David’s post is here, but also read the comments – they’re a fascinating glimpse into the travel blogging mindset.

After what I wrote there, Nathan Midgley followed up with this. Then a business journalist writing about the Visit Jordan campaign emailed me for my opinion. I thought I’d lay things out here.

Visit Jordan’s strategy has considerable merit.

Here are some sweeping generalisations for you. Jordan is a difficult destination. It’s hot and dusty, and a bit underdeveloped. It’s in a war zone. Not many people have been there – word of mouth doesn’t yield much info. You have to be tough to get around, and you have to like scrambling over ancient ruins, cuz there isn’t much else. The people are nice enough, but it’s not exactly a Land of Smiles. Women need to watch out. Tread carefully around cultural issues – people are easily offended. And watch your wallet.

Rubbish, isn’t it? But that’s where I think ordinary folk are coming from. They simply don’t know. For years, I’ve been bellyaching about the lack of information out there on Jordan.

So a campaign which delivers a large quantity of first-hand experiences, in text, pictures and video, to an audience already primed & softened up to the delights of travel makes sense. Over a year you could realistically expect mainstream media around the world to run perhaps 30 separate print features on travel to Jordan in total. Maybe 50. That’s a lot of eyeballs, sure, but it’s also a lot of dead ends. Bloggers can deliver hundreds of posts, as well as FB & Twitter coverage, that – I’m guessing – have way more trickle-down impact than MSM. By plugging closely into a SM-savvy market, you could potentially spark the holy grail for every tourist board – Positive Word of Mouth Worldwide – without having to spend millions on Incredible India branding or sumptuous Malaysia Truly Asia ads.

Nayef Al Fayez – former director of the Jordan Tourism Board (i.e. the overseas promotional arm) and now Minister of Tourism – is a smart guy. He travels constantly. He listens to people. He knows how Jordan is seen around the world.

And he knows that whereas half of Jordan’s tourism is package holidays booked through a tour operator, that leaves half which is effectively independent and unmeasurable. For a DMO to be able to talk directly to consumers and be believed has inestimable value.

So, aside from the danger of firehosing the web with Jordan content rather than dripfeeding under controlled conditions, JTB’s strategy is basically sound. The problems come, I’m afraid, from the bloggers.

Much has been made of the fact that blogging shatters the old journalism model, by allowing writers to be their own publishers – Alastair McKenzie, for instance, makes that point here.

That’s power – a lot of it. Blogs which attract tens of thousands of visitors, and bloggers who have tens of thousands of followers on Twitter and/or Facebook, are as powerful as publishers. That’s why PRs and DMOs (and advertisers) are wooing them.

But they’re unedited. Unregulated. Untrained. Unqualified. Unaccountable.

That can be positive. They can publish things mainstream media wouldn’t touch – wacky ideas, marginal destinations, tangential encounters. But, let’s face it, they don’t. A handful of notable exceptions aside, travel bloggers just churn out the same old crud. They swan around like wide-eyed first-timers. There’s no insight. There’s no pre-trip research. There’s no post-trip reflection (heaven forbid: publish and move on). There’s no understanding of the economic strategies which brought them to the destination. There’s no sense of perspective. To put it bluntly, there’s no journalism. It’s all just words, words, words. Me, me, me. So we end up with the immortal “Jordan is the Canada of the Middle East“.

As David Whitley so memorably said, the last thing the web needs is more stuff on it.

Because they don’t know any different, bloggers are putty in the hands of the PRs…and it’s a short distance from that to the iambassador marketing programme embraced by Visit Jordan, and queried by Jeremy Head.

JTB’s tactics have let its strategy down. Quantity of material is the driving force, but quality has been underestimated. Quality really matters, if Jordan is to break out of its standard historical/cultural package tourism model and diversify into potentially lucrative niche markets. And, incidentally, those markets go beyond tourism: they have the ability to slowly – but clearly – define Jordan’s uniqueness to the world. This is soft power. It’s absolutely vital to the national interest.

But that won’t come if the country spends money hosting people who can only deliver “Jordan is the Canada of the Middle East”, regardless of how big the audience for that message is.

Bloggers are in a uniquely privileged position. Most of them, though, still view travel as holiday, rather than work, and they view themselves as being in a community rather than as being communicators. That’s not good enough. With power comes responsibility. Responsibility to the destination, sure, but above all to the readership. Show us something new.

Be better.

Disclaimer: In the last 12 months I went twice to Jordan. In the three years before that I was there 7 times. I’ll be there 3 or 4 times in 2012. Sometimes I’m hosted by the tourist board, sometimes I’m not. If you think that means I’m jealous because I wasn’t invited to take part in the 2011 blogger programme (thank heavens), good for you.

In 2007 and 2008, US outdoor adventure specialist David Landis and Israeli tourism entrepreneur Maoz Inon developed the Jesus Trail, a 65km walking route linking Nazareth – the town where Jesus grew up – to sites of pilgrimage around the Sea of Galilee. David and Maoz, with David’s wife Anna, created the trail from nothing, route-finding between points of interest, building relationships with people in villages along the way, encouraging them to create guesthouses and other support businesses for walkers, and negotiating with the SPNI land authorities to blaze the trail officially.

Nazareth is the largest Palestinian Arab city inside Israel, a focus for the substantial Arab population – both Muslim and Christian – in nearby towns and villages. The Jesus Trail deliberately passes through these, as well as through Jewish-Israeli and Druze communities in the area, on a village-to-village route which links specific New Testament locations with sites of historical interest from different periods and traditions.

While living in Nazareth, round the corner from Maoz’s award-winning Fauzi Azar Inn in the Old City, David and Anna wrote and photographed a Jesus Trail map and guidebook, self-published in the US in 2010. They developed an exemplary website for the trail which includes stage-by-stage route outlines, video and satellite imagery, GPS downloads, links to accommodation providers, even merchandising.

Nobody “owns” the trail: it’s a free, public, non-profit enterprise, feeding visitors – and, therefore, money – directly into rural communities. It’s founded on sustainable ideals, and promotes Leave No Trace principles. Everything is maintained by volunteers.

A pretty creditable effort, you’d've thought. Worthy of an award, perhaps? Or funding? Or maybe incorporation into Israel’s national tourism effort, to help bring more international visitors and so give those villages along the way a bit more of an economic boost?

Er, no. The Israeli government has its own agenda. Fuelled by the green-eyed monster.

Facts on the ground

Jesus Trail at Zippori

Newly announced this week is the “Gospel Trail“, a 63km route linking – yes – Nazareth with the Sea of Galilee, designed by the Ministry of Tourism for Christian visitors to be able to walk where Jesus walked, blah blah.

But the ministry has taken a rather more interventionist approach. Their not-exactly-subtle signage, which includes appropriate passages of scripture hacked into chunks of basalt stone (in case walkers venture out without a bible, presumably), stands propped up as giant cairns beside the path. The cairns are widely spaced just now, but even when the path is ready they’ll be placed only every 500m or so, making it impossible to follow the trail independently.

What’s far more concerning, though, is that the Gospel Trail has been deliberately routed away from Arab communities and sites of Islamic interest or Palestinian cultural relevance – and the official map identifies every other officially blazed path in the region, except the Jesus Trail. There’s an agenda at play.

The Jesus Trail starts at the Basilica of the Annunciation in the heart of Nazareth, leading through the souk and residential districts, heading into open country to pass through the Arab Muslim village of Mashhad (reputed birthplace of Jonah) to end for an overnight stay in the Arab Christian village of Cana (one of the places where Jesus is supposed to have turned water into wine).

By comparison, the Gospel Trail begins on Mt Precipice, a manicured tourist spot – and site of a 2009 papal mass – well outside Nazareth city centre, and proceeds on day one through forest planted by the Jewish National Fund, avoiding villages to end somewhere near Mt Tabor (unspecified). The first 30km of the trail has nowhere to refill water bottles, buy food or sleep.

Further along, after an overnight stop at the orthodox Jewish kibbutz of Lavi, the Jesus Trail visits the Druze holy site of Nabi Shuayb and then heads over Mt Arbel for panoramic views across the Sea of Galilee. The Gospel Trail bypasses Nabi Shuayb and follows existing valley-floor routes.

Perversely, the Gospel Trail even avoids sites of Christian interest: I’m told the first church on the trail comes at Km 59 – out of the 63km total route. The Jesus Trail passes 8 churches on Day One alone.

A land without people

With Israel’s global tourism reach and IGTO‘s marketing budget, the Gospel Trail will probably succeed. But, even before it’s got anywhere, concerns are being raised. Judith Sudilovsky, writing for the Catholic News Service, reports:

…retired Anglican Bishop Riah Abo el-Assal, retired Melkite Catholic Archbishop Pierre Mouallem and Melkite Archbishop Elias Chacour said they were glad to see effort spent to improve Christian pilgrimage. They were less enthusiastic about side industries such as bike riding and horseback riding, which they said were not suited for a contemplative pilgrimage experience along the trail.

Even Israel’s tourism minister is already on the defensive. “Israel invests a lot of money in safeguarding the holy places of all religions,” he is quoted as saying (perhaps literally true, though an interesting follow-up question might ask in what proportions that money is allocated between sites from different religions. Anyway.). “Is it problematic,” he continued, “to use the culture and history of the [Nazareth/Galilee] area to promote tourism for the benefit of all nations? I don’t think so.”

I do. How about using the culture and history of the area to promote tourism for the benefit of the people who live there – Muslim, Christian, Jewish, Druze, Israeli and Palestinian? It’s theirs, after all. And in what way are “all nations” benefiting here? Surely “for the benefit of the Israeli government” would be more accurate?

But Mr Minister has bigger fish to fry.

According to Anna Landis, a tourism official has told her: “[The Jesus Trail] is dirty. I don’t want to show the face of Israel as…uh, you know…and I can’t fight the Arab cities to say ‘Listen, don’t throw your garbage outside.’ I’m the government, I don’t have to compete with anyone…but I can’t claim this is the best treatment you should give to pilgrims.”

Walking the walk

Government officials tend not to tread lightly. They know all about big-bus tourism, hosting Christian groups 50- or 100- or 200-strong, but do they know about developing sustainable rural tourism initiatives down at the grassroots? Have they chatted over tea with community leaders along the trail, explaining ideas and listening to concerns? Have they encouraged the growth of village B&Bs and local trail support initiatives? Have they walked similar trails – the Camino de Santiago, St Paul Trail, Abraham’s Path or Nativity Trail, to name only four – to find out how things are done elsewhere?

Or have they just sat in their big city offices and decided to graft their idea of religious tourism onto what they imagine is a blank countryside canvas?

I wonder.

But government officials also don’t think nimbly. Some time ago David, Maoz and Anna quietly bought gospeltrail.com, gospeltrail.co.il, gospeltrail.net and gospeltrail.org – and pointed them all at the Jesus Trail. Ha!

Market that, IGTO.

Disclosure: I first heard about the Jesus Trail in 2009, when I met David and Anna on a walk in southern Israel. I met Maoz soon after. Since then I’ve sat with them, eaten with them, talked with them and walked with them. I like them. They’re nice people, doing good work. Maybe that means this post is a load of biased, jealous, provocative, de-contextualised whingeing. Up to you to decide.

Note: I’m told the Israeli newspaper Haaretz is running an article on the Gospel Trail tomorrow (4 Dec 2011). If it does, I’ll give a link in the comments below.

After their amazing work over almost thirty years in the Wadi Rum deserts of southern Jordan, and their expertise trailfinding long-distance paths in Palestine – and Tony’s record-breaking conquest of the Troll Wall, Europe’s tallest rock face, back in ’65 – plus countless more achievements in destinations from southwestern Morocco to northeastern India, this month sees the publication of their new guide to the Al Ayoun region of northern Jordan.

It’s another groundbreaking effort. No outsider (other than Taylor & Howard themselves, a few years ago) has explored this region in any detail – this is the first guide, in any language, to identify unwaymarked countryside routes known only to local shepherds and farmers.

Printed in Jordan – a nice boost for the local economy – the book is published by Vertebrate in the UK and is full colour throughout: the pictures of Al Ayoun’s amazingly lush, green and fertile countryside are gorgeous. 20 long-distance walking routes are covered in turn-by-turn detail, with GPS and maps. There are full accounts of rock climbing and, perhaps uniquely in Jordan, caving. Local knowledge is, of course, impeccable, with rural legends, archaeological history and deep understanding of Jordanian culture mixed with transport info and practical advice.

It’s a slender book – only 104 pages – but it signposts the way for how sustainable – and sustaining – tourism can develop, not only in Jordan but in any developing economy: not with one-off eco schemes or grand promotions, but by investing time, money and expertise in allowing pre-existing local knowledge to find expression, and by fostering the creation of outlets by which that knowledge can come to a wider audience, thereby stimulating economic (and emotional) investment from visitors.

If you’re even halfway interested in Middle East travel, buy the book.

The noble pursuit of travelling

For a flavour of what it’s like (the book, that is), here is the Dedication which Tony & Di print in full:

“There is much profit to be derived from seeing new lands and new houses, in seeing beautiful gardens and fields, in seeing different faces and coming across different languages and colours, and in witnessing the wonders of different countries.

The peace that one finds under the shade of large trees is unparalleled. Eating in the mosques, drinking from streams, and sleeping wherever one finds a place when night comes, these all instil affability and humbleness in a person. The traveller befriends all those whom he loves for God’s sake and he has no reason to flatter or to be artificial.

Add to these benefits all of the happiness that the traveller’s heart feels when he reaches his destination, and the thrill he experiences after having overcome all of the obstacles that were on his way.

If those who are averse to leaving their homelands knew all of this, they would learn that all of the individual pleasures of the world are combined in the noble pursuit of travelling. There is nothing more enjoyable to a traveller than the beautiful sights and the wonderful activities that are part of travelling through God’s wide earth.

And the non-traveller is deprived of all this.”

From ‘The Noble Scholar of Hadith’ by Ramhumuzi

Source: Don’t Be Sad, by Sheikh ‘Aaidh ibn Abdullah Al Qarni (2003)

Warning: rant follows

Now, pin back your ears for a rant – perhaps only of interest to those involved with Jordan. Feel free to stop reading now…

The book came about through Tony Howard & Di Taylor’s association with the Abraham’s Path Initiative (API), who have been working in Al Ayoun for several years to help local communities develop the Al Ayoun Trail (better coverage here), part of the wider Abraham’s Path running from Turkey and Syria through Jordan into Palestine.

API, Al Ayoun and all of these similar organisations or individuals are operating on shoestring budgets. I cannot imagine how much of their own time and resources Tony & Di have ploughed into Jordanian tourism over the decades – not the flashy promotional stuff, but solid, hardcore, tough work down at the grassroots, making connections, building bridges, raising consciousness, offering support, developing ideas. And yet, they told me, for want of a pittance they still struggled to get this book published.

It would not have appeared at all, so I understand, without the sponsorship of Jordanian entrepreneur Fadi Ghandour, founder of Amman-based global logistics firm Aramex. Tony mentioned to me that, after Fadi agreed to help, he demanded a unique form of payback: he asked Tony and Di to lead him on one – only one – walk through Al Ayoun, because he wanted to see the most beautiful parts of his own country – and there was no information, no map and no specialist guide able to take him out into the wilds.

That’s a special kind of sponsor. Fadi is to be congratulated for having the vision to back such a valuable project for Jordan.

His involvement puts to shame the entities and organisations further up the food chain who will benefit from this book, but who didn’t see fit to back it.

Suraida Nasser & her grandfather

A word of congratulation for the wonderful Fauzi Azar Inn, a guesthouse in the Old City of Nazareth, in northern Israel.

Already lauded by every guidebook out there (Lonely Planet author pick: “One of the highlights of a stay in the region.” Bradt: “By far the best midrange option in town.” Jesus Trail: “The perfect base…Best budget accommodation in the region.” Frommers: “Lots of atmosphere…friendly and personal” etc etc) – this week the Fauzi added a major new award to its trophy cabinet.

It was named global winner of the ‘Best Accommodation for Local Communities’ at the Virgin Holidays Responsible Tourism Awards 2011, held during the annual World Travel Market trade event in London.

Can’t tell you how delighted I am for Suraida Nasser, Maoz Inon and everyone associated with the Fauzi. I’ve been there twice, most recently only a few weeks ago, researching a story for Britain’s Wanderlust magazine. It’s a truly inspiring place to stay.

And the story of how the inn came into being is a model example of how this kind of carefully thought-through, low-key, grassroots, community-focused tourism initiative can transform an entire city – not just shape the image of a place, but actually inject money into the local economy, refocus businesses citywide, drive growth and create jobs far beyond the limits of its own four walls.

As for responsible tourism, well, just take a look.

There’s a couple of other reasons to visit Nazareth, true – but the Fauzi brings it all together. Book well ahead to make sure you get a room at this particular inn.

Disclosure: nobody has paid me a penny to write this post. All from the heart.

UPDATE: Soon after posting, I found this nice little short video made by vlogger Daniel Baylis during his stay at the Fauzi in September (2011). Credit to him. Enjoy:

It was less than half an hour before sunset. I’d already snapped a picture or two of the group of girls mooching about the old Roman theatre at Sebastia. The incomparably knowledgeable and insightful George Rishmawi had been guiding non-stop since breakfast time at the other end of Palestine. I didn’t want to drop the pace. I was desperate to put my eyes in the way of Sebastia before the light went altogether.

The girls clocked us, the guide and the camera-toting tourist. “No, no! No pictures!”

I pointed at the wall, showing I wasn’t photographing them. It was a lie. I’ve lied like this many times. As if my photographs matter.

They hopped down off the old stones. I was listening to George as they stalked past. No photos.

They sauntered up the hill. I was listening to George as they picked flowers. No photos.

The last metre-and-a-half of the sunset caught them laughing against a golden olive tree, with a column drum beside and the hills beyond. I chewed my lip. George invited me to declaim “To be” at the old stones.

As we walked up the hill – Can we talk to them? I asked.

The girls were young enough to be interested, old enough to radiate contempt. George said hello, then, leaning back against a flaming sunset panorama, spent ten minutes in rapid-fire simultaneous translation. (A guide makes or breaks. George made.)

Why should anyone come here? asked the English journalist.

“Palestine is an Arab Islamic country,” offered one.

“And Christian,” said another.

“Nablus is a very ancient area. There are many historic places to see.”

“We have three religions in Palestine.”

But then, from a girl hanging back, with the face of a widow: “This is our country and we are proud of it.” The others had pre-teen body language. She was tenser.

I asked her how she would tell someone in England about Palestine. I don’t remember exactly, but I think she stamped the ground.

That’s when I realised she was shaking.

She turned and stormed away, then stormed back, her friends caught like little children in her whirlwind.

She raged at me. “You don’t understand what occupation is like.” Raged. Furious. Almost spitting, she was. “Palestinians are under occupation and we want you to help us.” She hated me. It was hate at first sight. Half turning, she untied any connection, eyes down as a raging underling but with fists jabbing by her sides. She was shouting. “You have no idea.”

I don’t, I said, wondering what on earth had happened to her. People in England have no idea, I said. That’s why I came, I said, to help try and show them – I was talking like an excuse, defending my self-proclaimed role as a puny reporter in a land of pain.

Fists still jabbing. Tears now, too. “You don’t understand.” She turned towards me, full face. “An Israeli can come here, right now, and shoot us.” I think she stamped the ground again.

Then her friend took her away. She was rigid, like a matriarch. They were not floods of tears. There was no submission.

I talked to the other girls, but they didn’t say much. I took some photos – and realised she had marched back to lead them away. I asked her name. She told me twice. She was 13, she said.

13.

Could I write it in my notebook? Yes. Could I take her picture? OK – and she wiped her cheeks with her palms.

Which makes me wonder why this doesn’t happen more around the Middle East. There was this idea for the Falafel Bus, running on a regular hop-on-hop-off route between points of touristic interest in Israel, Jordan and Egypt – but, as I heard from a hostel owner in Jerusalem a couple of weeks ago, it’s already folded after less than three months. I’m not surprised. Awful, awful name, transparently attempting to raise a smile by defining what unites Israel and its neighbours – which is a very Israeli mindset, incidentally: you don’t find Jordanians or Egyptians hunting for warm and fuzzy points of cultural commonality with Israel. Funny that.

But the idea itself was all wrong – too big, too complicated, too expensive – and if the accuracy of the truly execrable map is anything to go by, completely unreliable to boot.

But that’s not to say smaller-style initiatives couldn’t work. I was just in Palestine. A tourist bus route that went from Bethlehem checkpoint to Bethlehem, Jericho, Taybeh, Ramallah and back to Qalandia could potentially draw independent travellers out of Jerusalem to see more of the West Bank. It would save on taxis, for sure.

There was talk in Nazareth of a private-sector initiative emerging to encourage tourists to visit Jenin, perhaps as part of a joint hotel package in both cities. But that would be expensive. Independent travel, with community-run buses reliably linking either side of the Jalameh checkpoint, perhaps also serving the superb ancient site of Sebastia nearby, would be more attractive to more people.

And Jordan is, frankly, crying out for something like this. A friend I know recently made enquiries about starting a tourist bus circuit around Jordan to entice independent travellers arriving by easyJet – to no avail: the quantity of paperwork and capital funds required to obtain a commercial permit put him off.

The only example I’m aware of is run by entrepreneur Charl Al-Twal, owner of the (excellent) 3-star Mariam Hotel in Madaba. For some years now he’s offered a private bus for tourists between Madaba and Petra along the scenic King’s Highway – a long, slow route avoided by normal buses, which all follow the quicker but duller Desert Highway further east.

But public transport around Jordan to sites of tourist interest is virtually non-existent – major UNESCO World Heritage Sites, such as Umm Ar-Rasas, Quseir Amra and Wadi Rum, are effectively impossible to reach unless you’re on a tour or have private transport.

The trouble is Jordanians – and most tourists to Jordan, who come from Saudi Arabia and the Gulf countries – aren’t interested in visiting Quseir Amra. Or Wadi Rum. And nobody is willing to go out on a limb to start a round-Jordan bus service anyway, in the hope that vivid marketing and a bit of PR will create a demand. So Amra (and others) remain desperately under-visited, Jordanian tourism remains stuck in a rut of seven-day package tours visiting all the same places, and innovation of Jordan’s national tourism product remains largely elusive. Someone, somewhere has to bite the bullet.

Looks like they’re trying in post-revolutionary South Sinai.

Rwanduz, Iraqi Kurdistan

A mini-roundup of some interesting news from the fringes of Middle East tourism.

Iraq

An interesting story by Gulf News mentions more than a million visitors a year to the semi-autonomous Kurdistan region of northern Iraq, with the authorities targeting a Dubai-style five million by 2015.

My favourite line? “The recent surge in arrivals is a direct result of the international media promoting the area’s tourism potential.” So says the local tourism PR chief anyway. Finally there’s a place where travel writers are truly valued. Mind you, I’ve pitched Iraqi Kurdistan to several different editors here in Britain. All I get is tutting and tooth-sucking. Maybe it’s me.

Adding to the good news: Marriott is opening in Kurdistan, as is Hilton. There are signs of sustainable community-based nature tourism as well – and UK operator Undiscovered Destinations launches a new tour there next month.

Palestine

Talking of sustainable community-based tourism, take a look at this new website showcasing guesthouses in Palestine.

It’s interesting stuff, inevitably with a political tinge, but also comprising a bunch of good ideas for how to travel independently through the country. There’s an article about it here. The site is compiled by Bradt guide author Sarah Irving – for more on her, see below.

Bradt Guides

Speaking of which, props to Bradt. They are the only publisher in the world I can think of to have one guidebook to Israel, and another separate guidebook to Palestine (and may the mealy-mouthed ‘Palestinian Territories‘ henceforth be banished to history).

The new Bradt guide to Israel is written by Samantha Wilson. Despite a bit of leakage in the Jerusalem chapter and around Qumran, and (regrettably) a chapter on the Golan Heights, this is remarkable for sticking to its subject. Bethlehem is not covered. The book is a bit light on political perspectives, and the country map on page 2 is frankly bizarre (“Palestinian controlled territory”? “Area of Israeli settlement”?), but it’s a sound effort.

The Bradt guide to Palestine, by Sarah Irving, is classier still. The Israel book is 312 pages; Palestine – though a fraction of the size and with a fraction of the infrastructure – gets 326pp. I’ve seen pre-publication proofs; not the final book. Irving knows her stuff, and has covered the ground intimately. It is refreshing (inspiring? simply bloody wonderful?) to have the Green Line respected in a guidebook. After decades of one-way traffic in terms of travel priorities, travel narratives and travel coverage, Irving reverses the flow. Jerusalem coverage is East Jerusalem coverage. People are front-centre, with homestays featuring prominently and sustainable tourism emphasised. Irving gives informative first-hand accounts of places that not only don’t appear in other guidebooks, but which most other specialist writers (this one included) have never even heard of. I showed her account of Bethlehem to a friend who lives there: after one paragraph he was saying “I never knew that”.

What’s even more interesting is that the last chapter – titled “Palestinian Communities in Israel / Palestinians of 1948″ – includes coverage of Nazareth, the Golan (fascinating to compare the two books’ approach), Haifa and elsewhere. This is as much a guide to Palestinians as to Palestine. But it dodges the romantic, armchair-traveller feel of, say, Palestine: A Guide, thanks to an informed journalistic style which is partial but not tub-thumping, and a wealth of practical info on independent travel. It’s a breath of fresh air.

(The only guide on a par is Daniel Jacobs’ outstanding Rough Guide to Jerusalem, which has 300 pages on the city alone, scrupulously balanced, infinitely knowledgeable, quirkily readable. Add in Jacobs’ coverage of Tel Aviv, Bethlehem, Hebron, Masada, the Dead Sea and Jericho, and his book should be much better known than it is.)

Footnote: I haven’t seen Bradt Palestine’s colour maps yet.

Another footnote: Bradt have Lebanon on the way and their Eastern Turkey is already out. How soon before Iraqi Kurdistan?

Qatar

Not exactly tourism, but in case you thought everything in the Gulf was new – or commercialised – take a look at the fascinating oral history project Swalif. Click on some of the links to hear stories about life in Qatar before oil, before glitz, before malls, before countless luxury hotels. Arabic audio with English text.

Oman

A campaign late last year to push domestic tourism in Oman continues, with starry-eyed op-ed press articles still appearing. It’s all good. Local people travelling for pleasure within their own countries – such as in Lebanon, Israel or Saudi Arabia – fuels rural hospitality, helps diversify tourism economies, improves infrastructure and fosters innovation in non-commercial and/or nature-based attractions. The others in the region should look and learn.

I just saw this post at WorldNomads.com, written by Megan Czisz, about going “off the beaten path” (or track!) in Jordan. Megan defines this as Amman, roast chicken, the King’s Highway, Dana, Petra and Wadi Rum. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with that, but it is kinda remarkable how the beaten track can magically become off the beaten track in the fervid world of travel blogging.

Greater travel bloggers than I might now branch off into a thoughtful disquisition on themes of familiarity and exoticism in travel and travel writing. Me? I’m going to force you to watch my holiday snaps instead, in the vain – yet, truthfully, altruistic – hope that people doing a search for “Off The Beaten Track in Jordan” don’t come up with Petra and falafel sandwiches and think that’s it.

There’s not much rhyme or reason to these pics. I’ve compressed them a lot (so forgive the pixellation, but please don’t steal them anyway) and I’m not cramming links in either. For more info on Jordan, go and buy a decent guidebook.

Amman isn’t off the beaten track, but its beauty isn’t widely appreciated. This (above) is a snap which says nothing much about anything, but which has got a whiff of atmosphere to it, at least.

As does this.

And this (above) is one of the city’s loveliest cafés, but I’m not going to tell you its name. Since we were mentioning street food, this guy (below) is most definitely ON the beaten track, and he knows it too…

Moving on, there aren’t many places where this happens…

That (above) is Irbid – visual proof that a kindly old fluffy-bearded man in the sky really does beam down on Jordan.

A gentle scene – except those hills behind are the Golan Heights, Syrian territory annexed by Israel. Here’s another view, from above…

That’s the Sea of Galilee behind the bougainvillea. To get to (or from) that terrace, you drive on one of my favourite roads…

It’s pretty quiet. Here’s another place that’s pretty quiet:

That’s the River Jordan. Yes, the River Jordan. It’s no Amazon. When she stands up, the water reaches her knees. The other bank, by the way, is Palestine – the middle of the river is the international border. While we’re on a biblical theme…

Up there, on top, is where Salome danced the dance of the seven veils for old King Herod, and where John the Baptist was separated from his head. Hardly anyone goes there now.

Just a couple of nice landscapes, both from northern Jordan, the sort of place where a boy can sit in a wheelbarrow, pick his nose and call it a good day’s work.

Thinking of curves, how did those 7th-century architects down in the desert get bricks to curve like this?

Silhouettes do nice things sometimes. Amazing how Jordan seems to inspire scenic nose-picking though.

That pic (above) is in Aqaba on the Red Sea coast, a place which is now trying desperately to get on the beaten track, after years off it. Lots of fancy hotels and upmarket construction. But still a touch of atmosphere…

Balls.

Of handmade olive-oil soap, that is.

At the end of a hard day, there’s always the sunset…

It’s not bad looking this way either.

And even better from this side.

Given a choice, dromedaries (below) always make their own beaten tracks…

And as for whether Jordan is safe to visit or not, best do what the guy says, OK?

Talisman Hotel, Damascus

Journalist Tom Gara recently wrote this article (registration required) for FT Tilt – a short piece which takes info from a blog post by Syria analyst Joshua Landis, which in turn digests 2008 figures from the Syrian Central Bureau of Statistics. In summary:

• Syria’s entire hotel industry employs just 11,224 people.

This represents 0.05% of the Syrian population of 22.5 million. Even if you generously infer that each employee is a breadwinner in a family of six, and thus that hotel employment supports 66,000 people, that means hotel wages support 0.3% of Syrians. Compare that to Jordan, where tourism (as a whole) supports perhaps 7% of Jordanians (160,000 families, totalling roughly half a million people out of a national population under 7 million).

• Total salaries paid to hotel employees are just under two billion Syrian pounds.

Landis notes that this averages out to roughly £185/US$300 a month per employee. He also notes that living costs for an average Syrian family in an urban area are almost US$700 a month.

• Hotels in Syria have a combined revenue of $279 million – split as five-star hotels $154m, all others $125m.

Landis compares this to one single five-star hotel in Beirut, the Phoenicia, which had revenues of $88 million last year. You could also – very unfairly – compare to Qatar, where the five-star sector took as much in one quarter as Syria’s five-star sector took in a year. What these figures hide, incidentally, is Syria’s growing strength in small “boutique” heritage hotels, many converted from historic mansions in Damascus and Aleppo – these count as luxury for guests (and are priced accordingly) but I believe don’t qualify as five-star properties.

The main point? As is self-evident to anyone who’s travelled there, Syria’s tourism infrastructure is virtually non-existent.

Travel is good

Two conclusions to draw. First, the obvious one: tourism puts millions of dollars into government coffers (which, in Syria, means the pockets of Assad’s family and friends). That can be hard to swallow. The figures quoted above are from 2008, when Syria was starting to making novelty appearances on newspaper-inspired travel wish-lists as a trending destination, and when journalists were visiting and writing enthusiastically.

Some people refuse to visit countries which have governments they deem oppressive – China, Israel, Zimbabwe, say – specifically because they don’t want their money to support tyrants. Others visit anyway in (hopefully) full knowledge of the situation, writing off the financial aspect in favour of the idea that one-to-one contacts can benefit both hosts and guests, often intangibly. I’m in the latter camp.

Governments, by necessity, work with mainstream players in the tourism industry. The least harmful way of spending money on travel in a place with unpleasant rulers can often be by travelling independently, or using small companies. But, sometimes, even that is not possible. Going to a place to see it with your own eyes can, on occasion, trump wider political considerations. I’d say bankroll a tyrant, if you can then use your experience to positive effect. Travel is good.

Shrink-wrapped

Mosaic, Maarat al-Numan

The second conclusion is only a bit of dreaming about how tourism could work wonders for a democratic Syria. The kinds of problems Egypt and Tunisia are now facing, having to correct decades of endemic corruption in their tourism industries, wouldn’t exist. That’s not to say Syrian corruption isn’t equally bad – it is – but as the figures above show, there’s been virtually no tourism industry to corrupt. The slate wouldn’t be so much clean as still shrink-wrapped.

Syria also wouldn’t have to invest billions to try and implant a concept of tourism, as Qatar and the UAE have done. The concept is already in place. This is a worldly, cosmopolitan society. People understand travel. People also understand entrepreneurship and self-sufficiency, having struggled under authoritarian top-down incompetence for years. With a bit of encouragement, Syria could be a model of development in grassroots, community-led tourism.

Jordanian tourism has had a thirty-year jump start on Syria. But once the Syrian people get the government they deserve, it’s not hard to see Syria taking a generation or less to leapfrog its neighbour. The country is vast, with historical and cultural interest to keep a visitor occupied for weeks or months. Traditions of hospitality are ingrained. Topography is diverse. Flying times from Europe and the Gulf are short. It’s not pie in the sky to imagine Syrian holidays as popular as Turkish or Moroccan.

Syria could even copy Egypt (perhaps Portugal or Cyprus are more equitable models), and use its Mediterranean coastline – remote, underdeveloped, west-facing – to corral sun-seeking northern Europeans, flying them direct to the beach and out again. Damascus could be a Barcelona. Palmyra could be an Pompeii.

Dream over. That’s going to take a revolution.

For Rum background, click here, here, here and here.

Few outsiders know Wadi Rum as well as British climbers Tony Howard and Di Taylor. Since their first visit 27 years ago, Tony and Di have been exploring trekking paths and climbing routes all across these rugged landscapes in partnership with the Bedouin, bringing local knowledge to a global audience with unique sensitivity and insight. Several books have resulted, notably Treks and Climbs in Wadi Rum and its partner volume Jordan: Walks, Treks, Caves, Climbs and Canyons. Tony remains an authority on sustainable adventure tourism to Jordan and many other destinations – his publications list takes in Norway, Oman, England and Palestine. His most recent book, Troll Wall, describes his pioneering 1965 ascent of Europe’s tallest rock face. Tony returns to Wadi Rum every year, staying for weeks at a time with the Bedouin.

When the news of Rum’s UNESCO listing broke, I asked Tony if he would like to contribute an article for this website. I’m delighted he said yes. This is what he wrote:

Wadi Rum’s UNESCO World Heritage status has been a long time coming. Some may say it’s not come soon enough; others wonder if it should have happened at all. But Lawrence‘s “Rum the magnificent” is more than deserving – its natural and archaeological wonders are outstanding and both the Old Testament and the Holy Koran are believed to make reference to its culture.

Why then any concern? For many, the main worry is can the area and its people – the Bedouin – cope with the huge increase in tourism that the designation of World Heritage Site will bring? Despite the best efforts of Jordan’s RSCN to protect the core area, it already shows signs of overuse: one must accept that Rum village has grown out of all proportion – when we first arrived in 1984, only Bedouin tents and half a dozen houses surrounded Rum’s fort – but the valley-wide proliferation of vehicle tracks that now head south from the village to the tourism hotspots can hardly be described as welcome. Nor can the ever-increasing number of ‘tourist camps’ which already dot most of the valleys. It is, of course, good that as always the local people are taking the initiative, but while some of these camps are discreet and well managed, others are incongruous – and some are not even owned by Bedouin.

One wonders what type of accommodation the new Rum will have, and where, and how that new accommodation will impact on the site and the ongoing success of the existing Bedouin-run tourist camps.

At peak periods in Rum there are already too many tourists. What then, when the numbers double (as they could)? What effect will that have on the ambience of Rum, its quiet valleys and those people still trying to live their lives peaceably, in the desert? Will outsiders with no knowledge of Rum, its wild places, its culture, its tourism be drafted in as guides and drivers? What new rules and regulations will appear? Will the almost year-round mainstay of Rum’s sustainable tourism – the environmentally aware adventure tourists, trekkers and climbers enjoying what’s been dubbed the world’s best desert climbing area – be faced, as they are in Petra, with ill-considered and impossible demands to hire guides, when in truth guides are not needed by those with sufficient experience? Already Rum has insufficient guides for those visitors who do require them.

And will any of this benefit the area – and more importantly its people? If the evidence of the Wadi Rum Visitor Centre is anything to go by, the answer is probably not. Prior to its construction in 2004, the Bedouin of Rum could wait in their houses until it was their turn in the rota to drive tourists into the desert. Now all the drivers must go 7km to the Visitor Centre and sit around all day waiting for business. No shelter is provided for them. All these cars doing miles of pointless driving pumps unnecessary pollutants into the valley air every day.

So if Rum’s new World Heritage status is to protect the area and benefit its people, its culture and its visitors (both adventure tourists and mainstream tourists), a lot of work has to be done – and quickly. Let us hope that those who undertake this task will work fully with the local people to understand their needs – and the needs of all types of tourists.

Article is © Tony Howard, 27/06/2011. Author contact here.

The best-known is the Kingdom Tower, also known as the Potato Peeler – or the Vest – for, well, obvious visual reasons. It holds offices, malls, apartments, a hotel and a fancy restaurant at the top. People like to use it as a symbol of the glitziness and contemporary zip of Riyadh.

But Riyadh is not glitzy. It has precious little contemporary zip. In truth, the Kingdom Tower looks like a giant alien spaceship, plopped down in an ordinary city as if from some other planet.

The other skyscraper is the Faisaliah Centre, just down the street. It, too, holds offices, malls, apartments, a hotel and a fancy restaurant at the top, housed within a giant golden sphere which is ringed by a high-level viewing gallery.

For some visitors that’s pretty much all they see of Riyadh’s public spaces. Not their fault. I found this an incredibly difficult city to penetrate – blank, dour, unused to outsiders, reserved, wary. The street running alongside those skyscrapers is Olaya Street, famed as the ritziest address in Riyadh. I didn’t think it was ritzy at all. This is what it looks like – and that’s pretty much the extent of Riyadh’s public transport, too.

I took several walks through the poorer downtown commercial areas. These are short one-minute clips of what the streets looked and sounded like, shot on my phone.

This next video is the same sort of thing, starting from the Bab Al-Thumairi gateway, which used to look like this. The new arch across the street, where the video begins, caught my eye for its calligraphy – my pic below shows “There is no God but God” in Arabic.

Still life with office chair.

As across Saudi Arabia, everything stops at prayer time (roughly dawn, noon, mid-afternoon, sunset and dusk). During business hours, that means shops close for 15 or 20 minutes after each call to prayer: staff bring the shutters down. In the souk, shopkeepers simply hook a length of cloth around the front of their shop – see video below.

Then, after the sunset prayer, people – well, some people – head to the malls. This is a walk into the Faisaliah mall, within that big skyscraper I talked about at the top of this post.

Riyadh’s a hot, dry, bleak, desert city, right? Well, in parts. This girl was enjoying the greenery at one of the public parks in the south of Riyadh, alongside the Wadi Hanifa, one weekend afternoon.

Back to the world of tourism. Riyadh’s National Museum is outstanding, perhaps the finest museum in the entire Middle East. I spent hours there. This rather ghostly scene is the museum’s haj gallery, housing a model of Mecca, explanations about what the haj means and a history of the pilgrimage. I loved it.

I could wobble on about Riyadh’s history, about the politics of the place, the deprivation, the economic divisions, the beauty, the architecture, the velvety dry heat, the sustainable development, the unsustainable development… but I’m not going to. This is just a bit of travel blogging. Eye-candy.

Tell me what you think of it.

Tunisia was amazing. Egypt is astounding. Bahrain boggles the imagination. Libya is off the scale. At the time of writing, none of those 4 revolutions is resolved. And there is also Yemen, Algeria, Morocco, even – staggeringly – Syria. Of a different character, but no less significant in their own way, are protests in Jordan and Oman, government handouts in Kuwait and Saudi Arabia, and even baby-steps towards parliamentary elections in the UAE. Lebanon, Iraq, Palestine and Israel may be fairly said to have their own concerns right now. That only leaves Qatar. Nuff said.

Anyone who’s been following me on Twitter will know that I’ve been trying to keep on top of the changing situations across the region day by day, which is a full-time job in itself. But this is a tourism blog, not a news digest – and I’ve held off from blogging travel titbits, since just about the only noteworthy tourism issues arising so far from these multiple revolutions have focused on less-than-gripping tales of Western governments’ efforts to repatriate their stranded citizens.

But the role of tourism in all this has increasingly felt rather seedy to me. Throughout the Egyptian revolution, governments and the travel industry kept on maintaining that Sharm and the Red Sea resorts were completely safe and unaffected by the upheavals in Cairo and around the rest of the country. Two British travel writers – who I won’t name, for their sakes – were flown into Sharm during the protests to ‘experience’ a luxury hotel. They did a bit of desert touring, tweeted about how peaceful it all was, and took some vox pops (which, unsurprisingly, were all about wanting to encourage tourists back – and this was before Mubarak had resigned).

That shocked me. It highlighted just how detached Egyptian tourism had become from Egyptian life. While people from all sectors of society, in all parts of the country, were engaging in serious political action – perhaps for the first time in their lives – all some Westerners seemed to care about was their ‘right’ to relax on the beach. The industrialised mass tourism which Sharm (and other places) specialise in filters virtually no money back to the communities which host it: a huge proportion of the cash spent on a typical Sharm holiday remains either outside Egypt altogether, or in the hands of inbound tourism conglomerates controlled by the kind of tycoons Mubarak’s regime favoured. People don’t go to Sharm, or Taba, or Hurghada, or El Gouna, or Marsa Alam, or any of Egypt’s other chiefly purpose-built seaside resorts in order to engage with Egyptian culture, or to enjoy a characteristically Egyptian beachfront scene. Most of these places didn’t even exist before mass tourism anyway; there often *is* no local “scene” other than tourism. People go because it’s sunny, cheap and you can fly there directly.

Is that bad? Well, since you’re asking me, yes it is bad – but some people like that sort of disconnect. What got my goat was that such disconnects enable Mr & Mrs Westerner to lie on sunloungers being served cocktails by Mr Egyptian, even while Mr Egyptian’s country is in flames as society is being completely reshaped by events a few hours’ drive away – and that Mr & Mrs Westerner are able to feel good about it because they are ‘supporting’ a vital plank of Egypt’s economy by not cancelling their holiday. Airlines and holiday firms kept on flying tourists into Egypt throughout the revolution.

That’s wrong. That’s a moral problem. If your tourism doesn’t allow your hosts to retain their dignity, you need to change your tourism. Dignity comes through income, sure. But nobody – in the UK anyway – seemed to relate industry calls for continued tourism to noses in troughs. At no point did the UK government advise its citizens not to go on holiday to Egypt (if it had done, then the rules on insurance reimbursement would have changed, whereupon the travel industry could have pulled out without losing money). I might be naive, but that is a failing of British foreign policy. Equally, the travel industry’s current reliance on Foreign Office travel advice benefits insurers (and reinsurers), not the industry – and certainly not holidaymakers.

Looking ahead, Bahrain and Libya don’t have anything like the same level of tourism – but the last couple of days have seen violent protests in Oman, which has a flourishing and important tourism sector. If the violence there escalates, will we see the same thing – Westerners holed up in luxury hotels, pretending all is normal, while Omanis try to reshape their society around them? It’s hard to tell. One complicating factor is that, unlike in Egypt, in Oman tourism is concentrated in the capital.

Globally, tourism is dangerously close to getting too big for its boots. It seems to enjoy being last out – only halting altogether under extreme duress – and, above all, being first back in, even while the last stones are being placed on fresh graves. That’s topsy-turvy. When people are trying to grasp political power previously denied to them, holidays become unimportant. They should stop. We should stop them.

The reality, though, isn’t quite so rosy. The common visa would only be issued for tourists travelling in groups. Independent travellers – that substantial bloc of price-conscious, culturally aware, potentially high-spending visitors – are being given the cold shoulder yet again.

And then, when you think about it, do visa issues actually hinder group tourism in these four countries at the moment? Probably not. Although Jordan’s tourism minister Zeid Goussous is quoted as saying a common visa would encourage more tourists from faraway countries such as Latin America, I’d suggest a far greater disincentive for people in Asia or the Americas contemplating a long-haul holiday in the Middle East might be the perceived threat of violence or terrorism, the unfamiliarity of the destination(s), the high cost of international travel and ground arrangements, and/or the necessity of taking 10-14 days’ holiday at a minimum to justify the long flight. Red tape on the border is rarely an issue for group tourists, who get all their paperwork handled by their tour company.

(By contrast, bureaucracy for independent travellers at Middle Eastern border crossings can be miserable – but independent travellers will not qualify for these common visas. An opportunity missed.)

A key question, unanswered in the news report, is how much the visa would cost. That could make the difference between successful stimulation of a semi-dormant market – and negligible returns on yet more diplomatic hot air.

Separately, I’d also suggest that people coming to the Levant from, specifically, Latin America would very likely want to be visiting the Christian holy sites in Jerusalem, Bethlehem and Nazareth rather than lazing in Beirut or ballooning in Cappadocia – but Palestine and Israel are specifically excluded from these visa proposals.

So is this the wrong visa, for the wrong people, at the wrong time? No. Any moves to cut red tape must be welcomed – and it seems to me the whole Latin America thing is a red herring: this is, in truth, focused on tapping growing markets in India, China and East Asia for overseas leisure tourism.

Middle Eastern cooperation, in whatever form, is good. From such initiatives do greater visions take hold. Bring on the common visa.

easyJet is intending to operate three flights a week from London Gatwick to Amman’s Queen Alia airport, with an unbelievably low lead-in price of £106 return (US$168; JD118). That price is likely to apply to very few flights – but even if a more usual fare turns out to be double (or even triple) that figure, it will still represent by far the cheapest way to get to Jordan.

It’s hard to overestimate the potential impact. It is, in short, the biggest shot-in-the-arm for Jordanian tourism from the UK (and, arguably, for Jordanian tourism in general) since, well, ever.

For years, Jordan has suffered from poor access and high fares. Two airlines fly direct between London and Amman – BMI and Royal Jordanian. Both operate out of Britain’s least favourite airport, London Heathrow, and it’s difficult to find fares on either of less than about £450 return. From London it’s often considerably more expensive to fly to Amman (3600km) than to Muscat (5800km).

Is that through lack of demand, or lack of opportunity? Well, we’re about to find out. I’m afraid easyJet’s arrival will be a kick in the pants for both RJ and BMI.

But this doesn’t only put the cat among the pigeons as far as the airlines go. Can Jordan itself actually cope with increased numbers of British travellers on short breaks and sun-seeking holidays?

Jordan’s high visa fees, and absurdly high entry prices at Petra, will put some off.

The over-concentration of five-star hotels in Amman, Aqaba and the Dead Sea – and the lack of high-quality three- and four-star midrange properties around the country – will be shown to be a mistake.

Jordan’s focus on pouring resources into developing package tourism, to the detriment of the independent travel sector, will be exposed as short-sighted.

And cultural issues, as Brits arrive expecting Amman to be like Sharm el-Sheikh or Aqaba to be like Hurghada, may be thrown into sharp focus. Ryanair’s cheap flights to the ancient Moroccan city of Fez have been a stop-start affair, not wholly welcomed on all sides.

On the plus side – well, it hardly needs saying. This puts Jordan into the ‘A’ league of European destinations. The increased exposure, simply through being on easyJet’s route listing, is invaluable. It opens up a whole new market for Jordan, price-sensitive but potentially high-spending independent visitors, who have previously been overlooked. Tourism accounts for roughly 20% of Jordan’s GDP (the country’s second-highest earner) and employs roughly 40,000 people, thereby supporting perhaps as many as a quarter of a million Jordanians, out of a total population around 6 million. It’s not an exaggeration to say that easyJet’s arrival could signal a rise in Jordan’s standard of living.

But perhaps the most important aspect of easyJet’s announcement is the vote of confidence it represents in promoting Jordan as a safe, decent, worthwhile place to go on holiday, regardless of whatever might be going on across the border in neighbouring countries. For years now, the negative impressions garnered from the news media, and allied concerns about personal safety, have been the single hardest barrier for Jordanian tourism marketeers to surmount. Amman’s appearance in easyJet’s big, bright, friendly, orange ads, alongside Corfu, Tenerife and Majorca, is the kind of PR money simply cannot buy.

Incidentally, this is also the first British low-cost routing to an Arab capital city. I don’t want to get too dewy-eyed about it, but there’s an undeniable element of bridging a certain awareness gap there. More Westerners experiencing Arab and Muslim society first-hand, from the inside, can only be a good thing.

I sincerely hope the Jordanian tourism industry – and Jordanian society – can flex with what is a seismic shift. Heaven knows Jordan needs easyJet; but, in truth, does easyJet need Jordan? I really hope that, by the end of 2011, it will be obvious they do.

The cost of a single-entry visa is doubling to 20JD (or US$30 equivalent; roughly £19).

A new category is being created for a double-entry visa, at 30JD (or US$45 equivalent; roughly £28).

And a multiple-entry visa is trebling in price, to 60JD (or US$85 equivalent; roughly £54).

These apply only to individual travellers. People arriving in Jordan in a group of five or more, booked through a tour operator, travelling together and staying for more than two nights, qualify for free visas.

(Presumably, visa fees if you arrive by land, air or sea at Aqaba remain free, under Jordan’s desperately confusing system of semi-autonomous administration for the Aqaba duty-free zone “ASEZA“.)

This comes on top of this year’s huge rises in entry fees to Petra, which now stand at 50JD (US$70/£45) for one day, rising to 60JD (US$85/£54) for three days – or an eye-watering 90JD (US$126/£80) if you are on a daytrip to Jordan from elsewhere.

These numbers do their own talking. As regular visitors to this blog will know, I have spent a lot of time in Jordan, and I love the country very much. On the back of figures stating that 48% of foreign holidays taken by Brits in 2009-10 were individual trips NOT booked through a tour operator, I am perplexed – and worried – by this latest decision. It sends the wrong message to the market and I believe could paint Jordan into a corner, forcing the country to rely more and more on group trade in years to come – just when potential visitors from Europe and North America are seeking more flexibility and niche value to their holidays.

I hope it doesn’t backfire.

Peter Hill, Oman Air CEO

Oman Air is quietly working wonders. From a standing start in 2007, when Oman pulled out of the then-multicountry Gulf Air to focus on developing its own national carrier, the airline has gained a reputation for excellence, even while facing down competition from the ‘big three’ Gulf carriers, Emirates, Etihad and Qatar Airways. Peter Hill, appointed CEO in 2008, was one of the original founders of Emirates in the 1980s and previously ran Sri Lankan Airlines. He spoke to me on 9 November 2010 at World Travel Market in London; below are edited extracts of the interview.

Matthew Teller: What makes Oman Air unique?

Peter Hill: That is aligned to what makes Oman unique. We look after the travel needs of Oman from an outbound perspective, and provide nonstop, point-to-point air service. The government is looking to attract overseas business and leisure to the unique destination that is Oman, and we are working with the tourist board to make the world aware of what Oman has to offer.

Oman doesn’t have the glitz and glamour of man-made cities in this region. The national qualities of the country are [very special] – nature, peace and solitude. It’s a vast country which doesn’t have millions of people. It’s very relaxed. In Oman there is space, without the buzz of traffic.

But Oman is not as well known as it could be. We, as an airline, are working for 10-15 years ahead: we’re not going to be a global carrier, but we are aiming to become a significant player in the regional network and on routes from Europe, the Far East and Africa. There is plenty of capacity in the market.

MT: All of this is focused on drawing traffic into Oman. Is there any focus on developing a market for outbound travel from Oman?

PH: Abs0lutely. To give one example, many Omanis are buying second homes in Malaysia – the Malaysian government has set up tax breaks, made buying property an attractive option, with particular appeal to the Gulf market. Malaysia is a Muslim country, where many people speak Arabic and English – it’s an attractive option for many people. We are now codesharing with Malaysia Airlines, and seeing a lot of interest in our Muscat-KL route.

MT: Over the last year or so there’s been a series of announcements about Oman Air innovations, from the “most luxurious toilet” to onboard wifi. At a time when the industry is under great pressure, and carriers around the world are examining every element of cost in detail, why is Oman Air choosing to invest so heavily in passenger comfort?

PH: We were a late starter. Now we are competing directly with other Gulf carriers, who have set such high standards. If we will be able to make any penetration at all, we have to look at different ways of doing things. We can leverage value by doing it well – and that means improving service and experience.

I think we’re refreshing to travel with. We’ve invested hugely in interiors, in developing cuisines with imagination, a choice of wines. We offer 34-inch pitch in economy, wifi on board, you can use your mobile phone as normal once the plane reaches 10,000 feet, there’s video on demand in all classes – even live TV from BBC World, Al Jazeera, Bloomberg… It’s the challenge of being first. Someone needs to set the trend.

The sorts of complaints coming from legacy carriers in Europe – I just wonder, are these sour grapes? Are they crying because their lack of investment has simply left them uncompetitive, in comparison with Gulf carriers? People vote with their wallet. If an airline is offering pneumatic earphones, or electric headphones with an old drop-down screen, as against our technology for the same price, who are you going to go with?

We see this investment as part of the government’s plan to put infrastructure in place that will serve Oman into the future.

MT: Is Oman Air meeting national targets for Omanisation?

PH: Well, the goal is 100% Omanisation! It is understood within the airline that expats are in place to impart our knowledge and then move on. If you discount the flight crew and cabin crew, then we are currently 68% Omani. If you add in the onboard crews that figure is around 63%. Compare that with some of our regional competitors, where the equivalent figure might be 6.3% rather than 63%.

Our senior management team of ten currently includes four Omani nationals. Among pilots, the proportion is roughly 50-50. Among cabin crew it’s nearer 30-70, though all our male cabin staff are Omani.

The key is in the social changes within Oman over the last couple of years. As the image of the airline improves nationally – and internationally – so parents will increasingly view a career in Oman Air, in whichever field, as a good choice for their sons and daughters, when that may not have been the case previously.

MT: When I tweeted about this interview this morning, several people expressed interest, including Arun Rajagopal, a social media manager in Dubai, who asked me to ask you when you expect Oman Air’s Boeing 787 aircraft to be delivered and if Oman Air has any more 737 deliveries to come. That ties into a question about social media in general – what is Oman Air’s strategy for developing a presence in social media?

PH: First, to answer Arun’s question, we have six 787s on order. Boeing-willing, we will get the first of those in the first half of 2014, then two in 2016, then two in 2018. For 737s, we have an order for six, which are due for delivery in 2013 – and, in addition, we have two Embraer jets due for delivery in March/April of next year [2011], to service new domestic and regional routes.

As far as the airline’s social media strategy, well, that is in its infancy. We’ve had a lot on our plate over the last 12 to 18 months, putting in core investment, but you will see our social media presence develop over the next year.

MT: As a final question, where do you see Oman Air in five years, and ten years?

PH: I want to see Oman Air being the preferred way to travel to or from Oman – the carrier of choice. We have 23 aircraft today; in five years that will grow to 28 or 30 aircraft, and in ten years to 36 or 38. We will be aiming for a maximum of only around 50 aircraft in total, in a mix of wide-bodied and single-aisled. I don’t see us bigger than that. We want to become a major player in the region, and a significant carrier to certain global destinations which have a pre-existing relationship with Oman, both in business and leisure.

MT: Thank you very much for your time.

All content is copyright © Matthew Teller 2010. All rights reserved. Please ask me if you wish to use extracts of this material in your own content. I will usually grant consent, as long as you link back to this page.

I like the “20″. Makes me wonder: if you get to 400,000 miles in a year, do you notice the extra 20? I mean, does it drag, like the last section of a climb, or does it just sail by like all the rest?

It has to be said, though. Despite that mind-bending figure – well over 1,000 miles every single day, on average, or the annual equivalent of more than sixteen times around the Earth – it’s small beer for some. This guy Tom Stuker does more than half as much again, rather like the George Clooney character in the movie Up In The Air.

But Greenberg looked great on it. Lovely guy, really easy to talk to, very down to earth (if that’s not a contradiction in terms). He told me he never travels with checked luggage: at any one time, he has half a dozen suitcases in transit with Fedex, tracking him around the world, so they’re always there – wherever ‘there’ is – when he is. He has six houses in various countries, so if he sees something he wants to own, he buys six of them, keeps one with him and Fedexes the other five.

What struck me most, though, was that someone who is pretty much a household name in America could walk down the street in London without a glance. No disrespect to Greenberg, but despite his eminent status – and everyday prominence – he’s not just virtually unknown in Britain; I’d say he’s completely unknown. Simon Calder, Britain’s nearest equivalent to Greenberg in terms of being a serious investigative travel journalist who is perpetually on the go, could similarly (no disrespect again intended) walk down the street in NYC in peace and quiet, I’d guess.

That says a lot about this very strange industry, by definition global and outward looking, but in practice completely insular and market-restricted. US travel – its history, its direction, its favourite destinations, its preoccupations, its style – has extraordinarily little in common with, say, British travel. And British travel has got virtually nothing to do with French travel or Spanish travel, which are completely different again from Israeli, Korean or South African travel.

On the cusp of World Travel Market – one of the biggest annual events in the travel industry, which starts tomorrow in London and absorbs huge amounts of attention among travel professionals – it seems obvious to me that there is no travel industry, at least not globally. Every market is talking to itself. Although the customers are thinking about anywhere but home, for the professionals every scrap of attention is focused on what ‘home’ does.

And that goes for travel journalism, too. It’s delicious: the most determinedly global, outward-looking, cosmopolitan branch of journalism is in fact the most parochial of the lot. Travel journalism obsesses about domestic trends. Celeb gossip, business news, sport and fashion are all far more global than travel could ever be. They, at least, speak to the world.

Good on Greenberg; long may he keep flying. Journalists with his depth of knowledge, dedication and expertise are rare. This odd little business needs him.

The walk has been developed by Anna Dintaman and David Landis – lovely people, who I met and walked with in southern Israel last year. The Jesus Trail has been totally self-motivated: they’ve plotted it, waymarked it, GPS’d it and now they’ve just published a map and guidebook to the whole trail. (Disclosure: they very kindly sent me an unrequested free copy, not so’s I could blog about it but just because! I’m blogging because I like it…)

I’ve only had a quick skim through, but it seems excellent to me – full colour, loads of maps, route plans, detailed walking info – but also loads of insight. Anna and David live in Nazareth, at one end of the trail, and clearly know Israeli culture and Palestinian culture very well.

It’s an incredible achievement, to have put this amount of personal time, energy and resources into opening up ways for ordinary visitors to access village culture. And, despite the trail’s name, it’s up to you whether you want to also buy into the religious motivations for walking these particular routes or not. Like Abraham’s Path, like the St Paul Trail, the point is to put your feet on the ground. Anything that encourages grassroots travel and personal encounters in a place like the Middle East, so smothered with negative images, is a good thing. Buy the book!

I really enjoyed it – I thought the host, Vicky Letch, did a great job setting the right atmosphere and it’s always fun seeing how these shows are put together. It was live, but didn’t feel like it. Enjoy.

Link here.

A tide of follow-up coverage included this opinion piece by travel writer Doug Lansky – originally posted on his Twitter stream and re-tweeted by San Francisco Chronicle travel editor Spud Hilton. It begins: “Dubai needs to make a decision. If they want to position themselves as a major tourist destination and business hub for Westerners and the rest of the world, they’re going to need to make some adjustments.”

Just to put this statement into context, here is some reaction to previous Dubai bad news stories. Back in 2007 the blog One Big Construction Site asserted: “Dubai has to decide whether it wants to become a giant Disney land devoid of its own culture.” Rashed Al Suwaidi, a reader of Abu Dhabi newspaper The National, responded to a poll in 2008 about indecency on public beaches by saying: “The UAE, especially Dubai, must decide what type of tourism it wants to encourage.”

In 2009 the blog Enduring Wanderlust mulled a change in Dubai’s decency laws, to which a reader, Kim Woodbridge, responded: “It’s important to respect the norms of the local culture. That being said Dubai needs to decide what they want to be.” A story by Mimi Chakarova for the PBS show Frontline World about prostitution and sex trafficking led one reader to assert: “Dubai needs to decide if it is a country bound by Islamic scripture or a country willing to allow what many consider immoral behavior.” As the Dubai newspaper 7Days reported the jailing of a woman for kissing in public earlier this year, one reader commented: “Dubai needs to decide whether it wants to welcome Western tourists or not.”

That’s an awful lot of deciding Dubai has to do.

In truth, of course, Dubai doesn’t have to decide anything, other than to do the best thing by its own people. Do we ever hear “France has to decide…”, “China has to decide…”, “Mexico has to decide…” Of course not. We all know French, Chinese and Mexican culture to be solid, rooted, uncontroversial. But someone digs a verbal rut and, forever after, everyone falls into it. The impression for the last twenty-odd years, since Dubai stopped being a little-known port city on a remote waterway, has been that there is some kind of dichotomy in Dubai’s make-up between being modern and being Arab, being contemporary and being Muslim, being exciting and being religious – and between all of them and also attracting mass tourism.

Such an impression is false. There is no dichotomy.

Culture is very hard to define. Broadly, you could say “it’s the way we do things here” – “we” being any group or person you fancy, “way” and “do” meaning whatever you want them to mean, “things” referring to whatever you want it to refer to, and “here” being anywhere from this room to this continent (or continents). We often use our culture as an instrument of power; imagining it to be the norm, we deride others for doing something different. By doing so, we identify ourselves as part of a majority, separate from a perceived minority. It’s very tribal.

Individual travellers know themselves to be in a minority when they travel – that’s often why they do it – so many deliberately try to suppress their own culture, in favour of learning about their hosts’ culture (and perhaps adopting some aspects of it). Andy Jarosz, who blogs at 501 Places, has written about it. By contrast many people who travel in groups, and expats, retain their majority identity, since they often deliberately surround themselves with people who share their culture. They then feel freer about ignoring – or deriding – their hosts’ culture, and asserting their own in opposition to it. This is what seems to have happened with this bikini story. Very tribal.

Faced with Dubai’s assertion of its own culture, visitors feel themselves shunted into a minority. It’s not a nice feeling, so journalists and travel bloggers write what appear (to their readers) eminently reasonable pieces insisting that something’s simply not right here, it’s all messed up and that Dubai simply must decide what it’s going to do in order to make them feel welcome – that is, part of the majority – again.

The truth is, of course, visitors to Dubai need to decide how they want to act. If they don’t care about their hosts’ culture, there’s a clear path of cultural assertion to follow.

If, however, they understand that their way of doing things is only one way of doing things – and that, much as lots of people in Britain might object to someone spitting on a bus, picking their nose or farting noisily in public (all things which, in different cultures, are perfectly normal mainstream behaviour), lots of people in Dubai object to low-cut tops and public displays of affection – then the tide of bad news/clash of culture stories coming out of Dubai might eventually slow to nothing.