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3.86 AVERAGE
3.86 AVERAGE
The world is (still) on fire. Borders are still closed, airplanes are still grounded — some of them languishing in the middle of an Australian desert — and more than a million people have died from a virus with no vaccines in sight. The least of our problems now is when we will be able to make travel plans once again. Japan and Uzbekistan were on my 2020 plans but who knows when I will actually make it there again. In the meantime, though, I settled for the next best thing: a book about two Canadian women cycling across Asia before the world descended into a dumpster fire. I needed my itch to be scratched and, for the most part, this book did just that.
First off, I don't read a lot of travel memoirs (is that even the right term?). The ones that I have read usually involves some kind of horrific disaster, such as Jon Krakauer's Into Thin Air (being trapped on Mount Everest during the worst storm on record) and Alfred Lansing's Endurance (being trapped on packed ice in Antarctica). It's not that I don't have an interest in travel writing, though. It's just that, for the most part, I am drawn to stories of ordinary people (sometimes extraordinary ones) surviving extraordinary circumstances, and travel memoirs do often feature such stories. Books about people travelling from point A to point B, not really encountering any life-and-death situations along the way, just were not high on the list.
With that said, I have read — and enjoyed — some of the travel memoirs that I have read. Long Way Round by Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman is a close kin to Lands of Lost Borders by Kate Harris. Only, instead of motorcycles, you have heavily ladened bicycles. What I enjoy most about travel memoirs are the descriptions of places that I have never been to, the people they meet there, the cultures they encounter for the first time, as well as the stories along the way.
For the most part, Harris' Lands of Lost Borders delivers on all those fronts. I am particularly fond of the stories Harris tells in Turkey, Armenia, Georgia and Tibet — or anywhere with a long, complicated geo-political history, really. Tibet, in particular, is a place I travelled to in 2015, so her descriptions of the place — harsh, relentless landscape with unnatural amount of military presence — does hold true. I also really enjoy reading about the people she met along the way — and the kindness, too, especially from those with the least to offer. These are the moments that stay with you when you travel, and I am glad that I got a taste of that through Harris' travel through the region.
With that said, there are two main reasons why this book does not get the five-star rating. First, Harris is obviously a really intelligent human being. While her rumination about borders, ancient explorers and philosophy are interesting, some of them did indeed just glide over my head. Also, while some countries received full-chapter treatments, others had to share and be nice. For example, I really wanted to read about Uzbekistan because, as I mentioned, I was supposed to travel there this year. However, Harris breezed through the weeks/months she spent there, noting just the famous landmarks she saw along the way and the European tourists she saw there. Tajikistan, too, shares the chapter with Tibet, I believe, which is also strange because I too wanted to know more about the country. So even though the entire journey took months on end, some countries feel rushed, somehow.
If, like me, you have the itch to travel and love cycling — in fact, I have rediscovered my passion for it as of late — then this book is highly recommended.
First off, I don't read a lot of travel memoirs (is that even the right term?). The ones that I have read usually involves some kind of horrific disaster, such as Jon Krakauer's Into Thin Air (being trapped on Mount Everest during the worst storm on record) and Alfred Lansing's Endurance (being trapped on packed ice in Antarctica). It's not that I don't have an interest in travel writing, though. It's just that, for the most part, I am drawn to stories of ordinary people (sometimes extraordinary ones) surviving extraordinary circumstances, and travel memoirs do often feature such stories. Books about people travelling from point A to point B, not really encountering any life-and-death situations along the way, just were not high on the list.
With that said, I have read — and enjoyed — some of the travel memoirs that I have read. Long Way Round by Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman is a close kin to Lands of Lost Borders by Kate Harris. Only, instead of motorcycles, you have heavily ladened bicycles. What I enjoy most about travel memoirs are the descriptions of places that I have never been to, the people they meet there, the cultures they encounter for the first time, as well as the stories along the way.
For the most part, Harris' Lands of Lost Borders delivers on all those fronts. I am particularly fond of the stories Harris tells in Turkey, Armenia, Georgia and Tibet — or anywhere with a long, complicated geo-political history, really. Tibet, in particular, is a place I travelled to in 2015, so her descriptions of the place — harsh, relentless landscape with unnatural amount of military presence — does hold true. I also really enjoy reading about the people she met along the way — and the kindness, too, especially from those with the least to offer. These are the moments that stay with you when you travel, and I am glad that I got a taste of that through Harris' travel through the region.
With that said, there are two main reasons why this book does not get the five-star rating. First, Harris is obviously a really intelligent human being. While her rumination about borders, ancient explorers and philosophy are interesting, some of them did indeed just glide over my head. Also, while some countries received full-chapter treatments, others had to share and be nice. For example, I really wanted to read about Uzbekistan because, as I mentioned, I was supposed to travel there this year. However, Harris breezed through the weeks/months she spent there, noting just the famous landmarks she saw along the way and the European tourists she saw there. Tajikistan, too, shares the chapter with Tibet, I believe, which is also strange because I too wanted to know more about the country. So even though the entire journey took months on end, some countries feel rushed, somehow.
If, like me, you have the itch to travel and love cycling — in fact, I have rediscovered my passion for it as of late — then this book is highly recommended.
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
slow-paced
A good adventure story. Relatable in some way to anyone who has a longing for wild places and far away destinations. An easy read but filled with adventure and tidbits of information and some things that make you think.
How this came into my world is a nice story. I had just walked into 'Cafe Books' in Canmore, AB and was perusing their travel books. The salesperson came over and asked if I liked women explorer books. I said yes and she recommended this one. I'm sure I wouldn't have noticed it on the shelves. The salesperson told me the author had won an award at the Banff mountain film festival.
Of course, I'd loved Dervla Murphy's books about her biking adventures - so I was in! I am also interested in the Silk Road since a business trip took me to Dunhuang and I saw the Buddhist caves.
Kate Harris has an impressive educational CV and really did want to travel to Mars. She has an explorers spirit - and even though the world is mapped she shows exploration is still possible. Her observations about the problems with borders in our world is so true. Her book isn't particularly optimistic. I'm still mulling the thought of how the "big blue marble" photo of the earth hasn't made nationalism go away.
A quote that I like: "But exploration, more than anything, is like falling in love: the experience feels singular, unprecedented and revolutionary, despite the fact that others have been there before."
My world right now doesn't seem to have a lot of opportunity for exploration, but reading Harris (and her friend Mel Yule) reminded me of the importance keeping on trying to crossing borders.
Of course, I'd loved Dervla Murphy's books about her biking adventures - so I was in! I am also interested in the Silk Road since a business trip took me to Dunhuang and I saw the Buddhist caves.
Kate Harris has an impressive educational CV and really did want to travel to Mars. She has an explorers spirit - and even though the world is mapped she shows exploration is still possible. Her observations about the problems with borders in our world is so true. Her book isn't particularly optimistic. I'm still mulling the thought of how the "big blue marble" photo of the earth hasn't made nationalism go away.
A quote that I like: "But exploration, more than anything, is like falling in love: the experience feels singular, unprecedented and revolutionary, despite the fact that others have been there before."
My world right now doesn't seem to have a lot of opportunity for exploration, but reading Harris (and her friend Mel Yule) reminded me of the importance keeping on trying to crossing borders.
There are places where there is a stark contrast between beauty and despair separated only by a few hours. Slices of Earth which taste both bitter and sweet. Lines which cannot be seen anywhere but on a map, which of course is drawn by humans and a different group of Homo sapiens May draw that line elsewhere or nowhere. Rarely are these places found in ‘developed’ nations or cities. Often they have been impacted by the rise and fall of empires and civilizations. It is into these worlds that Kate takes us by bicycle. Feeling the spaces far more intimately than one could in a car, train or plane and still cognizant that she is separate from it and looking in from her own lens.
Not your typical travel writing. If you want a general cycling adventure book you might pass. If you want a look into a bit of history and science along the way this might be a better fit for you.
Not your typical travel writing. If you want a general cycling adventure book you might pass. If you want a look into a bit of history and science along the way this might be a better fit for you.
adventurous
informative
inspiring
sad
This is one of those travelogues that was definitely more pleasant to read about than it would've been to do. Despite the fact that the author both amazing and someone I would have nothing in common with, I devoured the first half of the book - definitely when she was in school. The travelogue was super interesting, and as someone who studied abroad several times, I could definitely relate to her being just over being there. (And I wasn't camping or biking!) I did learn a few things - I had no idea Georgia used a different alphabet than Cyrillic or Latin. And of course the changes in Tibet were kind of heartbreaking.
I was impressed with the moxie she had in getting this funded. And good for her, but I just cannot relate to wanting to do anything like it.
I was impressed with the moxie she had in getting this funded. And good for her, but I just cannot relate to wanting to do anything like it.
adventurous
challenging
informative
reflective
sad
medium-paced
I listened to the audiobook and as others have noted, the narrator is terrible with her 'breathy' reading. However, I enjoyed the content enough to persevere. The author's travels and reflections were fascinating. While she could have settled into a comfortable, financially stable life after university she chose to get out of her comfort zone to explore the world. While it isn't something we could all afford to do I find her taking on the hardships of cycling through the "lands of lost borders" commendable.
Lands of Lost Borders details a trip by where Kate and her friend Mel retrace The Silk Road (a trade route connecting Eastern and Western countries) to the Himalayan Highlands on bicycle. Kate starts her story focused on various programs in college, hoping to someday travel to Mars. After connecting with childhood friend, Mel, they both set off on a bicycle expedition along the Silk Road to the Himalayan Mountains.
It's a fascinating book to read, one which I think is written like a good travel book should be written. There's plenty of stories about interacting with people from various countries, and the grit required to get through portions of their journey. There are amusing stories throughout. But interspersed are a number of philosophical musings about being an explorer, connecting with people, and political observations about the regions traveled through, which surprisingly produced some interesting thoughts about forgiveness.
This is the kind of travel where you end up at your destination grimy, with holes in all your clothing, and your bicycles falling apart. There are no luxury hotels or experiences in posh restaurants drinking wine. This book is the type of book that makes me question things in my own life and everything else in the universe.
It's a fascinating book to read, one which I think is written like a good travel book should be written. There's plenty of stories about interacting with people from various countries, and the grit required to get through portions of their journey. There are amusing stories throughout. But interspersed are a number of philosophical musings about being an explorer, connecting with people, and political observations about the regions traveled through, which surprisingly produced some interesting thoughts about forgiveness.
This is the kind of travel where you end up at your destination grimy, with holes in all your clothing, and your bicycles falling apart. There are no luxury hotels or experiences in posh restaurants drinking wine. This book is the type of book that makes me question things in my own life and everything else in the universe.
Kate Harris grew up dreaming about being an explorer like Marco Polo, but realized she'd been born too late to explore any land that hadn't previously been explored. Plan B was to become an astronaut, until she worked her way to MIT and realized that space exploration is mostly theoretical and always hermetically sealed. Back to Plan A, she decided to bike the Silk Road with a childhood friend, to see parts of the world seldom seen by foreigners, to cross through constantly shifting borders.
"Nationality is babyishness for the most part," said Ralph Waldo Emerson, and for the most part I agreed. The more I learned about the South Caucasus, with its closed borders and warring enclaves, the more the place seemed like a playground game of capture-the-flag turned vicious, all in the dubious name of nationalism. And yet political frontiers, while sometimes solid as brick, are finally only as strong as shared belief--the flag-waving faith that the name "Turkey," say, or "Armenia," represents some kind of genuine, immaculate sovereignty, etched out and inviolable. But when Polo traveled through the South Caucasus in the thirteenth century, he visited Silk Road territories long since vanished or metamorphosed, such as Lesser and Greater Hermenia, Turcomania, Georgiana, and Zorzania. "Names are only the guests of reality," the Chinese sage Hsu Yu noted in 2300 BCE, suggesting that borders are little more than collective myths--fictions that a certain number of people, for a certain period of time, believe are fact.
After a brief taste of Ms. Harris's first time sneaking into Tibet (I know! She's insane! And she did it more than once!), she drags through her childhood and academic years, before finally returning to the trip that is the main focus of the book. Overall, the narrative is pretty slow, sprinkled with too many asides about semi-related topics like the Wright brothers. Even though the book isn't terribly long, I feel like some serious editing would make for a more interesting read. My favorite parts of the book, like most travel books, are the interactions with locals, the cultural miscommunications.
After a perfunctory glance at our passports, the Georgian border guards hiked along with us, happy for company on their long patrol.
Back at park headquarters, we spent the evening attempting to interview another Giorgi, this one the head of administration at Lagodekhi Protected Areas. The dark-eyed, bearded man was a younger, swarthier version of our stalwart guide, but unlike Ranger Giorgi, who didn't know any English, this Giorgi spoke "a leetle," which proved less communicative than none at all.
"So what kinds of endangered animals live in the Lagodekhi reserve?" Mel asked.
"No, no, no," said Giorgi dismissively. "There are no dangerous animals here."
"Sorry, I think we've confused you," I tried. "By 'endangered animals,' we mean species at risk."
"No, no, you are not at risk, I am saying!" said Giorgi, indignant. "Ladies, there is no dangers in Lagodekhi!"
And on it went, for about an hour. At which point we gave up, thanked him, and walked away more bewildered than ever. I consoled myself with the fact that the Peace Corps volunteer we'd spoken to the day before had still seemed pretty lost despite living in Lagodekhi for nearly two years. "So what do people do here for a living?" I'd asked. "I'm not...sure," he'd confessed with a helpless, homesick look.
Worth a peruse: The blog that Ms. Harris and her friend, Melissa, kept is Cycling Silk.
Read for book group, March 2019.
"Nationality is babyishness for the most part," said Ralph Waldo Emerson, and for the most part I agreed. The more I learned about the South Caucasus, with its closed borders and warring enclaves, the more the place seemed like a playground game of capture-the-flag turned vicious, all in the dubious name of nationalism. And yet political frontiers, while sometimes solid as brick, are finally only as strong as shared belief--the flag-waving faith that the name "Turkey," say, or "Armenia," represents some kind of genuine, immaculate sovereignty, etched out and inviolable. But when Polo traveled through the South Caucasus in the thirteenth century, he visited Silk Road territories long since vanished or metamorphosed, such as Lesser and Greater Hermenia, Turcomania, Georgiana, and Zorzania. "Names are only the guests of reality," the Chinese sage Hsu Yu noted in 2300 BCE, suggesting that borders are little more than collective myths--fictions that a certain number of people, for a certain period of time, believe are fact.
After a brief taste of Ms. Harris's first time sneaking into Tibet (I know! She's insane! And she did it more than once!), she drags through her childhood and academic years, before finally returning to the trip that is the main focus of the book. Overall, the narrative is pretty slow, sprinkled with too many asides about semi-related topics like the Wright brothers. Even though the book isn't terribly long, I feel like some serious editing would make for a more interesting read. My favorite parts of the book, like most travel books, are the interactions with locals, the cultural miscommunications.
After a perfunctory glance at our passports, the Georgian border guards hiked along with us, happy for company on their long patrol.
Back at park headquarters, we spent the evening attempting to interview another Giorgi, this one the head of administration at Lagodekhi Protected Areas. The dark-eyed, bearded man was a younger, swarthier version of our stalwart guide, but unlike Ranger Giorgi, who didn't know any English, this Giorgi spoke "a leetle," which proved less communicative than none at all.
"So what kinds of endangered animals live in the Lagodekhi reserve?" Mel asked.
"No, no, no," said Giorgi dismissively. "There are no dangerous animals here."
"Sorry, I think we've confused you," I tried. "By 'endangered animals,' we mean species at risk."
"No, no, you are not at risk, I am saying!" said Giorgi, indignant. "Ladies, there is no dangers in Lagodekhi!"
And on it went, for about an hour. At which point we gave up, thanked him, and walked away more bewildered than ever. I consoled myself with the fact that the Peace Corps volunteer we'd spoken to the day before had still seemed pretty lost despite living in Lagodekhi for nearly two years. "So what do people do here for a living?" I'd asked. "I'm not...sure," he'd confessed with a helpless, homesick look.
Worth a peruse: The blog that Ms. Harris and her friend, Melissa, kept is Cycling Silk.
Read for book group, March 2019.
I wasn't sure whether to give this 2 or 3 stars. (Whether it was okay or I liked it.) I think 2.5 stars. First, Kate Harris is an amazing bicyclist. What an endeavor to bike the Silk Road. Same for her friend Mel. Both are amazing woman for biking that distance! I thought Kate Harris was a good writer in that she provided great description of her journey and the physical aspects of the trip and what they saw. However, she really didn't have too much in the book about all of the people they met. No true descriptions of the people who provided them shelter, food, company. We get very little about the friends who join them on portions of their trip. We receive lots of historical facts that are interesting, as well as facts about historical figures who were also adventurers, which again is interesting, but I wanted to hear about the people they met in more detail. Also, I thought that some of the description she provided about the cities that they were in truly showed how privileged and first world she was. Describing things as dirty, polluted, on the verge of falling apart, etc. felt like she was focusing on the negative. I also didn't like the fact that she didn't follow the rules/guidelines/laws/regulations of each of the countries. It reminds me of when tourists visit my homelands and don't get the required permits, and break the laws and create issues for everyone, when they should have just followed the darn laws in the first place. I really admire her and her friend for the physical strength that it took to bike the Silk Road, for their perseverance, and the amazing adventure that they did together. But I wanted more from a travel book, a focus on the humans that they were meeting and a focus on more positive about each of the countries, whether there is smog/pollution or not, there is beauty in cultures and the people.