A wonderful list from the opinionated (but cool) travel writer Dervla Murphy. Click here to read it in full.

The individual traveller’s “age of adventure” has long since been ended by “S&T” (science and technology: an abbreviation that dates me). Now our planet’s few remaining undeveloped expanses are accessible only to well-funded expeditions protected by mobile phones and helicopters – enterprises unattractive to the temperamental descendants of Mungo Park, Mary Kingsley et al. Happily, it’s still possible for such individuals to embark on solo journeys through little-known regions where they can imagine how real explorers used to feel.

Reviewers tend to describe my most exhilarating journeys as “adventures”, though to me they are a form of escapism – a concept unfairly tainted with negative connotations. If journeys are designed as alternatives to one’s everyday routine, why shouldn’t they be escapist? Why not move in time as well as space, and live for a few weeks or months at the slow pace enjoyed by our ancestors? In recent decades everything has become quicker and easier: transport, communications, heating, cooking, cleaning, dressing, shopping, entertaining. “S&T” have reduced physical effort to the minimum – but are we genetically equipped to cope with our effortless new world? The stats show increasing numbers of us developing ulcers, having nervous breakdowns, eating too much or too little, taking to drink and/or drugs, retreating from our own reality in plastic surgery clinics. It’s surely time to promote the therapeutic value of slow travel.

There is, of course, a certain irony here: technology has rendered the traditional simple journey somewhat artificial. Previously, those who roamed far and wide had to be isolated for long periods; now isolation is a deliberately chosen luxury. Had I died of a burst appendix in the Hindu Kush or the Simiens or the Andes, it would have been my own fault (no two-way radio) rather than a sad misfortune. Therefore, in one sense, escapist travelling has become a game – but only in one sense. The actual journey is for real: whatever happens, you can’t chicken out. You’re alone where you’ve chosen to be, and must take the consequences. (I prefer to forget that nowadays one is never quite alone. With all those satellites, the solitary traveller may be observed picking her nose in the middle of the Great Karoo.)

To facilitate escapism, I offer the following tips …

1. Choose your country, use guidebooks to identify the areas most frequented by foreigners – and then go in the opposite direction.
2. Mug up on history.
3. Travel alone, or with just one prepubescent child.
4. Don’t overplan.
5. Be self-propelling: walk or cycle.
6. If assisted by a pack animal, take detailed local advice about the terrain ahead.
7. Cyberspace intercourse vitiates genuine escapism.
8. Don’t be inhibited by the language barrier.
9. Be cautious – cautious as distinct from timid.
10. Invest in the best-available maps.