Why Old Travel Guides are More Fun October 8, 2009

There are always inconveniences associated with travelling. For those who are interested in the various ethical issues you can worry about your carbon emissions, environmental damage and blah blah blah blah…we paid to offset our carbon, we hitched everywhere etc.. Other inconveniences include Australians, listening to Australians bonking in hostel dormitories, dealing with Australians telling you how pissed they got in every major European capital and Australians complaining how expensive Europe is. Pseudo-philosophers are another source of annoyance; a friend’s holiday was recently ruined by bumping into Alain de Botton at Heathrow Terminal 5 where he was researching his new book about head in the clouds travel philosophy bullshit-cum-nonsense.

Most inconvenient of all, are out of date guidebooks. I must admit, I belong among those who have a mortal fear of being spotted as a tourist and so my guidebook is always kept in my fanny-pack where it can’t be seen. There are occasions though, when guidebooks become indispensable which is also the time they generally fail. This is usually at about 10pm in the rain when I am trying to find a restaurant which has either closed down or never existed. This is why I thought to myself, if I know the guidebook will be out of date, then why not go to the extreme. On eBay I found a Baedeker guide to Northern Germany (including large areas of Poland) originating from 1893. I booked some flights, adorned my woollen underwear and set off (albeit by air) to Hamburg in order to experience the city as a Victorian would have done. The inside cover is reassuring; travel back then was scary and you could land in real trouble. There may be mistakes in the guide, but hey, God is on your side: the prayer above is presented on the inside cover.

Our little adventure was not incredibly successful. After arriving at the new bus station, we realised our maps were useless, and unable to use the metro we walked to the centre and sold on the promise of a large edifice with elevators and baths, we found the Hamburger Hof hotel staff to be pleasant, but they declined our offer of the 17 Marks as advertised in the guide book. We were met with further resistance when insisting upon free entry for the Church of St. Nicholas when a giant German moustache man shouted “NO, ZISS BOOK ISS VERY OLT.” Despite some problems caused by errrm, bombing, our tour was generally without incident and it was interesting to see how the city had changed. The sleazy Reeperbahn however, seemed to have retained much of its dubious reputation – though the guide describes it lightly as an area “principally frequented by sailors, for whose amusement booths and shows of every description abound”.

Even today, your choice of guide book may have a big effect on how you see a city. Use a French edition if you want to eat well, a German one for details of where to park your car and a Dorling Kindersley guide if you don’t like going out at night, don’t want to wander more than five meters from a main road and if you can’t imagine a building without the aid of a cartoon drawing with lots of little people. 

The first practical travel guides, notably Baedeker’s, Terry’s and Murray’s guides are incredibly practical and surprisingly in depth, covering customs charges to topographical descriptions written by Oxford academics. They were targeted towards budget travel as the books came about with the rise of steam ships and a merchant class who were now able to travel. These were a breakthrough compared to the previously available travelogues written by aristocrats. A favourite of mine is “Lady Craven’s journey through the Crimea to Constantinople” who encountered many problems such as her carriage continually overturning (shedding her toilette across the path) and being subjected to peasants’ dances in every “vile little village”. The new traveller was not likely to be invited to receptions with Catherine the great, so advice on how to make do with hoteliers and restaurants when you didn’t speak the language was vital.

The attractions they advise you to see are rather different when compared to modern day guides. Baedeker’s guide to England, aimed mainly at American tourists, contains much advice on how to contact mill-owners and industrialists as during the industrial revolution the newest technologies and fashions were of as much interest to the traveller as the ancient and the picturesque. In an age before mass media, libraries are often mentioned as an important stop on a tour.

The advice given to travellers ranges from the garrulously in depth to the incredibly succinct summing-up of entire cultures. We learn that “The average Japanese lives temperately and frugally, but eats noisily and rapidly.” And that “The popular idea of cleanliness in Italy is behind the age.” According to Baedeker; Russians have thick necks and have little capacity for individual thought. 

Whilst travelling it is of course vital that one follows the latest fashions: “On transatlantic ships many people dress for dinner; fancy-dress balls and dances are features on both and experienced travellers usually provide themselves with some sort of bizarre outfit before starting.” This I assume, is in contrast to the more serious get up worn by a tourist in Germany; “For a short tour a couple of flannel shirts, a pair of worsted stockings, slippers, the articles of the toilette, a light waterproof, and a stout umbrella will generally be found to be sufficient equipment.” The description unfortunately fails to mention trousers. 

My favourite advice is the kind given to travellers to avoid social faux-pas when abroad. This was a particular danger for widows on a tour of Japan with large mosquito nets: “Ladies who find their nets too large had best complain of the matter in a guarded manner, since in certain districts of Japan for a widow to mention that her mosquito net is too large is equivalent to a disposition on her part to name the day.” Please tell me if you know what this means. Maybe she just has to say what day it is but can’t speak Japanese. What happens if she doesn’t? Thankfully Terry’s guide to Japan includes a small phrase book. Also mentioned is the propensity for the Japanese to climb into baths with you, but don’t be worried because “The Japanese custom is to take no notice of one’s bathing companions, be they men or women…a survey of one’s physical characteristics is apparently never thought of.”

I do often wish that modern guides could be a little livelier, which I must say is sometimes achieved in Lonely Planet guides and the open source(ish) InYourPocket guides, something missed entirely by the very dry and illogically arranged (with bad maps which rarely fit the streets) Rough Guides. However, I have nowhere read such a damning description as the following one of Sheffield published in the Thorough Guide to the Peaks from 1894:

“Hitherto it has not been fashionable with guide-book writers to associate Sheffield in any way with the peak district….Words cannot well paint it blacker than it has painted itself, and any remarks upon the praiseworthy attempts which it has now been making for many years to assume an outward appearance more in accordance with its size and commercial importance would be out of place in a guidebook to the picturesque…The moment its smoke-vomiting chimneys and ugly red-brick streets are left behind, the tourist’s interest commences.”

These books are often quite cheap to find on eBay, and there is a great selection in the university library. Hopefully I’ve given you loads of enthusiasm. Unfortunately I’ve just lost mine, as I just spent ages reading loads of them. They’re quite interesting if you’re going somewhere but it’s bloody boring if you’re sitting at home trying to fill up space in an article about them. If you’re a geeky tourist like me you’ll enjoy the maps of galleries noticing that the DaVinci’s have been moved since a hundred years ago and pretend to be surprised. If not then piss of to Benidorm with a Danielle Steel novel. Weirdo.