locality, but the same could apply anywhere. We can choose to gawp at people going about their lives, take some photographs and move on, having left no more than the proverbial footprints. But what is the point? Who have we benefitted by that exercise? Ironically, we have probably left a giant carbon footprint in order to take those photographs. Isn’t there a wasted opportunity here?

Fantastic hospitality from a group of social entrepreneurs in Manali

Travelling on big planes for long distances does have an environmental impact (let’s leave the arguments about the size of that impact aside here). I don’t want to stop travelling, and no amount of evidence or increased taxes will dampen my enthusiasm to see as much of the world as I can (although it may change how I choose to travel). Neither am I convinced in any way to ‘offset’ my guilt of contributing to global warming by paying some company to make a profit in the process of administering the diversion of a sum of my money to a token project elsewhere.

What I would like to do is to create the most positive effect I can, however small, as a result of my visit to another place. If I meet fellow tourists and share stories and ideas, speak with people from different cultures, religions or backgrounds and learn something about how they view the world we share, then my visit may have some value. If the time away from home enables me to learn something about myself that in turn changes the way I live at home for the better, then there may be a positive and lasting legacy. If, by being part of an interaction between people who may have harboured some prejudice, I play even a tiny part in creating a better level of tolerance and understanding, that can be one of the most memorable moments of a trip.

Experiences such as these will not offset the carbon footprint that we have created to reach our destinations. But they may have a positive social effect that at least creates a change for the better for ourselves and those we meet on our travels.

Think of India, and the chances are that the picture in your mind has a hot, sunny backdrop. That’s the India we all come to know. While we did experience this side of the country as well, my most memorable Indian moment is set in the heaviest snowfall I have ever experienced, and involves the best example of a can-do attitude that I have encountered.

We stayed in Manali in January last year. Many Indians might tell us we were crazy to go there at that of the year anyway. Manali is deep in a Himalayan valley in the state of Himachal Pradesh, and is over 2,000m above sea level. There is one road in and one road out. As we arrived the snow had started to fall, and our driver left us at our hotel the Solang Valley Resort, high above the town, to get to safer ground. And then it snowed. And snowed. And snowed.

We enjoyed a day in the beautiful valley, hiking, riding on a snowmobile and relaxing at the hotel. By the time we were due to leave, there was a steady accumulation of over a metre of snow around us. When we stepped out of our rooms to go around to get breakfast in the hotel restaurant, the snow was over our waists, and at one point almost up to my shoulders! The hotel had a problem. We were the only guests by then, and we were supposed to be checking out. No sign of our driver of course – nothing had travelled along the road for many hours. We had an eight hour drive to Shimla scheduled that day.

At no point did anyone suggest we would be stuck here. With a quiet confidence the hotel manager told us he was making the necessary arrangements. And so it transpired. After a couple of hours, three horses arrived. One for each of us, and one to carry our luggage. Off we trudged, down the mountain. The horses were not tall, and soon our legs were soaked and frozen, with the snow well above the height of our boots, and in fact covering the horses’ bellies. But they soldiered on, and after a couple of hours descending the hill, we were met by a Jeep that had been arranged to meet us as high up the mountain as the jeep could travel. This 4×4 then took us another 20km down the valley until we lost the snow completely, and there was our driver, who had anticipated the whole scenario and retreated to a point of safety in his “good weather” car. No fuss, no complaints, he greeted us with a smile and drove us on to Shimla, starting 8 hours behind schedule.

The staff at the hotel deserve full praise for their problem solving approach. Very few places in the world would have gone to such lengths to make this evacuation happen in such an effective (and exciting!) way. As does the driver, who took professionalism to a new level.

What price such a response in the UK?

(Jan 2008)

What makes our visit to Amritsar the highlight of India for me? Is it the striking golden structure perched as though floating on a serenely peaceful lake? Is it the sight of so many devoted pilgrims quietly absorbing the surroundings at the holiest site for the Sikh religion? Or even the lively hustle and bustle outside the temple of a big city that is less used to visitors than its counterparts further south, and more appealing for it?

For me, the truly unforgettable element of the Golden Temple experience was the pure and unconditional warmth and hospitality we received throughout our time there. From our entry to the complex we were greeted by so many people, who just wanted to give us their greetings. I didn’t see another western face while we were there, so I clearly stood out. Families asked us for photos, old men smiled and asked us where we were from, and all smiled and made us feel so welcome. Many pilgrims invited us to share food with them in the large food hall, an important part of the complex and an area where tens of thousands of people can be fed in a day. No-one was after our money in here – nothing was being sold. Only the wish to have us partake in the full experience of being a visitor to the centre of the Sikh faith.

There is a real peace and tranquility about the place, despite the mass of visitors passing through the site. Although not on the traditional “A list” of places to visit in India, if you do venture north to Amritsar, your efforts will be warmly rewarded.

(Jan 2008)