"Excuse me lonely planet? Where am I?"

Moscow’s metros are just as magnificent as they are confusing. Photo: Leah Plotz

When travelling, I like to wing it. This rarely gets me into much trouble, but it always adds an element of surprise. However, for an upcoming trip to Moscow, I knew I needed to be at least slightly prepared. I invested in Lonely Planet’s guide to Moscow because that’s the brand that ‘everyone’ buys, so it must be good. It was big and detailed and came with a phonetically-spelled map. Brilliant, I thought, I can correctly pronounce where I need to go. I read and re-read all of the warnings, suggestions, and reviews. They told me to dress very well and suggested that women never take taxis alone. Check and noted! 

I was feeling optimistic until I landed and got on the underground train. According to my hostel and my handy Lonely Planet map, I was to find the green line to that one station, and get off at the third stop and take the gray exit. I paid my three rubles, passed through the gates, and unknowingly began a crash course in Rapid Cyrillic Learning.

The Map

Wait a second! The station names were not matching the ones on my map. The station’s signs were only in Cyrillic. The map was only written in English and phonetically. I panicked. In my sudden frenzy I got off at the next stop. I studied the maps at the station. I studied my map. I memorized the colours and the stop names, eventually getting back on and getting off at the correct stop. Whew! No thanks to Lonely Planet! OK, now to use the other side of this map to find my hostel…

I didn’t understand how this could happen. It was not written in Cyrillic on the other side, either. Its cartoon layout didn’t cover all the reasonably-sized streets I was actually walking on. How could maps be unreadable these days? I regretted not having a smartphone. I struggled to find the mental strength to keep searching.

It was Day One, Hour Two. I can’t believe I ever agreed to visiting Moscow.

Sweat poured down my back. It was 34C, and I was in agony. I had been awake since 4am, and for what? I sat and waited, for Jesus or Queen Elizabeth or Tony Abbott even. Anyone could have been my saviour at that point.

If the person who had written the Lonely Planet guidebook had come along, I would have kicked them in the shin.

…And then begged them to take me to my hostel.

I eventually stood back up. Feeling defeated, I dragged myself to the nearest side street, hoping the narrow laneway would give some relief from the heat. I wanted to call a hotline and ask “Excuse me, Lonely Planet? Where am I?” I was ready to cry, when I saw it: my hostel. Not glaring with its presence, just a humble HI sign, dusty and worn. I opened the door and couldn’t believe my luck.

I threw my bag on the bed and the Lonely Planet “map” went in the bin. Picking a new map up at the hostel’s reception, I was delighted to see that it was written in Cyrillic andphonetically. Even though the map was a miss, the book still deserved a second chance. I said a little prayer, to Jesus, to Liz, to Tony, and was on my way to explore the city.

The Guidebook

I survived the metro system unscathed but felt famished. The friend I was visiting commented on my day’s adventure: “Ah yeah,” she said casually, “Moscow’s notorious for being one of the least tourist-friendly cities in the world.” I was, suffice to say, not surprised. Clutching onto her arm, I let her lead the way as we went to the Red Square. On the way there, I opened up my guidebook for some background on its history. So when I caught my first glimpse of the Kremlin and of St. Basil’s Cathedral, I was in total awe. Maybe the guidebook wasn’t all that bad…

It was Day One, Hour Eight. It was all so incredibly stunning.

The world’s most-sold guidebook brand had taken me off guard. It felt like the option for more leg room on a plane: it seemed like a good idea, it would be nice to have, but it doesn’treally improve the experience for the average traveller.

I opened it a couple of more times during my stay, whenever I was bored or doubtful that I had seen everything worth seeing. When the guide proved worth the investment, it really paid off big time. One example came at the end of a very long day. Starving and grumpy, we picked a restaurant that was an easy metro stop away, and it was quite simply the best meal of the entire trip.

Sunset on Day One: Hour ten. Photo: Leah Plotz

The Verdict

Overall, Lonely Planet’s guidebook didn’t provide anything that Google or any other quick search on the internet doesn’t. I used it maybe four times, so in actuality I paid $6 for each time I needed to reference something. The next edition is due out in 2015, and I would hope that they will take into consideration my suggestion. 

After arriving back home, I looked into buying a smartphone for my next trip. And it seems as if that’s exactly the direction that travel is going.

Comments

[Ryan Hellyer]

I used to live down the road from a bus stop in Dunedin, New Zealand. Every day or so, I'd see a person sitting dejectedly at the bus stop along with their backpack. They were waiting for a bus to go to their accommodation. They were following a bus timetable provided by the Lonely Planet guide. Unfortunately for them, the bus time table in the guide was grossly incorrect and even if the bus did arrive (it never did) then it would have been facing the wrong direction to get them to their destination anyway. Multiple times, I ended up driving them the 40 min journey down the peninsula to reach their destination, because I could tell they couldn't afford the taxi to get there and there would be no more buses even if I did take them to the correct bus stop.

Lesson to be learned from this ... don't trust important bits of information in a document which can't be edited after it's created. I'm sure the Lonely Planet editors were aware of the problem, but since it's a printed book, they had no ability to edit it.

Personally, I stick with Wiki travel usually. They always seem to have up to date and useful information on wherever I'm heading.