The kidnapping of Paul and Rachel Chandler by Somali criminals has recently returned to the news. They have now been prisoners for over four months and there is no sign that they will be released any time soon. It seems that the world is a dangerous place but how safe have my own travels been? Between 1999 and 2002 I travelled through dozens of countries, visiting most of the Americas and crossing Europe, North Africa and Asia by road. I only rarely felt any sense of threat, but was I deluding myself?
There had been instances in cities in the US where I had felt uncomfortable but all cities have areas where I feel uncomfortable, even my own. The first time that I was aware of danger was in Colombia, but there it was an intellectual rather than a visceral awareness. I knew of the danger solely because we had needed to change our plans. We had been advised not to drive down through Colombia and so we got to spend a week in the coastal resort of Cartagena and then fly to Ecuador. In spite of the warnings I didn't actually feel any particular sense of danger. There was another incident in La Paz where one of our party was mugged but I wasn't present and my impression of the city, and of Bolivia in general, was that it was quite safe.
Warnings never seem to have any great impact on me. I heed them and take the advice but they don't affect me emotionally. Years before, in New Orleans, my hotel room had leaflets telling me not to visit the park that was across the road as it wasn't safe for tourists. I didn't visit but I also didn't feel any threat from it. Similarly in Mexico city the hotel insisted that for our own safety we only booked taxis through reception and didn't take any of the ones touting on the street. Again I followed the advice and felt perfectly safe.
On my world tour, the first time I actually felt unsafe was in Peru where there was a distinct sense of low-level menace. It started when the tarpaulin on the roof of our truck was slit and various bags stolen while we were moving. That wasn't the end of it. More bags were stolen in Puno and one of my friends was robbed as we walked down the street. It was a slickly choreographed "razor" theft with the thieves bouncing out of a doorway and knocking him sideways as they slit his pocket and made off with the contents. As it happened the bulge that must have looked like a wallet was a roll of toilet paper. I expect they were rather disappointed with the haul. Nonetheless it was a violent encounter.
Still all these were minor annoyances rather than any great danger. That came for the first time when I was in Syria. We were driving and camping. One evening, running late, we left the main road and started to drive off in search of somewhere to pitch camp. As we followed a side road we saw in the distance what looked like a road block. We decided to turn around and find another route but before we could do so we were surrounded by armed men in a ragtag collection of military clothing. It was far too scruffy and ad-hoc to be genuine military and the way that they were pointing their rifles at us was seriously worrying. For ten minutes there was an increasingly tense exchange, and as we couldn't understand them and they couldn't understand us it seemed likely to end in real trouble. Then a jeep came bouncing down the road and someone who was in charge reined them back. With grunts and gestures he made it clear that we were to follow him back to the main road and then keep driving. We did and eventually camped, very nervously, in a disused quarry about twenty miles down the road.
The only other place that didn't feel at all safe was Pakistan. In the cities we were OK, staying in hotels, albeit rather ramshackle ones, but when camping we always had to camp in the grounds of police stations. On one occasion, one of the beautifully decorated lorries that fill the roads in that country, pulled up on the main road and two men started to approach us. We had assumed that the camping at police stations was a formality but before they had reached us two armed police had stepped between them and us and sent them packing. They were, the police told us, most likely bandits as the area was notorious for roadside robberies.
Now all of this makes my travelling sound terribly exciting and dangerous but the truth is that even in these incidents I never actually felt as if there was any real serious danger. Maybe that was my naivety rather than an accurate assessment of the situation but that's how I felt.
Nowadays though I watch the news and see that places where I felt completely safe are essentially no go areas. In Pakistan, one of those ramshackle hotels in Peshawar was about half a mile away from a recent terrorist bombing. Iran, a country where I met only polite courtesy from the locals is constantly in the news as a place too dangerous for tourists. Even Kashgar, a city in northern China famous for its market, has been under siege as the Chinese military try to quell unrest among the local ethnic people. Country after country that gave me no problem turns up as somewhere with a terrorist threat, or somewhere with civil unrest, or somewhere where there are unsafe levels of crime.
It makes me glad that I did my travelling when I did. I wonder if this rise in danger is real or perceived. After all, even when I was travelling there were threats. There had been terrorist attacks on tourists in Egypt only weeks before I was there. New Orleans had famously had a couple of British killed by criminals near that park opposite my hotel. I don't remember this level of constant drip-feed stories in the news though. I'm sure if there had been this kind of coverage I'd have had a lot more arguments from my father about the advisability of going at all.
I don't know if the world is more dangerous now but I do know that from the comfort of my living room it seems to be. I'd certainly think long and hard before undertaking my previous trips again.
There had been instances in cities in the US where I had felt uncomfortable but all cities have areas where I feel uncomfortable, even my own. The first time that I was aware of danger was in Colombia, but there it was an intellectual rather than a visceral awareness. I knew of the danger solely because we had needed to change our plans. We had been advised not to drive down through Colombia and so we got to spend a week in the coastal resort of Cartagena and then fly to Ecuador. In spite of the warnings I didn't actually feel any particular sense of danger. There was another incident in La Paz where one of our party was mugged but I wasn't present and my impression of the city, and of Bolivia in general, was that it was quite safe.
Warnings never seem to have any great impact on me. I heed them and take the advice but they don't affect me emotionally. Years before, in New Orleans, my hotel room had leaflets telling me not to visit the park that was across the road as it wasn't safe for tourists. I didn't visit but I also didn't feel any threat from it. Similarly in Mexico city the hotel insisted that for our own safety we only booked taxis through reception and didn't take any of the ones touting on the street. Again I followed the advice and felt perfectly safe.
On my world tour, the first time I actually felt unsafe was in Peru where there was a distinct sense of low-level menace. It started when the tarpaulin on the roof of our truck was slit and various bags stolen while we were moving. That wasn't the end of it. More bags were stolen in Puno and one of my friends was robbed as we walked down the street. It was a slickly choreographed "razor" theft with the thieves bouncing out of a doorway and knocking him sideways as they slit his pocket and made off with the contents. As it happened the bulge that must have looked like a wallet was a roll of toilet paper. I expect they were rather disappointed with the haul. Nonetheless it was a violent encounter.
Still all these were minor annoyances rather than any great danger. That came for the first time when I was in Syria. We were driving and camping. One evening, running late, we left the main road and started to drive off in search of somewhere to pitch camp. As we followed a side road we saw in the distance what looked like a road block. We decided to turn around and find another route but before we could do so we were surrounded by armed men in a ragtag collection of military clothing. It was far too scruffy and ad-hoc to be genuine military and the way that they were pointing their rifles at us was seriously worrying. For ten minutes there was an increasingly tense exchange, and as we couldn't understand them and they couldn't understand us it seemed likely to end in real trouble. Then a jeep came bouncing down the road and someone who was in charge reined them back. With grunts and gestures he made it clear that we were to follow him back to the main road and then keep driving. We did and eventually camped, very nervously, in a disused quarry about twenty miles down the road.
The only other place that didn't feel at all safe was Pakistan. In the cities we were OK, staying in hotels, albeit rather ramshackle ones, but when camping we always had to camp in the grounds of police stations. On one occasion, one of the beautifully decorated lorries that fill the roads in that country, pulled up on the main road and two men started to approach us. We had assumed that the camping at police stations was a formality but before they had reached us two armed police had stepped between them and us and sent them packing. They were, the police told us, most likely bandits as the area was notorious for roadside robberies.
Now all of this makes my travelling sound terribly exciting and dangerous but the truth is that even in these incidents I never actually felt as if there was any real serious danger. Maybe that was my naivety rather than an accurate assessment of the situation but that's how I felt.
Nowadays though I watch the news and see that places where I felt completely safe are essentially no go areas. In Pakistan, one of those ramshackle hotels in Peshawar was about half a mile away from a recent terrorist bombing. Iran, a country where I met only polite courtesy from the locals is constantly in the news as a place too dangerous for tourists. Even Kashgar, a city in northern China famous for its market, has been under siege as the Chinese military try to quell unrest among the local ethnic people. Country after country that gave me no problem turns up as somewhere with a terrorist threat, or somewhere with civil unrest, or somewhere where there are unsafe levels of crime.
It makes me glad that I did my travelling when I did. I wonder if this rise in danger is real or perceived. After all, even when I was travelling there were threats. There had been terrorist attacks on tourists in Egypt only weeks before I was there. New Orleans had famously had a couple of British killed by criminals near that park opposite my hotel. I don't remember this level of constant drip-feed stories in the news though. I'm sure if there had been this kind of coverage I'd have had a lot more arguments from my father about the advisability of going at all.
I don't know if the world is more dangerous now but I do know that from the comfort of my living room it seems to be. I'd certainly think long and hard before undertaking my previous trips again.
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