A Conversation with Duncan J.D. Smith, Urban Explorer and Writer
Recently I came across an interview with Duncan J.D. Smith about his travels, and I was inspired to reach out to offer a hearty “Kudos” and to talk with him about his life and work.
Born in Sheffield, Duncan has spent a half-century exploring urban places all over Europe, the Middle East, and Africa. He has translated his informed and erudite observations about the places and people he has known into books on cities such as Hamburg, Sheffield, and Munich, along with writing other pieces on the bunkers of Berlin and the spice farms of Zanzibar.
Most recently, Duncan finished a new book about Cologne, and he divides his time between England and Central Europe. I sent him a few questions via email, and here are his responses. Thanks to Duncan for his time, and it’s always nice to talk with a kindred spirit.
What is your travel philosophy?
It was the late Bruce Chatwin who wrote that “Man’s real home is not a house, but the Road, and life itself is a journey to be walked on foot”, and I really couldn’t put it better than that. It may sound hackneyed but getting to a destination really is just as important as the destination itself, so I think it’s worth going slowly.
As a self-styled ‘Urban Explorer’ I make it my business to tell the story of a place by reference to its hidden and unsung corners, travelling off the beaten track in an attempt to reveal a different version of oft-told histories. I publish the results of these urban odysseys in my “Only in…” series of guidebooks, in which I encourage readers to avoid the tour bus and strike out on their own. Opening doors, wandering back streets, entering courtyards, exploring the suburbs, and talking to the locals. In this world of declining general knowledge and media dumbing down, I believe it’s something of a duty for travellers abroad to create opportunities for their own enlightenment and self-education.
Having said that I’m also a great believer in exploring the unknown that exists immediately beyond our own doorsteps. It seems a modern conundrum that many people know more about their favourite Greek island than the city in which they may have lived for many years. Such people would do well to recall the words of the French writer and aviator Antoine de Saint-Exupéry: “Space is not the measure of distance. A garden wall at home may enclose more secrets than the Great Wall of China”. Those secrets are just waiting to be discovered!
As the world becomes a smaller place through distance-spanning technologies, what do we lose as travelers? Is there anything we might be gaining as a result?
Answered in reverse order, one of the more novel ‘gains’ has been the possibility for virtual travel, using the likes of Google Earth. Being able to take a bird’s eye view of a far-flung location at the click of a computer mouse is not only a fascinating activity but also an environmentally sensible one, too, since an estimated 5% of global carbon emissions are currently attributed to tourism.
As for real travel, modern technology means that those fortunate enough to be able to indulge in it can now visit destinations that until recently were considered too difficult to reach. Politics often plays a part in this, as is the case in Ethiopia for example, where a stable regime and an improving infrastructure now enables the adventurous traveller to experience one of Africa’s most fascinating countries.
The ‘losses’ are perhaps more immediately tangible. Inevitably something of the physical challenge has gone out of travelling, and with it the all-important sense of distance from one’s comfort zone, which has traditionally served to expose travellers to life-changing experiences. After all, travelling should not be about leaving one’s mark on a place but rather being ready to let the place leave its mark on you.
Do you have any tried and true techniques for getting the most out of travel to a new place (i.e. taking the longest bus ride possible within the city, etc.)?
I always buy a map before travelling anywhere, and I study it closely to get an idea of the lie of the land. Street names and churches, cemeteries and quarries, parks and industrial areas. All of it is there for a reason, and each element is part of a historical puzzle that can be exciting to piece together. The prodigous but now forgotten British traveller Rosita Forbes once said that a map “represents the other side of the horizon where everything is possible”. More’s the pity that we see so many tourists staring at street maps without a clue as to where they are – or even which way is north! And I don’t believe the answer is to use GPS coordinates, especially in a city. Why not carry a compass, or even navigate by the sun, and make urban exploration a real adventure? And don’t ignore the suburbs either. As European cities become ever more generic, it’s away from the city centre that the native spirit of a place is most likely to be encountered. It’s here that knowing “hello”, “please” and “thank you” in the local language will really come in useful, and enrich one’s travel experience immeasurably.
On the other side of things, what’s the worst or least effective way to approach travel in a new place or city?
As a traveller who extolls the virtues of walking, for me the least effective way of exploring a new place would be to only use public transport (especially underground railways) because the potential for unexpected discoveries and chance meetings would be sacrificed in the name of speed. That’s not to say that some long urban journeys aren’t better covered by vehicle, however, indeed there are some I’d definitely recommend. Tram 22 in Prague, for instance, is extremely useful in that it covers the entire width of the city, taking in the city’s largest square, the River Vltava, a pair of monasteries, and the site of the Battle of White Mountain. And even underground railways can have their charms, as anyone will know who has visited Moscow. But generally speaking, a city is best explored on foot.
Could you say a bit about your three favorite travel narratives?
1) A Time of Gifts by Patrick Leigh Fermor
This is Patrick Leigh Fermor’s personal account of the Holland-Hungary leg of his epic walk across Old Europe in 1933-34, and it’s descriptive travel writing at its very best. Each chapter is a heady mix of geography, history, culture and literature, with a healthy measure of myth and legend. That Leigh Fermor wears his erudition so lightly explains why the book has stood the test of time. Particularly vivid are the incisive pen portraits of the many different characters he encountered along the way.
2) The White Nile by Alan Moorehead
Not a walking narrative per se but this page-turning story of the Nile, from the Mountains of the Moon to the Mediterranean, certainly makes the reader want to follow in the footsteps of the likes of Richard Burton and John Hanning Speke, Samuel and Florence Baker, and Stanley and Livingstone, as they search for the source of Africa’s greatest river. Most importantly the author examines the results of their discoveries, namely the European scramble for Africa, the ramifications of which are still being felt today.
3) Scott’s Last Expedition by Robert Falcon Scott
The Irish Times called this “the mother of all books about walking”, and they were absolutely right. Despite knowing the tragic outcome of this most British of polar adventures, Scott’s diaries remain grimly compulsive on each re-reading. The bravery of man and beast pitted against insuperable odds shines through in this lyrical paean to bold ambition, dogged determination and ultimately wearied resignation, as the Antarctic winter puts a final halt to their 1,766-mile round trip, just eleven miles short of the next food depot.
If you could wander around any city from any historical era, which one would it be and why?
Damascus in Biblical times. I made a tour of Syria recently and walked the length of the main east-west street that bisects the Old City. Known as Straight Street (for obvious reasons) from the Latin Via Recta, it is the only street given by name in the Bible, when Ananias is instructed by God to “Arise, and go into the street which is called Straight” (it is there that he cures Saul of his blindness after which he is reborn as Paul the Apostle). This was the main thoroughfare of Damascus during Greek and Roman times, and would originally have been lined with imposing colonnades supporting a canvas awning. Only battered column bases remain today so it would be quite something to see it in all its glory.
Do you have a favorite urban walk or two you could tell readers about?
Vienna, Austria is a city I know well having written a guidebook about it. One of my favourite city walks takes in a handful of hidden corners, and yet covers hardly more than five hundred metres. It begins on a side street called Mölker Bastei (Melk Bastion) on the edge of the city centre. A steep flight of steps leads up the outside of one of the very few remaining fragments of the Renaissance city walls (hence the name bastion), erected in the sixteenth century in the wake of the First Turkish Siege. At the top are a row of eighteenth century houses, including the apartment where Beethoven lived when he wrote his only opera Fidelio. A little further along is a house where Schubert reputedly wooed three sisters simultaneously, and the spot where an assassination attempt was made on the life of the penultimate Habsburg Emperor, Franz Joseph I. And in the doorway of a neighbouring Baroque house the actor Orson Welles made his first appearance as Harry Lime in the film classic The Third Man.
A much longer but no less interesting walk is to follow the line of the old Roman walls of Cologne, Germany, where another of my guidebooks is set. This extraordinary journey begins amidst the foundations of the city’s cathedral, where a chunk of the north wall is incorporated into the so-called Treasury. The wall reappears in a nearby underground car park, and then again intermittently in various parks and pavements farther westwards. Pieces of the west wall can be found jutting into a hairdressing salon and a particularly impressive stretch forms a garden wall with a difference for a block of modern apartments. To the south and east the wall becomes more elusive, although it is still recalled in street names and the occasional ridge and ditch still present in the modern topography of the city.
For further information about Duncan and his “Only in…” guides please visit www.duncanjdsmith.com
