You drool over the alluring brochures. Ah, the pristine beaches. Elegant cafes. Spectacular mountain scenery. It all sounds great. Then you look at the fine print: the beaches are in the poverty-racked Gaza Strip, the cafes in bombed-out Dubrovnik, the mountains in war-torn eastern Turkey. They have got to be kidding.
But they're not. Witness the experience of British engineer David Rowbottom and his Australian cousin Tania Miller, who were entranced by the promise of dramatic vistas in Turkey until they found themselves staring down the gun barrels of insurgents from the Kurdistan Workers Party, a guerrilla group lately kidnapping tourists as part of its war for independence. After packing Rowbottom and Miller around the backcountry for five weeks to avoid searches by the Turkish army, the guerrillas freed the couple last week. Rowbottom and Miller expressed relief at being released alive and unharmed. They did not indicate, however, whether they had heard the Central Asian proverb "Travel is a foretaste of hell."
And so it can be -- especially for wanderers smitten by places they ought to think twice about: where quaint cultures run up against armored jeeps charging through city streets, where emergency travel kits had best include not just a bottle of Lomotil but also a bulletproof vest. The surprise is not that such dangers exist but that so many of the countries where they are commonplace want you to spend your vacation there. In the relentless quest for the tourist dollar, even places like Kashmir (400 civilians killed last month) and North Korea (no casualties, but why go?) are advertising their supposed charms. "Be a Chinese soldier for a day" gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "military tour." "Visit Shibam, famous for its exquisite Yemenite architecture." Oops, forgot to mention the bands of armed tribesmen who routinely kidnap Westerners. "Revel in the spectacular scenery of Vietnam's China Beach." Regret that most hotels are Stalinist-style tenements built by the Soviets.
Some of these unusual holiday destinations are paradise spots overtaken by war and now struggling to revive their once thriving tourist trades. Others have no such amenities but keenly understand that tourism can create jobs and raise cash faster than almost any other industry. And then there are those corners of the world that are saddled with unfortunate reputations yet offer fascinating, if decidedly inconvenient, experiences.
Venturing into a quasi-war zone such as Cambodia is a traveler's gamble. A group of Mexican tourists recently spotted in the lobby of Phnom Penh's sole luxury hotel were snapping pictures of a wooden model of Angkor Wat, the country's famous 9th century temple complex -- as close as they would get to the real thing. Just days before, Khmer Rouge guerrillas had attacked Siem Reap, the city next to the ruins, and the group's guide refused to go near the place. The Mexicans were forced to content themselves with Phnom Penh -- a city whose attractions include the Tuol Sleng Museum, a high school used as a torture chamber and prison during Pol Pot's reign. Tourists who do make it to Angkor Wat are repeatedly reminded to stay on the paths; hundreds of Khmer Rouge land mines are buried around the temples. It is also advisable to give the Kalashnikov-toting militia men "guarding" the complex a dollar or two for their services -- so they don't steal all your money.