In the early 1970s Ted Simon set off alone on his Triumph motorcycle, Jupiter, to ride around the world. He was gone 4 years and, in an age before mobile phones or cheap flights home, was often out of touch for worryingly long periods. His book, first published in 1979, is a particular favourite of mine. The faces of the old men told me there had been something once that was lost and could be found again.” Gone were the interesting anecdotes and interesting people, in its place we get introspection and self analysis and almost self pity. Interesting it was not. Following my old path made it more of a journalistic journey, as I had something by which to compare it all. It was a daring thing to do because I felt the news was inevitably going to be bad. I start the book with that idea, a quote by Paul Valéry: “The future is not what it used to be.” From the point of view of a Bolivian Indian chewing Coca on the altiplano, I could see that it would already be pretty difficult to distinguish between the two.”

I had no idea how long it would take, or what sort of an experience it would be. I felt I knew nothing about the world, and the trip was a way for me to see what was going on. In the end, I was gone for four years, and passed through 50 countries. The voyage became the basis of my book, Jupiter’s Travels. Although I do not share many of the author's views, I liked most of the book, learned historical facts, and gained food for thought. The book also made me reflect upon some of my own shortcomings, and there's always value in that. He was supposedly a journalist but his writing comes up short on many occasions. Some of his passages are so clumsily written that I didn’t have the faintest idea of what was happening.Reason for this review is I find some description of the places and people a little offensive and disrespectful, stereotyping a culture and objectifying women. Like do we really need to know he can see the breasts under the robe? Is that all he sees when he sees women? I mean the description of the women at one point was ‘they cover their mouths and he could see breasts’.

How did I not remember all of that, was I flying with the faeries all those years ago when I first read this, or did I just so admire what he had done that I forgave the last third of the book, or was I less critical 40 years ago. I shall never know. Don't get me wrong I still admire Ted Simon greatly, but pull yourself together man !! Oh tell me please, how does it go, the triple jump?" She pro nounced it tripee-el She had a way of pleading for things in her Brazilian English to make you understand that they were matters simultaneously of no consequence and of life and death. You could refuse, and nothing would be changed; or you could give, and earn undying gratitude. It was a great gift, which she had won by long effort and sorrow and laughter. It was the humorous residue of cravings which had once been corrosive enough to etch her face.Esta advertencia se puede leer en la contraportada del libro... y puede ser una premonición. Sin duda, debes estar predispuesto para dejarte permear por el relato de Ted Simon, pero si lo estás, este puede ser un libro iniciático y el desencadenante, la chispa, el empujón que uno necesita para agarrar una bolsa de viaje y echarse a la carretera. Maybe you know how it is when you have decided to do something really enormous with your life, something that stretches your resources to the limit. You can get the feeling that you are engaged in a trial of strength with the universe.” In the end, while I appreciate the fact that traveling in the physical world means also undergoing an inner journey, I would have appreciated a little less navel-gazing, and a little more effort towards showing both positive and negative sides of each place. Forgotten the title or the author of a book? Our BookSleuth is specially designed for you. Visit BookSleuth I have a copy of his book Dreaming of Jupiter in which he retraces his route thirty years later, and I will inevitably read that too, just not straight away.

But at some point descriptions of dresses that held "breasts up for [his] inspection" and calling a woman a "silly cow" really spoiled my enjoyment of the book.His mention of currencies has no meaning whatsoever, especially 40 years later. You should always describe something in the form of value. I learned this from Issac Asimov who wrote that a robot cost two weeks of pay. That will always have meaning. But it was nothing, a paper seal slipped in assembly, easily put right. You could stop the oil if you took the trouble. That was what British bikes liked, a bit of trouble. They thrived on attention, like certain people, and repaid you for it. Not a bad relationship to have.”

The writing was better than I anticipated - some beautiful metaphors along the meaningful philosophical thoughts transformed parts of it into quality literature. Try as I would to imagine a rosier future, I could see only ever-increasing numbers of people determined to seize on the resources of the earth and pervert them into greater and greater heaps of indestructible concrete and plastic ugliness, only to look and learn and retreat in penitent dismay before the next wave of 'developing' citizens. And there seemed to be nothing that I or any individual could do that would make it a jot of difference to the outcome." p.214 He makes a few wonderful insights but he spends far too many words fussing over his bike and his predicament at different stages in his journey.If the book's conclusions are depressing, the writing is anything but. It is, at times, sparse, at others gloriously luminescent, but always self-deprecating. Simon's physical powers are diminishing, but his writing just gets better. The wonderful portraits of the people he encounters, often redolent of Bruce Chatwin, are sometimes so enticing that, were this a movie, you'd swear they were a plant for later on. But we never see or hear from most of them again and this, I suppose, is the essence of the journey.