Holidays In Hell

By Kevin Fedarko

You drool over the alluring brochures. Ah, the pristine beaches. Elegant cafes. Spectacular mountain scenery. It all sounds great. Then you look at the fine print: the beaches are in the poverty-racked Gaza Strip, the cafes in bombed-out Dubrovnik, the mountains in war-torn eastern Turkey. They have got to be kidding.

But they're not. Witness the experience of British engineer David Rowbottom and his Australian cousin Tania Miller, who were entranced by the promise of dramatic vistas in Turkey until they found themselves staring down the gun barrels of insurgents from the Kurdistan Workers Party, a guerrilla group lately kidnapping tourists as part of its war for independence. After packing Rowbottom and Miller around the backcountry for five weeks to avoid searches by the Turkish army, the guerrillas freed the couple last week. Rowbottom and Miller expressed relief at being released alive and unharmed. They did not indicate, however, whether they had heard the Central Asian proverb "Travel is a foretaste of hell."

And so it can be -- especially for wanderers smitten by places they ought to think twice about: where quaint cultures run up against armored jeeps charging through city streets, where emergency travel kits had best include not just a bottle of Lomotil but also a bulletproof vest. The surprise is not that such dangers exist but that so many of the countries where they are commonplace want you to spend your vacation there. In the relentless quest for the tourist dollar, even places like Kashmir (400 civilians killed last month) and North Korea (no casualties, but why go?) are advertising their supposed charms. "Be a Chinese soldier for a day" gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "military tour." "Visit Shibam, famous for its exquisite Yemenite architecture." Oops, forgot to mention the bands of armed tribesmen who routinely kidnap Westerners. "Revel in the spectacular scenery of Vietnam's China Beach." Regret that most hotels are Stalinist-style tenements built by the Soviets.

Some of these unusual holiday destinations are paradise spots overtaken by war and now struggling to revive their once thriving tourist trades. Others have no such amenities but keenly understand that tourism can create jobs and raise cash faster than almost any other industry. And then there are those corners of the world that are saddled with unfortunate reputations yet offer fascinating, if decidedly inconvenient, experiences.

Venturing into a quasi-war zone such as Cambodia is a traveler's gamble. A group of Mexican tourists recently spotted in the lobby of Phnom Penh's sole luxury hotel were snapping pictures of a wooden model of Angkor Wat, the country's famous 9th century temple complex -- as close as they would get to the real thing. Just days before, Khmer Rouge guerrillas had attacked Siem Reap, the city next to the ruins, and the group's guide refused to go near the place. The Mexicans were forced to content themselves with Phnom Penh -- a city whose attractions include the Tuol Sleng Museum, a high school used as a torture chamber and prison during Pol Pot's reign. Tourists who do make it to Angkor Wat are repeatedly reminded to stay on the paths; hundreds of Khmer Rouge land mines are buried around the temples. It is also advisable to give the Kalashnikov-toting militia men "guarding" the complex a dollar or two for their services -- so they don't steal all your money.

A bit too risky? Then how about a getaway to the Gaza Strip? Most people think of this section of the Israeli-occupied territories as a wretched, raging refugee camp. But it also offers a gorgeous, unspoiled slice of Mediterranean beach. The residents of Gush Katif, a collection of Jewish settlements on the Strip, bid visitors to come and swim, thanks to a new road from the Israeli border enabling tourists to skirt rebellious Palestinian villages -- and thus reduce the risk of a Molotov cocktail through the windshield. Although Gush Katif's Palestinian laborers have twice turned on their employers and stabbed two of them to death, spokeswoman Datya Herskovitz says not to worry: the attacks took place in the greenhouse district, not in the residential areas where visitors stay. She does caution, though, against roaming beyond the confines of Gush Katif. Several months ago, an Israeli businessman took a wrong turn into a Palestinian refugee camp and was shot dead.

Perhaps the most surprising thing is that many travelers do their best to seek out infamous mayhem. Which may explain the explosion of tourism in Northern Ireland, where the 24-year feud between Protestants and Catholics offers a kind of terrorism theme park. So great is the demand that Sinn Fein, the Irish Republican Army's political wing, keeps running out of its "freedom map" of West Belfast, which pinpoints the cemetery where hunger striker Bobby Sands is buried, British observation posts, and the "peace line," a concrete barricade separating the city's Catholic and Protestant districts. Tourists who follow the route can watch young boys from both sides of the wall catapult rocks onto their unseen neighbors.

Serious connoisseurs of violence, however, should call Massimo Beyerle in La Spezia, Italy, who is accepting bookings for his October War Zone tour of Lebanon. For $25,000, travelers can spend two weeks hunting for shrapnel in the Syrian-controlled Bekaa Valley, visiting the scene of the U.S. Marine barracks blown up in 1983 and dining in a Palestinian refugee camp. Beyerle says he also plans trips to Nicaragua, Somalia and parts of the former Soviet Union.

Traditionally, one of Europe's cheapest destinations has been Yugoslavia's Dalmatian coast, which once brought $2 billion a year into the province, now the Republic, of Croatia. But that was before war ravaged charming ports such as Dubrovnik. Croatian tourist officials are now repairing damaged buildings and discreetly moving refugees from beach hotels into the interior. Still, recovery is slow: car-rental agencies in neighboring countries have inserted into their contracts clauses canceling insurance the minute their vehicles enter Croatia.

The ardor with which spurned suitors such as Croatia are seeking travelers is matched only by the enthusiasm of countries that have never had much luck attracting visitors. Two years ago, in an effort to dramatize his country's openness, Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi personally bulldozed a customs house on the Egyptian border. The invitation was ignored. Earlier this May, Gaddafi retailored his message to welcome foreign firms interested in developing the country's exquisite but deserted beaches and superb collection of classical antiquities. What the colonel neglected to mention is that U.N. sanctions ban international flights to the country. Thirsty travelers who brave the long drive across the desert from Egypt or Tunisia will arrive to discover that alcohol is totally prohibited and that even water is in short supply.

Those who respond to the call of such adventures may well return home convinced that the Central Asians didn't get their proverb quite right. Done properly, this kind of travel is no "foretaste of hell." It's the real thing.

With reporting by Lisa Beyer/Gush Katif, Elizabeth Lea/London, Richard Hornik/Phnom Penh, with other bureaus