Business travelers are the real travelers? Maybe in Iraq…

by Jeffrey White on

In terms of the literature of business travel, Britain’s Peter Biddlecombe has always had the market sort of cornered.

In titles like Very Funny, Now Change Me Back Again, Travels with My Briefcase: Around the World on Expenses, A Nice Time Being Had By All and French Lessons in Africa, Biddlecombe maintains that the only true travelers in the world are business travelers. The reason? They don’t mess about with sightseeing, museums, guidebooks, Michelin restaurants, etc. Rather they arrive with a purpose: they hit the ground running, interacting with the local culture from the very beginning, and in the time spent in board rooms and convention centers the business traveler can see and interact with the very engines that drive a country.

So he says. You can certainly argue the other side. But picking Biddlecombe’s books off the shelf, I’m always surprised that his short tales are, well, entertaining — and they are about business travel! It helps that Biddlecombe is often doing business in deepest Africa, in a Bedouin village in Saudi Arabia or Yemen, or on the Kamchatka Peninsula in the Russian Far East.

Some of that flavor is found in this nice piece from Business Traveler about the fact that business travel is picking up in Baghdad, of all places. The intrepid correspondent gives you a step-by-step account of what it’s like to show up in a war zone to do business. The opening, detailing the corkscrew dive of the airplane into Baghdad International (to avoid surface-to-air missiles, presumably) definitely evoked Biddlecombe.

So, check out some of Biddlecombe’s books, if you’re looking for a different take on travel writing. And read about business travel in Iraq here.

Catching the travel bug: Alexandria, Egypt

by Grant Martin on

Welcome to Catching the Travel Bug, Gadling’s mini-series on getting sick on the road, prevailing and loving travel throughout. Five of our bloggers will be telling their stories from around the globe for the next five weeks. Submit your best story about catching the travel bug in the comments and we’ll publish our favorite few at the end of the series.

Week 1: Alexandria, Egypt

Living arrangements in Cairo vary across a wide spectrum — one can invest generously, stay at the Marriott in Zamalek and enjoy pampered service, fresh pineapple every morning, clean water and sparkling clean toilets — or conversely can spend two dollars a night to crash in a hostel on the banks of the Nile. Naturally, Allan and I chose the least expensive option and stayed near the archaeology museum on the east bank. We brushed our teeth with water out of the tap, beds were rickety and our room faced the street — but we were young and adventuring — nothing could stop us.

Outside of the bubble of four start hotels, city life in Cairo can be a bit dramatic. Merchants hawking their wares heckle you from all sides, everyone is trying to sell you souvenirs and one grows a hard shell that resists anyone that seems to be too friendly. It’s a difficult way to trust and learn about a culture, and frankly was one of the most difficult characteristics for me to adapt to.

But finally, on our second day in Cairo we decided that we had recovered enough from the long journey out to Egypt to enjoy a night out on the town. With the narrow, tree lined avenues and embassies in Zamalek, we decided that the island just across the bridge in the Nile would be a good place to start. Ducking into the first modern establishment we could find, this turned out to be a Korean Barbecue.
As we timidly worked through our skewered beef and imported beers, I spotted a young woman eating alone and reading a Lonely Planet on Cairo (in English), so figured that she might be a good person to ask about bars to visit in the area.

She ended up joining us for dinner. In town on her own, the woman was visiting from Jordan on a brief holiday into Egypt, and after dinner our new friend led us to a few excellent bars within several blocks of the Korean barbeque — Allan switching between a few different types of drinks and myself sticking with the vodka tonics. And at the end of the night, we all hugged and went our separate ways — she back to her nice hotel in Zamalek and the two of us back to the sketchy part of town, happy to have made new friends in a foreign country.

I’ve never had a particularly strong stomach, but when I woke up the next morning something definitely didn’t feel right. Chalking it up to normal indigestion, we headed down to the train station to our morning journey out to Alexandria. But upon reaching the port city at mid-day, I knew something was wrong. As we worked our way to the sea wall and what was left of the Lighthouse of Alexandria, my abdomen hurt so bad that I had to lie down on the stone construction. I hadn’t eaten all day, and by this point knew that I had a bad case of Montezuma’s Revenge.

Writhing in pain on the sea wall and looking at the sky, I didn’t notice the middle aged Egyptian gentleman approach me and curiously look down. I waved him off — no, I don’t want any, I’m ok thanks. But he wasn’t selling anything. He pointed to his stomach and rubbed it, and I nodded, but I continued trying to wave him off — at this point all I wanted was for him to go away. As I got my wish Allan looked over and asked what had happened. I shrugged and laid back down.

Five minutes later the guy was back, not with something to sell me, but rather with a package from the pharmacy. He dropped it in my lap and smiled. Inside, among the twelve different translated instructions were pills for treating stomach bugs and ten Egyptian Pounds. He must have thought that I was homeless. I looked up in amazement — the guy was already gone, back across the street and on his way without a word.

For a brief interlude, the Egyptian medicine really hit the spot. That afternoon I enjoyed a stable gastrointestinal system, saw the sights and headed back to Cairo. But Montezuma would return and continue to haunt me for the next week. It followed me painfully through the train station in Cairo, in the bathrooms of Luxor and curled up on the floor on ferries across the Mediterranean. Only after talking to a Canadian couple just off the coast of Turkey later the next week did I eat some yogurt with acidophilus, clean up my act and finally get back to normal.

Allan, on the other hand, got sick two days after I did and remained ill for the next three weeks. Something, perhaps in those drinks in Cairo or in that Korean barbecue really got to us.

But I will always remember that kind man on the sea in Alexandria, the man who, when I was in my worst health, sick of Egypt, sick of traveling and so far from home, was kind enough to buy me medicine and not even ask for thanks. Kindness of that breadth is what makes travel worthwhile.

Leave your favorite story from being sick on the road in the comments below and we’ll publish our favorites at the end of the series on November 13th.

What happens in Dubai stays in Dubai (Dubai’s jails, that is)

by Jerry Guo on

Just read an interesting dispatch from Britain’s The Observer on the recent jailings of expats in Dubai. We’ve covered Poppy-gate and other unfortunate brushes with the law in Dubai, but this article really gives you a clear picture of the two worlds in this emirate: the intolerant Islamic society backed by Sharia law and the Wild West of Britain (and plenty of other nations looking to capitalize on the Middle East).

Surprisingly, what many of us do not hear about are the quintessential subdivisions and shopping malls that seem to be lifted straight out of Middle America. Granted, there are plenty of weird and awesome hotels down the block. I’ve been thinking about moving to Dubai for a year or two–seems like a good jumping off point to the Middle East–but given the unfortunate legal tangles recently, maybe I should reconsider?

Oprah a hit with women in Saudi Arabia

by Jamie Rhein on

Admittedly, I watched Oprah’s talk show when I lived in Singapore. Not often, but sometimes. The room with our TV was the only one with air-conditioning, so that had something to do with it. Still, there was a familiarity in all the advice.

Plus, since the shows were not aired in any particular order, some days Oprah would be thin, other days heavier, and along with her weight shifts were shifts in her hair style and clothing. Because Oprah was on every day, sometimes twice, I assumed it was because she was a big hit with the Singaporean audience.

In Saudi Arabia, women also watch Oprah, and with far more attention than I ever did. Oprah, according to this article in the New York Times, is a bit of a life-line for many Saudi females. The article starts by describing one woman who writes to Oprah Winfrey every month even though Oprah has yet to write back.

Nayla said that Oprah gives her hope and energy, and that Oprah is the only one who understands her. This feeling is echoed with Saudi women of all ages, but particularly with younger women. Part of what the women relate to is Oprah’s own struggles that she has overcome. As women in Saudi Arabia struggle to find their voice and use it, Oprah gives them a sense of how it is done.

The women also relate to Oprah because her style of dress fits Saudi Arabian women’s sensibility and taste. They would probably love Oprah’s closet, the store in Chicago where you can buy Oprah’s old clothes.

As I read the article, besides being interested in this particular Western influence on the Middle East, I wondered if Oprah has read the article yet and thought how terrific it would be if she would visit Nayla and Nayla’s friends–quietly and sincerely. It would not need to be a visit that showed up on TV, but one that would make a fairy tale ending to this story of a cultural mixing. I certainly hope Oprah has written Nayla back by now.

(About the photo: I couldn’t find a Creative Commons photo of a Saudi woman. This woman is from Iran. Yes, I know the difference. Please Don’t Smile, the photographer of this shot has several lovely photographs of women in Iran posted on Flickr.)

Shanghai, Havana and Tel Aviv among Cities with Most Improved Gay Tolerance

by Josh Lew on

Shanghai, China’s most westernized city, has one of the world’s fastest growing gay scenes, according to The Independent. Unlike most authoritarian states, there are currently no laws in China directly prohibiting homosexuality.

The list of 5 cities with the most improved gay tolerance included a couple of other surprising entries, Havana being one. Though Castro outlawed homosexuality when he came to power, his edicts have since been overturned. Gay tourists flock to Cuba from Europe and there is a thriving scene.

Tel Aviv also earned a spot on the list, probably because it is one of the only gay-friendly places in the Middle East. People from Palestine, Lebanon and Jordan who are persecuted in their home countries, are able to join in the happening gay scene in Israel’s most modern metropolis.

In case you are curious, the worst places to be gay include Saudi Arabia, Iran, and Afghanistan. The most surprising member of the “least fabulous countries” list is the popular vacation destination of Jamaica. Homosexuality is against the law and punishable by 10 years on the chain gang.