As a
rule, I think the burning of books is a bad thing and in most circumstances I
would be inclined to stick my head above the parapet and voice my
objections. The one exception to this
rule, are guide books. My local library
has shelves upon shelves of the likes of The
Lonely Rough Guide to Upper Saxony, and Lets
Go Caravanning in the East Riding of Yorkshire and not a single edition of
a novel by the likes of Peter Carey, John Kennedy Toole, or Isabel
Allende. I accept that many people I
know who use my library
don’t share my taste in literature, but they tend to go on day trips to
Cleethorpes rather than visit the superb wineries of Mendoza.
I’ve
done a bit of travelling and it always amazes me how reliant my fellow
travellers are on these books. With
possible exception of a change of clean underwear and a toothbrush, they are
regarded as the most essential requirement of the independent traveller.
In my
experience as soon as a restaurant gets listed in the Lonely Planet you are no longer greeted by the gracious host
Antonio in a manner that a major Hollywood star would expect, and shown to
table with magnificent views of the Monte de Santa Maria Novella and sold
seafood that fancy LA restaurants can only dream of serving for less than the
price of a pint of milk. You are now
expected to wait for half an hour, whilst Paulo who is on the Italian equivalent
of an Italian work experience programme, finishes texting his mates, before
showing you to a table in a very small room, which was formally Antonio’s
grandmothers lavatory, where you are served food that wouldn’t be out of place
in a Burger King Happy Meal for the price of what is the GDP of medium sized
African country.
Furthermore,
these places are jammed packed with other independent tourists. If I wanted to spend time I could the train
down to St Pancras and go and hang out in some bar in Camden rather than jetting off around the
world.
In my view, much of the advice given to travelers is
not sound. I accept that walking around
the Vatican City topless or setting up a
heroin export business in Bangkok
is possibly going to get you into trouble.
I remember reading in one of these guidebooks, that you should not under
any circumstances consider hitch hiking in New Zealand. You may be offered a lift by a group of young
men echo are off their heads on some from amphetamine where all the ‘healthy’
chemicals have been removed or by a German tourist drives like Michael
Schumacher and is unsure which side of road to travel on. This book contained a list of must do things
in NZ, which included ‘doing’ the Tongariro and bungee jumping in Taumatawhakatangihangakoauauotamateapokaiwhenuakitanatahu. I suspect that the probability of something
unfortunate happening to you are far greater if you happen to be stood on top
of very active volcano or if you throw yourself headfirst from a very high
bridge attached only to rubber band.
Some of the best times |I had in New Zealand were when I was
hitching. I got put up for the night,
taken to deserted beaches that were completely off the radar of the guide books
and was taught how to fish.
I love books and would hate to see them replaced by Kindles, however when it comes to these guidebooks I would rather consult one of the many travel blogs or checkout an online issue of the local newspaper. The best people to get under the skin of place are those who actually live there. And then you could always then spend the money you have saved by purchasing novel. In my view investing £10 in Carlos Ruiz Zafón’s Shadow of the Wind or Orwell’s Homage to Catalonia is a much better investment than spending £20 on the Lonely Rough Guide to Barcelona
Finally,
if you are walking 800km of the Camino de Santiago you don’t need to be
carrying something that weighs slightly less than your average sized brick
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