Travel: An Article about Travel or The Travel Article
‘If you think adventure is dangerous, try routine, it’s lethal’ (Paul Coelho)
I first travelled in 2005 in what could be considered a pre-internet age. In terms of information that was readily-available, would-be travellers obtained knowledge by more conservative means: travel agents, word-of-mouth, and the world-renowned Lonely Planet travel guide - the essential guide book stuffed reassuringly into backpacks the world over.
The Lonely Planet in the mid- Noughties was the backpacker’s bible, a comfort blanket for the crossroads. The sole aim of the Lonely Planet, still in circulation, seemed to be to make the planet a less lonely place. They achieve this through a dedicated team of contributors who traverse the world and report back. But even without a fully functioning internet, even sans Trip Advisor, the information available in 2005 was already too much.
There is nothing wrong with the Lonely Planet or travel books generally - they actually seem quaint compared to today’s online maelstrom of competing travel companies, ruthless advertisers, and obsessive tourism boards professing to some essential knowledge that no-one else has acquired, all desperate to tell the world and the next generation of traveller that there’s no place quite like the one they’re selling (just hand over a small fortune and they’ll enlighten you). To reach for the guide book and not immediately consult google is a radical step backwards into the travelling world of yesteryear. It also avoids the dubious nature, the contentiousness, the questionable credibility of the scathing Trip Advisor review, of which there are many. But the issue with guide books, and specifically travel writers - who crucially have no commercial angle, and whose vocation exists predominantly to report openly and without prejudice on the places they visit - is that the writing can only reflect one individual’s experience; it can only describe the impact a place had on them and them alone.
A writer could enthusiastically portray an evening at the Darwin night markets on Mindil Beach, for example; it was the perfect summer evening; there was an array of independent stalls; the wonderful aroma of culturally-diverse culinary delights emanating from food stalls wafted through the air; the sun set dreamily over the Timor Sea. They could accurately describe Darwin as the gateway to the expansive national parks of Litchfield and Kakadu; the close proximity of the city to culturally-rich Arnhem Land, with its historical significance to the Aboriginal people, and they wouldn’t be wrong. But the personal experience (besides the geographical facts) is just that: personal; unique; unliveable by others. Travel writing is an idealistic construct based on the experiences of one. You yourself could venture to said night market in the hopes of replicating the experience of the writer. You could be unwittingly mugged; you could lose your shoes escaping an unexpected thunderstorm and fall flat on your face on a rock; you could drive to Kakadu the next day and break down halfway, stranded on the highway. It could become a Wolf Creek* situation.
Naturally, a travel writer could also have an adverse experience in a particular place that negatively impacts the article they choose to write. The reader is then unenthused by the place and understandably avoids it at all costs (unless they belong to the niche group of people who seek out dangerous places). This negative effect can be multiplied by a thousand when applied online, and herein lies the danger - generally people have more trust in a published article than the rantings of an one-star online review, but people are far more likely to read the online review than go out and pay for the published book. A particular hostel in Melbourne, which will remain nameless, was the most soulless hostel I ever stayed in, yet I wouldn’t have gone there if I had consulted google beforehand - the comic failings of the damp, lifeless, tragic hostel could not have been told. Although I wasted no time in checking out the next morning, I wouldn’t change the experience - if I hadn’t stayed there the ‘worst hostel I stayed in’ tag would simply be awarded to the second-worst establishment. There are many outcomes when travelling, and many possibilities, and that is why the act of travelling is best undertaken with no preconceptions. This is hard to do in 2020 when, besides those savage reviews, there is so much noise, so many picture-perfect, candid-camera, edge-of-cliff ‘moments’ projected all over Instagram. Today’straveller should ignore the noise, treat it as an opportunity for online detox, travel to see the world (not to show the world what is seen), and do things the internet and it’s contributors can’t provide. There is a timeless Chinese proverb - ‘Don’t listen to what they say. Go see.’ This encapsulates the true essence of travel.
I spent 11 months in Australia and a month travelling home (via various countries). During that time I heard the term ‘opportunity of a lifetime’ frequently. I heard it from other backpackers, from people I met, from people at home. I never liked the phrase. It was a loaded phrase, too pressurising and kitsch. As I get older I understand it better. Some things are better understood retrospectively. It was a year that shaped me, made me look at things differently, and made me appreciate the experience long after it happened, an appreciation that eclipses my outlook at the time. Travel is best appreciated after the fact, at times when, like the quote at the start of this article, daily routine takes hold and the opportunity for new experiences is more limited. Travel is the antithesis of routine. It introduces aspects of life and intensifies them by the nature of what it is to travel. It is joy and adversity. It challenges and presents new opportunity. It reassures and it causes self-doubt. It questions identity. It has the ability to transform one’s place in the world. It ensures that every experience is unique. In short, it unlocks the possibility for endless opportunity outside the average monotony of daily life.
*Wolf Creek is a 2005 Australian horror film based loosely on actual events. It follows the story of three backpackers who, after their vehicle breaks down in the outback, are kidnapped and tortured by a sadistic maniac. It is not advisable to watch this film before driving long distances in rural Australia.
Written by Luke Whewall
Luke is a thirty-something living in exile on the Bedminster/Southville border. Luke was born in Barnsley. His grandfather was a miner. Luke was born in the 80s, grew up in the 90s, and reached some form of adulthood in the 00s. Luke graduated in English. His passions include (but are not limited to): dogs; books; Barnsley Football Club; hedgehogs (RIP Winona; 2016-2019); Italy; coffee; pizza; the NHS; anything ever recorded by Bradford J. Cox.
This piece has been illustrated by a guest artist, Henar. You can find more of her incredible work on her Instagram.