Among his followers, Rick Steves is more than a guru of international travel. He has attained the stature of political analyst, epicurean philosopher and sage. Those who have attended his lectures know his gusto, humor and sagacity are as core to the travel writer as his passport, train ticket and backpack.
Those characteristics were already bubbling in 1978, when Steves – then only 23 years old and fresh out of university – and travel companion Gene Openshaw commenced an epic six-country journey across a wide swath of Asia, starting in Turkey and ending in Nepal with stops in Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan and India in between, including a backtrack to India from Nepal. It was a 3,500-mile, two-month-long trek along what was called the Hippie Trail, a route that was once as popular among young travelers as visits to Europe are today.
During the trip, Steves wrote a 60,000-word journal that he recently released in book form with only minimal edits as On the Hippie Trail from Istanbul to Kathmandu. Now readers can join him in the bazaars and temples and on the elephant and rickshaw rides of Asia.
As Steves begins his trip, he already possesses the high of a long-time traveler who is seeking greater adventure, enlightenment and knowledge.
In Nepal, he attains a Zen-like nirvana amid the lush mountains, valleys and rivers. (Sadly, Steves and Openshaw endured constant clouds, preventing them from enjoying majestic views of the Himalayan mountains.) And he makes a revelation about marijuana that his long-time readers will find startling.
“Before I always shunned pot as a token of my self-discipline,” he says. “Now I smoke it as a token of self-control and to widen my view of the world.” It will be a revelation to his readers as Steves has long advocated for the legalization of weed.
“I could never conceive of philosophers doubting reality or pondering another reality,” he says. “Now I can see that much more exists than meets the eye (or the straight brain).”
The beauty and religious awe of Buddhist and Hindu mystics in Nepal also awaken his wonder. The exotic overload generates his lust for new experiences.
Steves sees the Kumari Devi, the “living virgin goddess” at the Royal Palace in Kathmandu, whom with characteristic humor he describes as “a young girl without zits and blemishes.” The divinity locks eyes with pilgrim from Seattle before she vanishes.
Later the same day, Steves spots King Birendra, who drives into Kathmandu, but this encounter is different from the one with the virgin goddess. The monarch rushes into the city to worship at a temple and then rushes out without waving to the adoring crowds.
Despite this disappointment, Steves’s enthusiasm for Asia is infectious. Earlier in the trip, after he had crossed the Khyber Pass in Pakistan, Steves is overwhelmed with delight: “Words cannot explain my joy as I stepped across that happy tree-lined border.”
Steves is always moving. He paddles a canoe and rents bicycles in Nepal, goes to markets in India, visits a university in Afghanistan, hails rickshaws, wanders along side streets of big cities and ventures into small towns. He helps Afghan farmers thresh wheat and Indian women carry baskets of grass.
Steves’s well-known heartiness is in full swing. He is frequently up before the dawn so that he has enough time to cram as many sites as possible. In Varanasi, India, he is up at 4:30 a.m. to tour the Ganges River, a pilgrimage site for the Hindu faithful. He gets on a boat, tours a market, visits several temples and witnesses cremations. The same day, he visits Sarnath, where Buddha gave his first sermon, to see a stupa (monument). He walks through a museum. Back in Varanasi, he visits a fort. And that night he has dinner with an Australian tourist studying Indian music.
The next morning, Steves is up at 4:30 a.m. again to take another boat ride on the Ganges, prowl the back streets and go to a bazaar.
The book also proves that Steves, the most avid of travelers, is as down to Earth as anyone. He resents Indian hotel staff “hopelessly and universally afflicted with dollar signs in their eyes”. In Srinagar, India, where Steves stays on a houseboat, he feels the effects of his ethnocentrism. His servants initially treat him as an honored guest, but the quality of their service evaporates as Steves prepares to depart.
“It’s funny, when you’re treated like a king you begin to expect it and when the servants let you down, it takes a little bit of adjusting,” he says.
Amazingly, Steves expresses a feeling that all veteran travelers know: He briefly wonders if he should have taken the journey at all. In Afghanistan, he looks longingly back at Europe where he could be having fun.
“It’s kind of sad, but I realized today that I tend to build a wall between me and any potential friends in this beyond-Europe part of the world,” he says. “In Europe I love to talk with people and make friends.” He wants to go back to Seattle.
These are momentary lapses as Steves goes to Asia as the journeyman traveler and emerges as the master he is today.
“Good trip – that’s all I got to say,” he says.
Sadly, the overland path in Asia came to an end not long after Steves took his trip mostly because of events the following year. The Iranian Revolution and the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan put an end to westerners traveling the route.
Always the optimist, Steves urges young and old travelers alike to find new Hippie Trails. They’re always beckoning.