A(sphere) = 4πr2
Formula for calculating the surface area of a sphere, Archimedes, Proposition 33.
Hence, the Earth has a surface area of approximately 510 million square kilometres.
When I first started overlanding back in 1997, my intention was to set off on an extended journey lasting no more than a year or two. Well, that didn’t quite work out as planned. Nineteen years have passed since that fateful day and I’m still on the road. Between 1997 and 2000 I rode my Yamaha motorcycle – Puck – from Europe to New Zealand; then I circumnavigated the globe in 3,000 days with Matilda, a dilapidated classic Land Rover; and now, since 2012, I’m back on Puck’s saddle. What can I say? Vagabonding for a living is highly enjoyable and has become my way of life!
Nineteen years on the road … after that you might think I’d seen it all. You’d be wrong. Our planet has too many countries to really visit them all properly. Indeed, I sometimes wonder whether I’ve actually seen any country or city I’ve visited in the past. Everybody, from ordinary travellers on a motorcycle to world leaders in government (dare I say, especially our politicians?), is occasionally blind to what’s happening right in front of their eyes.
Sometimes this lack of awareness is intentional. When visiting Phnom Penh in Cambodia, for example, one doesn’t necessarily want to notice the septuagenarian Western men guzzling beer outside bars who have impossibly young and barely clothed local girls on their laps. At other times our blindness is involuntary. Hell, before my first cup of coffee in the morning I’m effectively comatose and wouldn’t be able to find my Yamaha keys if you dangled them right in front of my face. Either way, this “unawareness” has consequences – and I don’t mean that by closing your eyes you run the risk of slamming into a tree if you happen to be seated on a motorcycle.
No, the problem is that each and every one of us can only rely on our personal observations to gain a better understanding of the world and develop a balanced judgement of global affairs. Every other viewpoint, whether provided by media, governments or cultural environment, cannot be fully trusted. The realisation that we must be highly critical of second-hand information is a continuous thread I wove through my previous book. There’s only one solution: we must build our own subjective opinions.
Travellers like you and I have a few advantages: our judgements are based upon experiences gathered from the remotest corners of the globe so we needn’t depend upon hearsay or television. But still, is this enough? Are curiosity about foreign cultures and the will to learn from them sufficiently strong foundations on which to build a sound interpretation of what we witness? Or does it take more? I’d wager it does. If we’re not constantly on high alert, we’ll likely miss out on many disturbing as well as wonderful events throughout the world, and possibly behave like the commuters who walked passed Joshua Bell.
Do you know the story? In 2007, while I was still travelling through the Americas in Matilda, a Washington newspaper conducted an experiment. The idea was to test how people would react when something beautiful yet unexpected occurred in a commonplace environment. So a performance was arranged starring Joshua Bell, arguably the best violinist alive. Only this time he wasn’t going to play in a symphony hall – where the least expensive seats cost hundreds of dollars – but incognito, disguised as a busker, in the Washington D.C. Metro. Joshua made the entrance arcade of L’Enfant Plaza station come alive for 45 minutes by playing some of the most magnificent music ever composed, using a violin handcrafted in 1713 by Antonio Stradivari. And … hardly anybody stopped to listen. Of the 1,097 people who passed Joshua that day, only 27 threw some loose change into his violin case and just seven briefly broke their stride. For the remainder he was invisible, unworthy of a single glance, and when Joshua finished, no one applauded. Most that day never noticed that something highly unusual had just taken place. In fact, they had no recollection of a violinist in the station at all.
We can draw many parallels between the behaviour of some travellers – including myself – and those in L’Enfant Plaza. In the same way that the commuters may not have had time to listen because they were afraid to miss their trains, a few overlanders race around the world at such a speed they miss out on many small but magical roadside performances taking place every day. Were the commuters so preoccupied with work, responsibilities and problems that they didn’t notice the heavenly music? In the same way, some travellers are so focused on ticking off a “been there, done that” checklist that they fail to observe what’s not mentioned on the itinerary. It’s also possible that the commuters were unable to appreciate the violinist’s brilliance because they couldn’t imagine a world-class musician ever playing in a railway station. The same applies to travellers when they visit a new country with preconceived notions. Their perception might be influenced to such an extent that they only focus upon what they expect to see, and little else.
I’m sure that if someone invented an interactive book, where readers could talk directly to the author and vice versa, we’d discuss at great length all the possible reasons why our awareness is not always up to scratch. Alas, until this technology exists, our communication is going to be very one-sided. What a pity. I’m convinced that each of us has an amazing and unique collection of thoughts, travel experiences and life stories to tell, enabling us to find answers to these and many other questions. If all our tales were printed and published, they’d amount to a mind-boggling book! Please consider the following my little contribution to this notional volume: my account of four years on the road between Germany and Australia – what I noticed when I stopped, turned my head and listened.
I’m aware that most of you, dear readers, are likely to be travellers, or at least travel-curious. I make no distinction between those who take two-week holidays or embark on decade-long trips around the globe: we’re all united by the same desire to discover what lies beyond that strange, elusive horizon. In order to satisfy our curiosity, we must be willing to accept the side-effects of leaving the four walls we generally call home. Abroad, we encounter adventures and agonies, emotional zeniths and nadirs, and occasionally face quite a few philosophical conundrums. In the end, apart – we hope – from having enjoyed a great change of scene, we’ll return with a greater understanding of the world we live in.
It’s not only travelling that takes you out of your comfort zone: so can some travel books. The one you’re currently holding in your hands has this potential. Should you be a huge fan of politically correct portrayals of our planet, you might find a few passages disturbing. Oh, no need to fear; you don’t require a bulletproof vest when you take a virtual ride on my passenger seat – a helmet is enough. All I do is describe what I see without mincing my words to suit sensitive souls. This isn’t a “been there, done that, around the world in 80 days” travelogue, nor is it a motorcycle diary full of adrenaline adventures on two wheels. It’s also not a guidebook detailing how to cross certain borders and which bars to visit in Bangkok. It was never my intention to write a Lonely Planet guide or a manual about Yamaha bike maintenance. If any of these genres is your preferred literature, my Behind the Horizon books – Left, Right or otherwise – may not be what you were looking for. However, you might enjoy them nonetheless … and, of course, some adventurous elements are present; any overland voyage will propel the traveller into hazardous situations, and I’ll gladly share these experiences with you.
In addition to my description of the actual journey, you’ll discover occasional interludes, short “Intermezzos”, in which I discuss various overland-specific topics in greater detail. The four-part Over(land)ture is a travel melody. Inspired by Joshua Bell, I created it together with my dear friend and composer Irene van Duijvenvoorde. If you listen carefully, you may even hear how I change my motorcycle gears, lean into curves or cross the border into China. Finally, in the Epiludio, I’ve included a few practical travel tips, specifically for readers who have the ambition of embarking on their own intercontinental road trip. Just don’t be surprised if your voyage also ends up lasting a decade or two. This can happen more easily than you think – so don’t say I didn’t warn you!
After so many years on the road, my views have changed; I no longer wear rose-tinted glasses. Should my observations and conclusions contradict what our governments and mainstream media would like us to believe, then so be it. I wholeheartedly support freedom of speech and open dialogue, and will not follow social convention for the sake of conformity. The events I describe in this book are not open for debate anyway, since I witnessed them and I tell it as I saw it. However, we can gladly discuss my interpretations. Should your personal opinions on certain topics differ, based upon your first-hand experiences, then they are just as valid as mine. It’s not important who is right or wrong (opinions are always, by definition, subjective), but that we speak out our individual truths. Only peaceful dialogue, not coercion by means of intimidation or force, will provide a more accurate assessment of current affairs and solutions for many global issues. This is obviously an opinion, though I dearly wish it were a fact.
Books are always a snapshot in time. The one you are about to read is a document of the world as I witnessed it between 2012 and 2016. Yet between my voyage, and the date that is currently showing on your calendar, many months, years or even decades have passed. All I can say with absolute certainty is that if you were to leave on an overland journey today, some things in the world will have changed drastically since I journeyed through it, others only marginally and some things – perhaps – not at all. But that, dear reader, is for you to find out and, perhaps, write about.
So, let us now venture forth into the world and experience its cacophony of sights and sounds. Earth’s symphony is sometimes harmonious, sometimes discordant but always intoxicating! Veni, vidi, scripsi … et cantavi!