Travel writing at its best

When Peter More got bored with living the dream as a young Aussi subsiding in South London, the most obvious release of boredom to him was an overland journey from London back home to Sydney, and why not. Apart from the costs, long unyielding journeys on rickety  vehicles, hard to gain visas, almost impossible to cross borders and not to mention potential and live war zones to face. His book, published in 1999 opens with the physical visionary of Peter’s journey, which to any travel addictied person would be enough not to have to read the introduction titled ‘Why?’.

Instead he wants to follow the once worn ‘hippy trail’ across the continent and overland to home. A mixture of London boredom and hippie envy - hippies had the best music, they had the best drugs, they had the best sex. But most of all, they had the best trips - Moore’s answer to the frequently asked question as to why he decided to embark on such a trial. He writes vividly about his adventure and with practically laugh out loud humour. So much so that as soon as the last page is turned, you feel this inaudible sense of inexplicable compulsion to pack a bag of some description and board a bus from Victoria; destination unknown.

Peter Moore, born in Australia has visited more than 101 countries and written truthfully in an extremely down to earth style about his passion for travel which has led him on some outrageous trips. On a thrilling journey that takes Moore through 25 countries, many of which are still ravaged by war, Moore recounts his experience, through sight, sound and smell and the people he meets. He describes the places and the people he encountered there with a mixture of awe, irreverence and self-deprecation. Striking a chord with all those travellers, young and old, who have stood where Moore stood. The sights he sees in a relatable and entertaining way.

With the thrill of knowing that his overland journey from London to the East circa 1967 was going to be more than difficult, only pained more by his slowly demeaning funds (which were barely existent to begin with ) and the difficulty of passing through countries such as Iran and China being more than slim, the story is brought to life with excitement. He does not glamorise travel, neither is he over cynical or hideously negative towards it. Just plain truth and great entertainment.

The Wrong Way Home is notoriously thought of as Moore’s ‘classic’ and essential guide to long term travel. Yet it is travel writing in a modern way, it is more of a novel and far less of a continual journal like list. However, you could still easily follow Moore’s footsteps as he has detailed his journey well with acute observations, especially his border crossings which appear to have been the bane of his travelling life.  

One of Moore’s greatest talents was to be respectful of all people and cultures, and simply want to learn which is perhaps the definition of the ultimate traveller. He points out the ironies and idiosyncrasies of his own and other cultures. Take the example of the cling-on koala he gives to a Chinese friend in Lanzhou as a token of thanks--he makes sure he removes the "Made in China" label first. Or the ‘low key’ traditional Aussi goodbye to Keith, the one traveller who he could actually imagine having a beer with at home – which he actually does when he bumps into him in Sydney nine months later.

He seemed to keep calm and collected and at times, rather cheeky in physically and emotionally difficult situations which is endearing. The book is peppered with cartoon-like characters that Moore meets on his journey; the Czechs with matching haircuts, the spitting Chinese, the drunken Australians. Juxtaposed with his acidic observations Moore writes movingly of his experiences in war-torn Bosnia and the visit to his grandfather's grave in Singapore. It is a little disappointing he didn't get into some more debunking of myths and misconceptions of the Middle East. It is a shame that he seems to spend less time telling the reader about the larger countries such as India and China as opposed to the detail he goes into whilst in Europe and we only hear about the physical journey and less about the actual country he is in. Perhaps this is representative of the difficulties he faced whilst traversing these huge countries. It is understandable that China is a harder country to travel due to less people speaking English, but it is roundabout here in his journey that it appears he is now embarking on more of a race to get home as opposed to the fun trail it started off as.

What better way to lodge a specific memory firmly in its place that to partner it with music. Even the first line of a tune can take you back years and miles to refresh your memory like it was merely yesterday. Moore partners every new country with a soundtrack specific of that time to which he was listening to on his walkman whilst travelling. Another contemporary relation is Peter’s mentioning of the Simpsons and Star Wars. Peter relates certain experiences back to his life at home, his childhood, his family and time spent in London. These anecdotes build a bridge between the reader and Peter and give us a rounder version of Peter and remind us  that he is not trying to be a slightly annoying ‘wise’ all knowing travel writer or a tight wadded, young bored and slightly mad Australian with nothing better to do than to attempt near impossible journeys.

The novel is perfectly rounded off at the end with a flight, which Peter is nothing but overjoyed to get on in order to make that last little (comfortable) journey back to Sydney. After travelling for eight months and crossing more countries than one can keep count of, Peter became nostalgic and realised his home country in all its vastness and wide open spaces has much more to explore and sets off doing so. However, Moore had been, in my opinion an extremely lucky traveller with the people he meets, the invaluable information they give him and the things they offer him. In my experience this is rare, but perhaps that’s one of the many benefits of a lone traveller. An ironic yet pleasing end to a fantastic tale. More than entertaining and alarming for the experienced traveller as well as the armchair travellers.