In October 2013, Boris Kanev and Marta Samalea embarked on an ambitious journey from Bulgaria, aiming to reach India without using air travel. Over the span of 511 days, they traversed Asia by walking and hitchhiking, ultimately entering India through Myanmar. Throughout their travels across some of the world’s most isolated regions, they relied on traditional maps, kept their families informed of their whereabouts, and maintained a travel blog. Notably, they accomplished all of this without the use of a smartphone.
We first encountered Kanev and Samalea in Bhopal earlier this year, where we engaged in discussions about their adventures. Since then, we’ve shared emails that have provided insights into their experiences and how they managed to maintain a functioning Internet connection while hitchhiking across Asia, despite lacking what many would deem an essential travel tool. While they are not opposed to technology, they chose to forgo smartphones, opting instead for a netbook, a DSLR camera, and an e-reader, along with an old Nokia phone that was often unreliable, according to Kanev’s comments to NDTV Gadgets via email.
The couple has always enjoyed the prospect of far-off travels, and shortly after we first met, they began to explore the idea of hitchhiking to India.
“Our goal was to reach the subcontinent overland, taking each step and crossing each border while capturing pictures of real places, flavors, and faces,” Samalea wrote. “An old map of Asia, coupled with invisible routes and more imagination than certainty, set the travel plan in motion.”
During their journey, Kanev and Samalea discovered several advantages to not carrying a smartphone. “One of the main benefits is that we spend more time observing the world outside rather than staring at a screen. There’s a distinct pleasure in disconnection, enjoying days in nature without interruptions from ringtones or the urge to check social media,” Kanev noted. “You truly engage with your surroundings instead of browsing out of habit, and there’s no concern about finding a plug to charge your device.”
As part of their journey, the duo maintained a blog called Roving Snails. Here, they shared travel tips, recounted interesting encounters with both people and wildlife, and even provided recipes for fellow hitchhikers. However, updating their blog and checking in with friends and family would have been simpler if they had a smartphone.
(Also see: The Digital Traveller in Zurich – Without an Internet Connection)
Navigating Without Google Maps
Samalea expressed that navigating offline posed a challenge she found enjoyable. “Being without immediate access to information leads to more questions. We observe our surroundings, jot down thoughts, and engage in a sort of treasure hunt for answers,” she stated.
So how did they find their way in the absence of Google Maps? The couple often relied on traditional paper maps for navigation, and when those weren’t available, they created their own. “We crafted maps based on unclear signs, foreign words, and often contradictory directions from locals,” she explained. “While accurate coordinates could lead you to the same places, we find a certain magic in the uncertainty of what lies around each corner.”
Their old Nokia phone was useful during longer stays in locations like Georgia, Iran, and Thailand. However, while on the road, even this device offered little assistance. Kanev remarked, “In general, we believe smartphones are more of a comfort than a necessity. They can be helpful for maps and in managing logistics in a foreign city. Some of our friends use them to book hostels, but since we mostly camp, that hasn’t been an option for us.”
Finding ways to connect to the Internet posed real challenges throughout their travels, as they encountered frustrations with Internet cafes. “Internet cafes are often chaotic, with malfunctioning keyboards, spotty connections, and overwhelming noise,” Samalea observed. One particularly frustrating episode occurred in India when they searched for an Internet cafe in Aizawl, Mizoram, trying to inform their families of their safe arrival. After a lengthy search, they found a sign indicating an Internet cafe, only to discover it had been repurposed into a beauty parlor.
“The owner explained that ‘most people have smartphones these days,'” Samalea recounted. Fortunately, the couple implemented what they term “an emergency measure which has always worked for us.” They approached a high-end hotel to request access to their Wi-Fi for ten minutes. “The staff was incredibly kind, offering us tea and biscuits as we spent the morning in their lobby,” she added.
Could you last a week without the Internet?
The couple noted that the longest stretch without Internet access lasted two weeks, a situation they faced more than once. Their longest offline periods occurred while hiking in Turkey, hitchhiking in Myanmar, and walking from Manipur to Mizoram, generally lasting a few weeks. They typically go online every one to three days to touch base with family and friends and to update their blog.
During offline periods, they would jot down questions, notes, and thoughts in their diaries for when they next had Internet access, a uniquely systematic approach to disconnecting from technology that seemed successful for them.
(Also see: Seven Must-Have Gadgets for Every Frequent Traveller)
For many, even a day without Internet might seem overwhelming, but for Kanev and Samalea, it was manageable. They faced greater challenges in grasping cultural nuances than in finding an Internet connection. A notable inconvenience emerged in Iran, where international cards are unusable, mandating the use of local currency only. Consequently, they found it necessary to carry significant amounts of cash. “Our relaxed travel might seem carefree, but it requires considerable preparation,” Kanev explained. “We research in advance whether cash is available, the best places to exchange money, how hitchhiking operates, and whether camping is permitted.”
Yet, no amount of planning could prepare them for misfortunes along the journey. In Dege, a small Tibetan town in Sichuan, they miscalculated their currency needs. Kanev recalled, “After a long and dusty trek through the Tibetan mountains, exhausted and facing a health issue for Marta due to an unfortunate dog encounter, we searched for someone to exchange our US dollars for Chinese yuan to pay for medical care and accommodation.”
“None of the ATMs worked, banks were unwilling to exchange, and the locals were indifferent to our plight,” he continued. “Despondent, Marta sat on the curb and broke into tears.” Although the language barrier complicated matters, it led to a heartwarming display of local altruism.
A woman approached Kanev, and with makeshift sign language, he communicated their problem. “In no time, she organized a street collection on our behalf; mothers, children, grandmothers, monks, shopkeepers, and restaurant waitstaff all contributed to a growing pile of money,” he recalled. “Despite the increasing cash, no one would exchange our dollars. Eventually, the police intervened, assuring us that the donations were freely given in the spirit of good deeds,” he reported. The officers advised them to return the generosity to Buddha at a nearby temple.
Learning Through Experience
A smartphone might have expedited their communication, but it also would have detracted from their immersion in the cultural experiences of the places they visited. Throughout their travels, Kanev and Samalea encountered various “cultural peculiarities.” They learned that refusing a drink in Georgia is impolite, a cup of tea in Iraqi Kurdistan is always followed by another, and in Iran, gifts are offered three times, requiring refusal twice for sincerity to be established (taarof).
Language posed a manageable challenge; while one might suggest a crash course with Duolingo or Google Translate, the couple gathered phrases and basic vocabulary upon entering a new country. “The result is often amusing and leads to misunderstandings, yet people appreciate our effort to engage with their culture,” Samalea shared. She noted that not every locale necessitated fluent local language skills, as English is widely spoken in places like India. Kanev’s proficiency in Russian facilitated navigation through Central Asia.
“Ultimately, we learned that language transcends mere words, with effective communication often requiring more than language skills. Marta also carries a sketchpad for drawing objects she doesn’t know the names for,” Kanev remarked. They noted their primary language barriers occurred in China, but here, the prevalence of smartphones enabled conversations via translation apps on others’ devices.
Throughout their travels, they found technology amusing as well. One memorable encounter occurred in India, in the Unakoti hill region of Tripura. Here, they met a sadhu who remarked that phones were unnecessary for conversing with the divine. Samalea recounted, “We visited seeking the giant Lord Shiva sculptures we had heard about and ended up forging a friendship with the sadhu.” Despite the language barrier, they found common ground during a storm.
As thunder rolled in, they began setting up camp and asked the sadhu if rain was expected. In a whimsical act, the sadhu held a horn to his ear as if it were a phone, calling out to higher powers for a weather report. “The conversation blended Bengali with military terminology, and we understood that the gods had answered. The sadhu assured us no tent was needed,” Samalea recalled. With thunder and lightning overhead, they trusted his prophetic abilities and slept under a simple mosquito net. The next morning, the sadhu delightedly presented them with a cup of chai, pleased that his intuition had kept them dry throughout the night.
Had they owned an iPhone or an app for weather forecasting, their experience may have been vastly different. Instead, they embraced their connection to nature and the spirituality of the moment.
Boris Kanev and Marta Samalea began their journey in October 2013 and have been documenting their experiences on their blog, Roving Snails.
