review – lost on planet china

J. Maarten Troost is a curious sort of traveler. Willing to endure the various waterborne intestinal afflictions encountered during his stay in the South Pacific, he’s not a typical tourist. So what better place to continue his exploits than in, say, China?  Specifically, his curiosity, like that of many, is to discern just exactly what the Chinese context is.  His latest book, Lost on Planet China, intriguingly relays his intrepid dispatches.

It is a wonderfully gonzo experience, one that readers may come away thinking how glad they are that someone other than themselves took the time to do this.  For readers will encounter, through Troost’s initial perceptions, that China is the preeminently overpopulated & polluted, tightly controlled yet super-industrialized nation in the world today.  That being said, all your perceptions of China are still wrong, because China is different.  It is the most complex, contradictory, and rapidly changing country in the world.  And because of this, it is impossible to gauge the Chinese experience from a Western perspective.

Troost surrenders himself to a China left un-traveled by most laowais (foreigners).  Some of his more curious destinations include the windy and dusty streets of Beijing (the Gobi is subtly encroaching), stumbling upon an endangered species black market in Guangzhou (incidentally where SARS is rumored to start), to the seemingly separate kingdoms of Shanghai, Hong Kong & Macau, to deathly day hikes at the Tiger Leaping Gorge, hearing karaoke in a state-sponsored Shangri-La, the frighteningly alien plateau of Tibet, and the frozen northern borders with Russia and North Korea.

Despite Troost’s unavoidable preoccupations with the crowds, unhealthy air and the ever-present Communist grip, his observations of China really point to the country as being otherworldly.  And despite there being so many diverse provinces and minorities adding to his inability to fully communicate, despite the harsh exertion of the ever-present big brother, Troost does discover the human connection, whether exchanging smiles with an old farmer on a crowded midnight train or being happily fed by a street vendor in Xi’an’s Muslim Quarter.

So as Troost’s Chinese experience starts to reach its conclusion, the reader may acknowledge in his writing a sense of fulfillment, perhaps harmony, as his sojourn winds down in the cold northern wilds of Harbin.  Despite the temperature, he feels the warmth in his visit to the local Siberian Tiger preserve; literally fishing for tigers with live chickens, his Chinese context slowly blooms upon a fascinating chance encounter within the North Korean neutral zone.  Everything, as the saying goes, is not only relative but foreign. Excellent read.

review

In his book Do Travel Writers go to Hell?, intrepid traveler Thomas Kohnstamm does a fascinating job of weighing his own addiction of travel with the highly unreasonable expectations that are associated with being a guidebook travel writer. Also, Kohnstamm admirably demolishes the popular conception that travel writing is some sort of dream job; his consistently neurotic analysis of the futile planning, budgeting and writing for Lonely Planet, or any guidebook publisher for that matter is not only sobering, but warranted for those blinded by their travel-induced naivete.

Kohnstamm begins by disclaiming his addiction to travel and the atypical circumstances in which he decides to pursue it as a career. He subsequently embarks on his adventure to cover northeastern Brasil’s most likely and unlikely tourist destinations (on behalf of Lonely Planet) and the people he meets along the way. It is here that one arrives at a recurring theme throughout the book: it is not necessarily the places one visits but the people met that makes the story worthwhile.

Insufficient stipends and unreasonable deadlines are just two of the variables obstructing Kohnstamm’s progress. Throw in a constant stream of Brasilian cachaca, drugs, late nights/early mornings, the gamut of intestinal illnesses, opportunistic thugs as well as the usual bribery schemes (among all the players), and it is no wonder that the journey itself is truly the thing.

The book, however, is not simply a retelling of Kohnstamm’s escapades. It does raise a lot of questions even for the novice traveler. He ponders the implications of cultural relativism, the apparent lawlessness and corruption, as well as the increasing commercialization and urbanization of Brasil at the expense of its history and identity. Not to mention the fringe benefits of writing positive reviews, especially if those reviews are generated by the favors exhibited on behalf the restaurant or hotel one is writing about.

If there was one thing I regretted about the book, apart from my envy, it is Kohnstamm’s overindulgence at the expense of his craft. Granted, his wild nights performing “research” forces harried and slightly unethical writing; however, the descriptions of his supporting characters would subsequently suffer. Therein lies the dilemma: is this a travel writing book or a book about travel writing? The lines aren’t always clear.

Kohnstamm does well to capture the sweltering zeitgeist of Northeastern Brasil and the plight of the travel writer, thereby leaving the reader with a nuanced yet realistic depiction of the industry, and tells a captivating story while doing so. His advice: if you really love to travel, think twice about making it your occupation.

review

I find that travel writing is one of the best ways to attune to one’s inner gonzo.  Perhaps it’s best explained by the saying truth is stranger than fiction.  Indeed, the mere experience of finding yourself in sand-swept Nouakchott, Mauritania, just after leaving a comfy flat in Amsterdam can hammer home said reality is a fine feeling to savor.

Especially from the comfort of a good book, which is what My Mercedes is Not for Sale: From Amsterdam to Ouagadougou…an Auto Mis-adventure across the Sahara delivers.  Jeroen van Bergeijk tells the story of his seemingly innocuous quest to deliver his car, a Mercedes-Benz 190 D through Saharan Africa in a grand quest to…wait for it…sell it.

But it is so much more than that.  After a brief introduction to the culture of Mercedes-Benz as well as his own car, he immediately takes the reader to the dust, deception, poverty, corruption and overall culture of Western Africa and its obsession with the automotive throwaways of Europe. Peppered with the historical outlook of various historical/literary visitors such as James Riley, Mungo Park, and Antoine de Saint-Exupery, the culture becomes more engrossing.  It’s a comedic, frightening, even meaningful romp through countries like Morocco, Mauritania, Senegal, Ghana, Mali, Togo and Burkina Faso in search of some adventure as well as a quick sale.

The great thing about this book is that it’s not geared toward the hardcore car enthusiast, but rather the culture of someplace deemed exotic or authentic; the car is merely the vehicle, ahem, of such authenticity.  Which is, he states, in the spirit of Pirsig’s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance (to which he often refers), the act of trying to grasp the essence of a place.  As the book progresses, he seems to get a whole lot of it, perhaps more than he bargains for.

Africa’s authentic essence is timelessness.  “Things in Africa come in two forms,” he states, “broken and not broken”.  With the insistence that life is thus lived according to the phrase “god willing” or “inshallah”, time really has no place here.  He states that for these people, there is no future; everything, every decision is done for the moment for survival.

This sentiment is evident through all characters encountered along the way, from the ever-predictable corrupt border officials (regardless of country), to roving bands of car thieves and drug traffickers, desert guides, car merchants/repairmen, to everyday citizens looking to employ the fine art of finagling or chep-chep, just to make their daily ends meet.

But aside from the corruption, poverty and lawlessness, van Bergeijk also finds a sense of serenity and exquisite freedom in his journey.  Meeting colorful tourists and expats along the way he realizes how Africa is a destination for people running away from something, that it has comfort to offer.

In the end, this is an extremely fast and engaging read about an often overlooked area of the world in which is found an essence that’s worth deeper examination.  It truly is an authentic work, well worth reading.