Writing Your Way to Travel Adventure

by John Nihmey

The desire to get away from it all and at the same time pursue a passion for writing need not be diverse pursuits. They weren't for me, though not by design.

It had always seemed to me that a prerequisite for becoming a travel journalist would be a penchant for travel and a journalistic inclination. Yet in 1977 when I became the author of Canada's most widely syndicated travel feature, I had yet to read one travel article, watch any travel television shows, or even visit a travel agency. Writing a few newspaper reviews of local concert events hardly qualified me to report on the world of travel and the merits of remote and exotic places.

When I graduated from university in 1976, my desire to get a nine-to-five job was less than enthusiastic. During my four years at Carleton University in Ottawa, I had already taken a full year off before embarking on my honors year and, contrary to the warnings I received about getting bored, I enjoyed the break immensely. I travelled to Southern California, set myself up in an apartment in Marina Del Rey, and proceeded to explore this melting pot of tastes and lifestyles.

During my time there I visited the famous Beverly Hills Hotel where movie stars, film moguls, royalty, and others we call "the rich and famous" had played, dined, slept, and called home for more than 50 years. I was thrilled to have stayed there (though it cost more than I could legitimately afford) and was impressed by everything from the private cabanas around the pool to the star-studded Polo Lounge to the rent-per-day bungalows where the likes of Marilyn Monroe and Yves Montand had legendary affairs. The experience stayed with me and that's why in the summer of 1977, when I was struggling with career options, I decided to write a feature article about my journey through this oasis of wealth and glamour that was so far removed from my own world. If for no other reason, the unpublished story would serve to describe what I experienced to my friends and family.

I presented the story to the local newspaper, the Ottawa Citizen, pitching it as the first feature in a series called, "John Nihmey's Hotels of the World." The idea was that every month I would feature one of the world's great hotels, each time presenting my experience through the eyes of a naïve, 25-year-old with a modest income discovering what the world of privilege and excess was all about. What I didn't tell the newspaper editor was that, with the exception of Southern California, I hadn't been anywhere or stayed in a hotel that even remotely compared to the Beverly Hills Hotel.

The Ottawa Citizen bought my feature and so did a dozen other newspapers across the country. But with a total income of $600 dollars per month, I was hardly able to fund the lifestyle I had talked myself into. Upon calling the public relations department of one of the major airlines for a discount ticket, I unwittingly resolved my dilemma.

I learned that most governments have tourism departments that are mandated to promote their country both internally and externally. One means of interesting people to visit a country is through the media, in particular, the travel media. So, when I pursued a reduced fare ticket to Paris from Air France in order to write a feature about the famous Hotel Ritz, I discovered that I would not get a discount but instead a free ticket in first class. I also learned that I would be a guest of the French government tourist office, stay at the hotel at no cost, and be escorted around town by a guide. "What a deal," I thought as I embarked on a three-year journey that covered almost 50 countries and five continents.

Thinking of making travel writing a career?

Don't let the "freebie" aspect of travel writing affect your point of view. Just because you are not paying for the trip, and the sponsoring country is hoping for good press doesn't mean that a positive review is required. An invitation to someone's house for dinner requires you to at least eat the meal, but not to like it, let alone tell others how good it was. Your integrity with editors and readers is on the line.
Write about your own experience, not that of anyone else. The readers of Hotels of the World were interested in Joe Public's take on the lifestyle of the rich and famous. My goal was not to inform or excite the people who could afford to stay in these hotels, but rather those who could not.
Get to know others in the travel-writing business, not just in the tourism and public relations community. Several organizations exist that specialize in this area, most notably the Society of American Travel Writers. They expose you to what is happening in your trade, and can inform you about various upcoming press trips.
Find your own niche. The world of travel offers many angles from which to approach it. The most popular travel features have a focus.
If you plan to syndicate your column or feature, remember that syndicates generally take 50 percent of the money, and weekly or monthly features are usually lumped into a group of daily columns being sold. Therefore, your weekly or monthly travel feature may be sold by a syndicate for very little, in order to help clinch the deal.

For my initial assignments, I tried to play the part of someone in the great hotels circuit, but I soon discovered that I couldn't act like anyone but myself. Acting blasé over being met in Hong Kong by a Rolls Royce from the Mandarin Hotel was beyond my stage ability. Nor could I fein indifference when Count Johannes Walderdorf, owner of the 800-year-old Goldener Hirsch in Salzburg, met me for dinner wearing a skirt. I could hardly pretend that my 4,000-square-foot, three-bedroom, three-terrace suite at the Hotel Negresco in Nice wasn't to my liking. And when I knew nothing about the wines listed on the menu, it was easier to ask for a Coke.

I chose to take this perspective in many of my articles. Indeed, these ones became my most successful, reaching a greater readership than I could have ever imagined. But I was too busy alternating between my travels and writing articles that I had little time to figure out why anyone was interested in what I had to say. In retrospect, I realize that my instincts, borne out of a simple, middle-class background, was what my readers enjoyed because they could relate to my world view.

On one occasion, I was invited to an extravagant floor show in Monte Carlo. Our group was given a front-row table laden with champagne and petits fours. Unfortunately, we had other plans that evening and could only stay for a few minutes. So I conspicuously sipped at the champagne and, so as not to appear ungrateful, shoved the petits fours in my pocket for later. My mother would not have approved of the waste.

Another time, I was visiting Bangkok, Thailand, to write about the famous Oriental Hotel, whose original complex, now named the Author's Wing, once hosted writers like Joseph Conrad and Rudyard Kipling. One evening, to my dismay, I made plans to accompany my assigned valet on a poor man's tour of Bangkok by night, having forgotten that the hotel was hosting a black-tie event with the King and Queen of Thailand as the guests of honour. It was a who's who event, with paparazzi held at bay by a full police force; Eartha Kitt, who had opened the hotel's new showroom a couple of decades before, was on hand to entertain.

I could not reach the valet to explain my blunder as the staff in such hotels are prohibited from being there when they are not working, and I did not have his telephone number. I solved the situation (and eased my conscience) by attending both events. I met the King and Queen, shook hands with a few dozen people, nibbled on a few crackers and caviar, then raced up to my room to slip on jeans and a T-shirt. A few minutes later I was out the door to meet with my valet and tour Bangkok on a local bus. An hour later, I hopped into a taxi, raced back to my hotel, changed back into my suit, and started making the rounds at the party. As I approached each person who might have commented on my absence, I asked "where have you been?"

In time, I realized that my interest in the world of deluxe travel was waning. A trip to Tahiti proved to be the turning point. Once there, I learned that no visit to French Polynesia was complete without a tour of the Gaugin museum. But on the day the visit was scheduled, I lay asleep in the back of the limousine, tired from a late night in the bar of the Bali Hai hotel, while the other writers on the trip made the tour. I didn't mind (I needed the sleep) and neither did my guide. In the end, my readers weren't disappointed either for there are many sources of information on Gaugin, and they really didn't expect it of me anyway.

Despite enjoying my many experiences on the world stage, I decided to call it quits just over three years after I had published my first installment of "Hotels of the World." I had become tired of the constant travel and had changed from a novice traveller who was awestruck by every experience to one who could no longer distinguish between photos of the Caribbean and photos of the Middle East. The popularity of the feature demanded more stories about more great hotels; I didn't feel that I could muster the wonderment I had once felt when I walked through the grand salons of hotels like the Mamounia Palace in Marrakesh, the Connaught in London, and the Grand in Rome. When I decided to quit, I had every major newspaper in Canada as a subscriber, a television travel segment on Canada AM, several U.S. newspapers and magazines commissioning stories, and a variety of anthologies and "best of" books seeking my wisdom on the greatest of the great hotels. But it was time to give it up.

Looking back on those years, it occurred to me that I had never thought of myself as a travel writer, nor the work as a career, even after meeting dozens of other travel writers, some of them career travel journalists for decades. Perhaps it was because, while it lasted, it was an adventure that didn't seem like work. Today, 20 years later with a career firmly established, I realize what a wonderful opportunity it was for someone bent on adventure, content with a modest income, and free to pick up and go anywhere, anytime. After all, how many people with a three-figure salary could manage to see the world in first-class style before they had even worked a full-time job?

John Nihmey is president of a leading Canadian communications firm. In addition to Hotels of the World, he has written two books: Time of Their Lives — The Dionne Tragedy and Fireworks and Folly — How We Killed Minnie Sutherland.

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