Wish you were here...…or thankful you're not? Elinor Zuke books a
last minute trip to the danger zone.

  By Elinor Zuke
  Open Democracy | August 10, 2005
  http://www.opendemocracy.net/globalization/danger_tours_2745.jsp      
        

It's already August, and I am still in London. My friends, on the
other hand, are variously busking their way around central Europe,
continuing the work with the NGO they set up in Guatemala aged 19, and
exploring Malaysia.

Maybe I'd be fulfilled with a deckchair and an ice-cream, but such a
break is overshadowed by the knowledge that, in a month or so, I'll
have to admit to my colleagues that I chose Bognor. I experienced no
exotic cultures, I had no epiphanies, and nothing changed my world
perception. I just tried all the new Magnum flavours, and wore a hat.

With a growing trend for vacations in perilous climes, my choice of
destination would certainly not impress during post-holiday chats
around the water cooler. And so it is that I must succumb to
peer-pressure and find an original experience, an authentic one, brave
and preferably devoid of pleasure, to prove my intellectual worth.

I already have a South-America-envy complex, jealously attacking
anyone who's done the Inca Trail. I feel deeply roused to inform them
about the far superior, but less-visited unspoiled ruins in the Sacred
Valley down the road (which they must have missed) or to insist that a
visit to Bolivia was much more rewarding anyway.

I could up my kudos further with tales of a downhill ride on Bolivia's
"death road". What could provide a more impressive anecdote than one
detailing the exhilaration I experienced hurtling down an unmade
third-world road on a top-of-the-range mountain bike? Especially when
hundreds have fallen 1000m to their death from said road, in minibuses
with poor suspension? What dilemma could be more deliciously
self-indulgent to post on a live travel blog than the one deciding
whether or not to ride?

Surely not much could trump being one of only 9,000 annual visitors to
the Kingdom of Bhutan? Near impossible to access and entirely without
public transport, I picture myself with beautiful, photogenic locals
in their national costume. Posing underneath the unique architecture
of a Dzong castle, smiling, serene with Buddhist philosophy. Hell,
they even do mountain-biking tours! Never mind that behind the
national-dress lies the violently enforced nationalism of the Druk
regime, which has generated more refugees per capita than anywhere
else in the world – the flora and fauna is unsurpassed.

Then again, pretty towns just don't cut it anymore. What's new to say
about a village that makes its own regional cheese? I want to visit a
truly unique town. Spoiled, but highly unlikely to be spoiled further
(promoted euphemistically in tour-guide blurb as being frozen in
time). And so it is time to take a guided tour of Chernobyl. Operators
provide sight-seeing tours of the nuclear power plant where the
disaster occurred, including Pripyat, or "the Dead Town", where
visitors can explore the abandoned town, with its derelict buildings
and discarded possessions. Lunch is provided (but cooked outside the
fallout zone), and for a souvenir? An official printout of my
radioactivity levels. That would be a worldly thing to casually find
at the bottom of my handbag.

As of September, I'll be cooped up making notes in a library basement,
pretending to have a positive attitude towards learning. So why not
make the most of this summer by taking up an extra-curricular activity
and learning new skills? At KGB military school, for $1,900 (excluding
flights) I can learn how to drive a Soviet tank, fight with knives and
master special mind control techniques. Where others immortalise their
gap-year friends, I can become nostalgic about the amazing people I
met at Ukrainian Spetsnaz training, and reminisce about how we bonded
during hand-to-hand combat sessions.

Ecotourism is so 2003. Back in the day when we thought climate change
would imperil the world in 25-30 years, holidays were all about
supporting the rainforest, by staying in some poorly ventilated wood
hut, getting up at dawn and sitting in silence to see hear the rare
mating call of the cock-of-the-rock.

Now, according to Operation Shiloh, there are far more pressing
concerns. To deal with this amorphous threat – both the known unknowns
and the unknown knowns – I should worthily spend my summer learning
counter-terrorism for civilians. OpShiloh's programme, developed in
conjunction with the Israel Defence Force, provides the training
essential for today's dutiful American citizen. In order to
"contribute to our collective safety", participants undergo live fire
exercises with automatic weapons, tactical paintball terror
simulations and a tour of nighttime civilian guard duty.

And if I acquire a taste for military conflict, one British company
offers group tours of Iraq. It's a responsive company, and has
recently changed the itinerary to avoid those pesky insurgents in the
area around Baghdad. I should get in there quick to see some real
action. Lodging in 4/5 star hotels is no longer guaranteed, due to
damage in the war or requisition by military forces, but roughing it
is surely all part of the fun. Afghanistan may have been knocked off
the headlines by more recent military offensives, but it remains a
dangerous attraction to the new breed of tourist. Bomb attacks and
kidnapping of foreigners have increased in Kabul since mid-2004 and
visitors are advised to "keep off the grass" to avoid land mines. But
despite this, the current outbreak of cholera, and the unknown effects
of the depleted uranium weapons used by the US army, visitors remain
keen to witness it all first hand.

Travel Afghanistan claim that there's no place like it in the world.
On reflection, perhaps a week in Bognor doesn't sound so unappealing.
After all, there's also no place like home. 







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