Review: All Inclusive

I’m a longtime reader of the Swedish travel magazine Vagabond, where Johan Tell used to be one of the regular writers. The sort of travel writer who understands that the best stories rarely involve infinity pools, complimentary bathrobes or somebody describing a hotel as an oasis.

All Inclusive collects his shorter pieces previously published in the magazine. Small, wonderfully odd dispatches from that peculiar territory where travel stops going according to plan and starts becoming interesting. And there’s plenty of that.

Tell finds himself singing Swedish children’s songs in a bazaar in Tehran, talking on the telephone with explorer Ola Skinnarmo at the North Pole, investigating gay bars in Bangkok, and searching for Jimi Hendrix’s old house in Essaouira. In other words, exactly the sort of itinerary no competent travel agent would ever recommend, which is usually a promising sign.

These aren’t grand expeditions into the heroic unknown. They’re snapshots of the strange encounters, misunderstandings, detours and minor disasters that make travel worth enduring the airports for.

If you’ve been reading Vagabond for years, chances are you’ve encountered many of these stories before. That doesn’t really matter. Collected in one volume, they become a concentrated dose of travel absurdity without the inconvenience of actually being stranded somewhere with no functioning ATM.

Recommended for anyone who suspects that the interesting part of a journey usually begins shortly after the itinerary has gone to hell.