5 Things Travel Writers Don't Tell You

5 Things Travel Writers Don't Tell You

Before quitting my job to travel, I worked at roughguides.com for two years and before that as a features editor at Asian Woman and Asian Bride magazines. During this time, I noticed that some common themes and phrases emerged in the travelogues I read: guests always enjoyed "hearty fare," cabins were always "between" something, and seas were always made of "azure waters" (I blame myself for that last one).

Much less often did I come across texts that offered a more raw insight into the travel experience - and it was always refreshing when I did. In reality, traveling isn't always amazing. Sometimes it's downright disappointing, but we rarely admit that. Here are five truths that travel writers don't like to tell you.

“The place I visited was a bit crap”

Travel writers are paid to sell a dream, be it of vibrant Greek seas or desolate Icelandic landscapes. Her pieces tell of vibrant markets full of bright colors, of charming street children selling their wares, of older gentlemen dozing on verandas. They paint a desirable picture with the goal of inspiring you to go there, or at least want to go there - after all, why would you cover a destination just to tell readers to avoid it?

On the rare occasions that it happens (like this article about Marrakesh), it is not only refreshing but also far more informative and entertaining than a love letter full of superlatives. Often you will find out the truth more easily from bloggers (like in this article about Vietnam) as they are generally not restricted from maintaining relationships with tourist boards and tour operators.

One step above is what I call the “Bear Grylls Treatment”. This is where a writer creates tension to add drama to his story. Michael Crichton's "Travels" is a classic example: In it, the late author talks about climbing Kilimanjaro, navigating tiny African towns, camping near elephants, and diving in the open sea as if they were life-threatening endeavors. In truth, Peter did all of these things and they were hard, but not that hard.

“The people I met weren’t that interesting”

Peter and I sat on a balcony overlooking the azure waters of Savusavu (sorry, couldn't help it). Dusk had fallen and the air smelled of burning wood. It was one of those nights that required few words, so we sat and watched the waves in silence.

We were soon joined by a backpacker friend - let's call him Mark - with whom we had the usual exchange (where we were, how long we were in Fiji, where we wanted to go next). When he heard we were going to Tonga his eyes lit up. "Oh, you have to visit 'Eua. I spent time there with a great family." He reached over and picked up the South Pacific guide that lay on the table. He flipped through it, turned to Tonga, and then gave us a 40-minute lecture about where to go and what to see (including all the amazing village leaders he met and the "real" Tongans he spent his time with).

Our polite attempts to contain the lecture fell on deaf ears until Peter finally stood up and said, "Wow, thanks, that's a lot of information. I'm starving, so we'll probably get something to eat."

Travel writers insist that you'll meet "amazing people" on your travels, but sometimes that's just not true. In fact, most of the time it's not true (unless your bar for "amazing" is unusually low). We've met amazing people on our travels and we've met amazing people, but truly "amazing" people are few and far between.

“I ignore my own advice”

Any employed travel writer will tell you to take malaria pills if you're in a malaria country, get travel insurance, pack a change of clothes in your carry-on, and so on and so forth. Well, when I visited Cambodia in 2010 (and wrote a related travel article about it), I didn't take malaria pills, even though I traveled across the country. This is what the malaria map for Cambodia looks like:

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In the end I was fine, but the point is that I didn't listen to my own advice. When Peter and I arrived at Faleolo International Airport in Samoa this week and learned that Fiji Airways hadn't loaded our backpacks, we only had the clothes on our backs (and Peter didn't even have a toothbrush). This is contrary to what any experienced traveler – including us – will tell you. What we won't tell you is that we become complacent. We leave our passports in our backpacks instead of in the hostel safe, we don't always share our cash, and we often assume our luggage will arrive safely.

“Sometimes I prefer to snoop around on my laptop”

Okay, aside from the fact that no one says “Pootle” anymore, it’s true that sometimes we just want to sit inside and check Facebook or Twitter or Buzzfeed. Even if we spent 17 hours on a boat getting to a secluded cove that looks like heaven, we want to sit inside and glance at Facebook. When the lush green trees stir in the wind and the white sand sweeps with the sweetest echoes, we want to sit inside and take a look at Facebook. Basically, we all want to be online - more carpe dongle than carpe diem.

“I wear my panties inside out”

“What are you going to do about WASH?” Read my little sister's text and use capital letters to represent this impossible task. “Um, what I do at home: wash my clothes once a week,” I typed back. Oh, the optimism and naivety. Every week? In reality, I'm too busy exploring caves, climbing volcanoes, and sailing through the sky (and, yes, looting on my laptop). Every week just isn't practical, especially when you're dealing with shared bathrooms with questionable hygiene. Therefore, some compromises have to be made every now and then. Not always, mind you, but sometimes...

Mission statement: Atlas & Boots

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