On regime change, leaving the crowds behind, and asking: should we travel right now?
The last 10 days or so have jangled even the steeliest of nerves and fostered many a debate but, whatever your view on regimes and so-called ‘regime change’, it is ordinary everyday people – who want the same things as you and me: stability and education for our children, who care about the same things: friends and family, who laugh about the same things – that will be most affected.
Speaking of being affected, we at Steppes Travel, thankfully, do not have clients in situ but we do have clients whose flight routes have been affected. The likes of Emirates, Etihad and Qatar take you, our clients, to destinations in Southeast Asia, the Far East and Australasia and those connecting flights are currently being cancelled en-masse.
Since the US and Israel began attacks on Iran on the 28th of February my team have worked tirelessly to provide our clients with options and alternatives. Listening to our Travel Experts speak and deal with clients – giving them reassurance and talking them through options – I am impressed, as ever, not just by their expertise and professionalism but also their empathy. They are an impressive team.
But remember, and at the risk of sounding glib, this is very much a regional conflict and the rest of the world remains open. We must not ignore it, nor retreat from it as surely the understanding and empathy our visitation brings, the greater the chance of peace. Travel must remain on the agenda.
Justin Wateridge, Managing Director
From our desks to your screen
Dispatches from the Field is our new monthly editorial letter, sharing what we’re seeing in the places we know best, with contributions from the Steppes team and our trusted partners on the ground.
It sits apart from our destination-led e-news, focusing instead on what’s changing, what matters and the details that shape how a destination feels right now. Each edition brings a handful of observations, one question we’re considering and links to read further if you wish.
Insights from the field
St Helena | Illona Cross
Whale shark encounters have become one of the most sought-after wildlife experiences on the planet. From Mexico to the Maldives and Western Australia, travellers are increasingly adding a swim with the world’s largest fish to their wildlife wish lists. Yet for me, one destination quietly stands above the rest: the remote island of St Helena in the South Atlantic.
What makes St Helena so special is how natural the encounters feel. Unlike some famous whale shark destinations, the island remains blissfully free from mass tourism. There are no crowds of boats and no feeding or intrusive practices, just a handful of swimmers sharing the ocean with these extraordinary animals. The waters around St Helena are also protected within a vast marine reserve, helping keep the marine environment remarkably pristine.
Researchers believe the island may even play a role in the whale shark breeding cycle, meaning encounters here are often with large, mature animals.
Better still, St Helena combines beautifully with South Africa, pairing whale shark snorkelling with safari, the Winelands and Cape Town.
Take this further with a conversation: Illona Cross
Mexico | John Faithfull
Despite recent grumblings and unrest in Central America, travellers’ appetite for Mexico seems undiminished. Visitor numbers continue to surge, with millions still drawn to the country’s culture, cuisine and landscapes each year.
For me, however, Mexico’s most compelling experiences lie well beyond the familiar beach resorts and well-trodden tourist trails. If you want a fresh perspective on the country – its people, scenery and culture, then the place to head is the extraordinary Copper Canyon in the north.
Board the Chepe Express and you begin one of the great rail journeys of the Americas. The train threads its way through a vast canyon system four times larger than the Grand Canyon and plunging nearly two kilometres deep into the Sierra Madre.
Travelling between the colonial town of El Fuerte and the historic city of Chihuahua, the journey reveals dramatic landscapes, remote villages and the enduring culture of the Tarahumara people – offering a depth of experience that is hard to rival anywhere else in the Americas.
Take this further with a conversation: John Faithfull
India | Charlotte Lawton
I’m delighted to see so much interest in India at the moment. Enquiries have been flooding in. But if I’m honest, there’s one conversation I seem to be having again and again. Many travellers arrive with a long list of places they feel they must squeeze into two weeks. I understand the impulse: India inspires curiosity and there’s always that sense of FOMO. But I also know how this story usually ends.
More often than not, people return home exhausted and slightly overwhelmed. India is an intense destination, full of colour, noise, traffic and energy, and rushing through it only amplifies that.
My advice is always the same: slow down. Spend four nights somewhere like Jaipur rather than racing through. Wander the bazaars, sit in a chai shop, browse galleries or try the city’s excellent restaurants. Then balance the cities with time in rural India, perhaps Shahpura Bagh or Anopura, where life moves at a gentler pace.
Almost everyone comes home saying the same thing: they wish they’d tried to see a little less.
Take this further with a conversation: Charlotte Lawton
Filed by our Specialists
South of the beaten path: Yunnan in balance | Jim Davies
China’s domestic travel boom has reshaped the energy of Yunnan. Jim Davies finds his rhythm in the contrast: lantern-lit markets and plum wine in Dali, then the stillness of Tiger Leaping Gorge, where a good local guide keeps you one step ahead of the crowds.
Read South of the beaten path: Yunnan in balance
Kok Boru: survival on the Kyrgyzstan Steppes | Jarrod Kyte
At Son Kul, Kok Boru is less a sport than a statement: horsemanship, strength and nerve played out at full tilt, then finished with a handshake. Jarrod Kyte uses the game to open a wider view of Kyrgyzstan’s landscapes and nomadic spirit.
Read Kok Boru: survival on the Kyrgyzstan Steppes
Armenia: a history of biblical scale | Justin Wateridge
With Mount Ararat on the horizon and Noah never far from local memory, Justin Wateridge traces Armenia’s layered story through monasteries, cave churches and living faith, where pagan symbols and “flourishing crosses” sit alongside a modern country still remaking itself.
Read Armenia: a history of biblical scale
A question on our minds
Should we travel at the moment?
Let’s start with the hard bit.
If the place you are travelling to is not directly affected by the current conflict, then in insurance terms your anxiety may well be treated as exactly that: anxiety. Not a valid claim. Not a covered event. The industry has a blunt phrase for it: disinclination to travel. In other words, if you decide not to go because the world feels febrile, unstable or frightening, but your destination itself is not under formal warning or directly impacted, your insurer is unlikely to pick up the bill. That is the reality.
And yes, it can feel inappropriate to talk about holidays when people elsewhere are living through horror. It can feel selfish to board a plane. Unsafe too. Unwise, certainly, if there is even a whisper of escalation. These are not silly fears. They are human ones. In a connected world, conflict no longer stays “over there”. It enters our phones, our kitchens, our children’s questions before breakfast.
But there is another reality, and it matters.
The world is not one place. It is many. Vast, varied, stubbornly alive. One region in crisis, however awful and dominant it may feel, is still one region in a very big world. That does not diminish suffering. It simply restores proportion.
And proportion matters.
Because if we stop moving every time the world darkens, we will stop moving altogether. The truth is that the world has often been in conflict, somewhere, in some form. Always has been. Yet people have still travelled, explored, met strangers, broken bread, fallen in love with places they could not previously pronounce. Travel has continued not because suffering is unimportant, but because connection is.
Travel, at its best, is not frivolous. It is education with dust on its shoes. It is empathy made real. It reminds us that headlines are not whole countries and that nations are not their governments, nor their conflicts, nor the worst thing currently happening near them. It teaches nuance in an age that rewards outrage. It makes other people less “other”.
That matters now more than ever.
Of course, none of this is an argument for being reckless. Read the advice. Watch the maps, not the mood. If the FCDO says don’t go, don’t go; travelling against official advice can invalidate cover, and some policies exclude conflict-related losses altogether. Do your homework. Ask difficult questions. Be grown-up about risk.
But do not confuse global unease with universal danger.
There is still wonder out there. Still generosity. Still perspective. Still a great deal of humanity to be found in departure lounges, back streets, breakfast tables and long roads.
So, should you travel at the moment?
Yes. Carefully. Thoughtfully. Responsibly. But yes.
Because travel is not an escape from the world. Done properly, it is an engagement with it. A vote for openness over fear. Curiosity over retreat. Understanding over suspicion.
And in times like these, that feels not indulgent, but important.
PS: One final thought.
Moments like these highlight the value of travelling with a proper tour operator. Their job is not simply to get you away, but, if circumstances change, to get you out of the way. Quietly, efficiently, and often before most travellers even realise there is a problem. In uncertain times, that kind of experience, network and responsibility is worth rather more than the price of a plane ticket.
If something you’ve read has struck a chord, feel free to drop us a note. We’re always happy to continue the conversation.