Off Beat
Backroad Travel
Molly Caddesi
Insights from Turkey
Ken's Coast
Life in Lotus Land
Love Edward
Inner Journeys
Off Beat
Backroad Travel
by Brad Zembic
Yerevan, Armenia © Brad ZembicYears ago I was sipping chai with a young American woman in a Fez, Morocco souq. I was 20 years old and dressed in a peak-hooded galabiya given to me as a gift by the manager at my hotel. “I've heard of your type,” she said knowingly. “You live like the people.” The image of being “in” with the locals, one who understands their culture, eats their food and drinks their folk brew was romantic. I never attained that stature, though I did crave it. As an outsider anywhere but my own country all I can hope for is some insight into the lives of those that share our planet and some experiences that add some colour to my otherwise ordinary life. Taking small risks and venturing off the beaten trail offers me the opportunity.
A Tatev Freeway © Brad ZembicRecently I enjoyed a long-wanted visit to a place I knew I wouldn't have to suffer mobs of tourists. Armenia has fascinated me since I was a child. My attraction is rooted in Armenia's Hollywood ambassador Mike Connors from the 1960s and 1970s TV series “Mannix.” Talk show interviews with Connors stuck in my brain. Perhaps it was what he'd said about the Armenians' flamboyant culture – much more fascinating than the suburban Winnipeg one I grew up in. It may have been all his talk of the Armenian genocide that stirred my interest. After all, my brothers and I were troublesome teenagers at the time, and it seemed obvious that my parents were contemplating a similar fate for us.
Whatever was the foundation for my interest, forty years later I aimed for Armenia. Travel literature on this far-off place described it as land whose crime rate was comparable to that of an uninhabited island somewhere in the South Pacific. That sounded like just the place to do something I have always wanted to do – simply, to walk through mountains Julie Andrews-like, sharing high fives with the yokels and feeling utterly alive.
Tatev Monastery © Brad ZembicSo, to Istanbul to enjoy my friend Molly's legendary hospitality; then a cheap air ticket to Batumi, Georgia, the least-expensive option for travelling from Turkey to Armenia. Finally a long bus ride through Georgia to Yerevan, Armenia's well-kept capital city. The Georgian terrain on our route was arid, rugged and mountainous, the people dour-looking and suspicious – not at all the image I had of Georgians from what I'd read. My goal was the 9th century Tatev Monastery, a series of churches perched on a lofty ledge of land overlooking the Orotan River in southeast Armenia. I'd spend some time touring the historic site, and then fill my rucksack with provisions and hoof it down the twisting road that runs through a forested valley connecting Tatev village with the city of Karpan.
Trouble is I have always been a tentative adventurer: I want to be off the beaten path seeing the real country, meeting the real people, but when I get to my point of departure, I modify my plan to one that feels less complicated and more safe – and consequently, promises less fun. I felt this trip was going to be different, a breakthrough from years of wimping out.
At Tatev village, I sought out the best bed-and-breakfast and settled into a long sleep after a long journey. In the early hours of the morning, my host fed me a hearty breakfast of homemade bread, local honey, yogurt and farm-fresh eggs (the flavour of which awakened taste buds long thought dead), and then wished me a fond farewell. I stepped into rural Armenia, certain that my intrepid nature would prevail.
Armenians on Holiday © Brad Zembic“Be careful,” the woman called from her doorstep. “Some tourists were robbed last week along the road.” My idea of Armenia as a haven from crime had been all but gunned down.
I trundled down the hill, past the monastery and the little café that serves up an emir's bounty of local favourites, beneath the towers of humming electrical wires and past the bleating sheep whose ancestors likely were witnesses to invasions by Selcuks and Mongols. I was as giddy as Marco Polo might have been in anticipation of the discoveries that lay ahead.
The air was breathless and the sky, though clear of cloud cover, was hidden behind a low-lying mist; I could barely see the road beneath my feet. The only sound to disturb the blissful silence was the occasional bird song. As I neared the river, I became alerted to the rhythmic clopping of hooves on gravel. Ghostlike, a donkey cart laden with hay emerged from the mist. It's slow appearance and disappearance added to the morning magic.
I had been negligent about packing water or snacks, since my map of the region indicated a village only five kilometres from Tatev. I was fresh, my pack was light, and should I need civilization, I knew it was only a short hike away. As time flowed, though, my thirst increased and it became evident that I'd missed the village – either it had been too small for eyesight or it had been down a side road somehow concealed. I stopped a passing car, hoping for insight. The driver gestured that Aghvani, the next village, was still a distance off. He then turned outright nasty when I graciously refused his offer of a lift. Perhaps this was the man who had robbed the tourists the previous week. He huffed off, spinning gravel.
Chamomile Hunt © Brad ZembicA while later, and far further down the road, I stopped another car. The driver's wife spoke excellent English and cautioned me that any place to buy food was at least a day's walk. Her offer of a lift to the next village I didn't refuse. My hosts were a family of Armenians living in Chechnya who were visiting relatives. And a fine family they were. The two English-speaking daughters in the back seat filled me in about their family history and gave me a verbal tour of the area. Grandma sitting next to them smiled warmly and nodded her head.
“You mustn't walk alone here,” one of the girls warned when I told her I planned to walk the desolate road as far as Kapan. “There are bears!” The light of adventure that had been burning inside me doused like a match in a puddle. Whoever heard of bears in Armenia?
The girls were animated and excited to have picked up someone with whom they could practice their English. On occasion their grandmother tapped her son-in-law's shoulder and ordered him to pull over so she could pick wild chamomile for tea. I was seeing the country from the inside, after all. In such good company my valour returned.
When we arrived at Aghvani, though, my heart sank. It was decrepit and muddy from rain; homes appeared ramshackle, and loose livestock seemed everywhere. In addition, residents were dressed poorly – perhaps because they were poor. The comfort seeker in me didn't protest when the patriarch of the family announced there'd be little food there and continued driving. A few hours later I found myself in Kapan, a week of trekking in rural bliss and brushing shoulders with the locals given up to billboards, angry commuters, exhaust-belching lorries and urban sprawl.
But though I played it safe and jumped a ride at nearly the first opportunity, my few hours with this Armenian family far off the beaten trail gave me all that I'd hoped for in a vacation.
Images edited by Kamer Guzel
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In this day and age it's difficult to have a zero impact on our environment while travelling, unless you walk or cycle (but what about the disintegrating rubber from tires…?). So taken that air travel may be your only choice to get to farflung places, it's prudent to check out airline reviews before you fork out your hard-earned cash for a ticket or put your life on the line.
Surfing the review sites recently after an abysmal journey to South Africa on Spain's Iberia Airlines, I was unsurprised to find that the reputation of my airline of choice soared well below many of its competitors. A Skytrax review of airlines gave the Spanish flag-carrier a low-flying 3.3/10 from over 500 customer reviews. Complaints ranged from surly flight attendants to chronic lates. My own consisted of lack of fresh air (a situation I believe was responsible for the chest infection I contracted) and forever lost baggage (an incident from which the airline exonerated themselves of blame and the responsibility of recompense). Had I done my research and not allowed the saving of a few dollars to cloud my judgement, I may have come out richer in the long run. I may also have enjoyed my travel experience of being deep in the South African veld far more than I was able. That said, on-line research does seem to come with reliability issues.
Cruising through Skytrax, one of the most popular airline review sites, I was able to read customer opinions of everything from seat pitch to airport lounge comfort. Being aware of the commercialization of information, I checked further into the site to find out just how trustworthy they really are. The site reports that their "editorial scrutiny and authenticity checks prevent fake airline reviews and stops 'reputation management' techniques from trying to skew ratings. 1 Not so, say posts on TripAdvisor that suggest Skytrax doctors review submissions and should not be trusted. 2 Posters on a Business Traveller discussion forum imply the same – that Skytrax reviews are sometimes distorted. 3 The British Daily Mail increases review turbulence by reporting the possibility that other major sites had their "fair share of fake reviews." 4
So whom are we supposed to trust when websites give such conflicting information about airline quality, safety and value? There's really nothing like personal experience to keep you flying favourite airlines–or avoiding ones that have treated you poorly. In terms of airline safety, though, you may want something less first-hand.
For those who don't actually know anyone who has suffered an airline accident, Airsafe.com gives up-to-date information on plane crashes and a plethora of other issues related to the air travel industry. These include documentation of airplane near misses, airport security, and even baggage tips. A plus for this site is that you can check events by individual airline. A more comprehensive site is the Aviation Safety Network (aviation-safety.net), a site that describes air traffic incidents down to the type of engine of a fallen aircraft. The site even publishes images and the results of event investigations. Reviews can be viewed in seven different languages.
This was all helpful when I was once considering flying Kenya Airways from Europe to South Africa. With a death count of nearly three hundred souls in the past decade, it became my last choice for flying the friendly, or sometimes hostile and dangerous, skies. 5 I wish I'd been more research savvy when I was booking my ticket on Iberia. Next trip.
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Former Winnipeg boy Brad Zembic just can't seem to sit still, which is probably why he calls so much of the world home. While nourishing his obsession for travel, his forays to places off the tourist trail have given him insight and appreciation of our planet's extraordinary people and places.
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Toggle the tabs below to read more of Brads ColumnsI knew a teacher who, everyday after school, drove to a forest trail and did a three-kilometre run. "A challenge is better than a rest to rejuvenate the old batteries," he explained when I asked him where he got the energy to exercise after a hard day working with enthusiastic teenagers. With summer swiftly approaching, our minds may be drifting to vineyards in Tuscany, buffets of French pastry and beaches on Maui. Go ahead, I say. Play it safe. Amble the well-trodden tourist trails that millions walk every year. Or challenge yourself and escape to a place you've always been attracted to but never thought you'd have the opportunity—or the courage—to visit.
Most people who dream of the exotic places are nervous about crime, disease, civil strife or a litany of other factors that could turn a long-awaited holiday into a vacation from hell. Aside from the obvious trouble spots, though—Iraq, for example—most of the world is less dangerous than you might imagine. It's time to break away from the idea of developing nations as being unhygienic disease banks populated with murderers and terrorists, and to see them for what they truly are—magnificent lands with fascinating cultures and, for the most part, amazingly hospitable people.
Case in point: Initially, I'd only been lukewarm to the notion of a four-week sojourn in Egypt, a country where, in 1997, seventy foreign tourists were gunned down by extremists outside the Temple of Hatshepsut, near Luxor. But the land of the pharaohs is an absurdly cheap place in which to travel, and I've always been a sucker for a meal that costs less than a coke here in Canada. I pondered for weeks whether to make the journey. After all, if anti-Western interests didn't get me, I'd be easy picking for the local hawkers, who, I was told, view foreigners as nothing more than wallets with legs. During the beginning of my holiday, I was almost psychotic with worry about being scythed into pieces, ripped off or kidnapped. I didn't realize how much my attitude was preventing me from connecting with everyday Egyptians, many who simply wanted to show the best of their country. Consequently, what was to have been a trip of a lifetime was turning into horror story, but only in my head.
It wasn't until I tried to avoid some overly eager street vendors by slipping into a Luxor juice bar that I allowed the magic of the Nile to flow into me. On entering the bar, I was greeted by a young, angelic-looking man dressed in a flowing, white galabiya. People shouted juice orders, and blenders filled with sliced fruit buzzed like miniature chainsaws. Through the din, I heard a melodic voice emanating from the shop's CD player. I was mesmerized by the singer's deep voice and asked the angel mixing drinks for the artist's name. It was the moment that helped defined my entire experience of Egypt. Mohammed, until then only vaguely interested in the frenzied foreigner who had ducked into his establishment for a 40-cent glass of orange juice, beamed me a smile as broad as a crescent moon. "It is Mohammed Sadik El Minshowi!" he proclaimed proudly, "He is reciting verses of the Holy Qur'an."
My interest in the spiritual life of the juice seller's homeland sparked a heart-felt conversation on Islam and the beauty of religious music. It also instilled in me an awareness that all is not what it seems, that despite the scary newspaper reports and anecdotal stories that make their rounds, even the most precarious countries can be worthwhile visiting. That isn't to say that harm may not befall someone who keeps their billfold in their back pocket, is undiscerning about what and where they eat and drink or doesn't keep an open eye; there will always be misfortune and treachery, even in the most paradisiacal holiday locations. But getting beyond the anxiety can open up a whole new world.
So, when thinking about where to go on vacation this year, consider the alternatives to herd destinations—regions where tourists by the thousands converge. Robert Mugabe's Zimbabwe, thought unsafe due to the wacky politics, is empty of tourists. Yet those who go there are overwhelmed by the friendliness of the people. Istanbul, situated in an earthquake zone—and a favourite dream of many would-be adventurers—offers a intriguing blend of European and Asian cultures; Peru, a country whose cities have crime rates that are among the highest on the planet, promises Inca ruins, steamy jungles and lofty cloud forests.
Despite fears of racial violence, natural calamity and peril, most people who trek off the beaten path return with tales that serve to whet the travel appetite of everyone around them. So when it's time to commit to a holiday, think longer about your options. If, indeed, a challenge is better than a rest, choosing a more exotic destination might be just the ticket you need to actually enhance your life rather than merely help you to relax. Or, you can simply keep on dreaming.
