There are two friggingly fabulous travelogues in Netflix right now. One has Joanna Lumley as our indefatigable, elegant and enthusiastic guide, and the other by two of the most exciting, smart, odd couple from two powerhouse showbiz industries—South Korea and Taiwan.
I was not expecting much from Joanna Lumley’s Silk Road Adventure, having for its subject matter the astonishing and intimidating prospect of tracking the old Silk Route. If there are so-called big books in literature, then in travel documentary, tackling the Silk Route is indisputably the big book of tourism adventure. But, from the get-go in Venice and, believe it or not, reaching Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan, one is hooked to this most non-judgmental, naïve at times, ever-curious and intimate look at these places that many of us, used to destinations oh too frequently traveled, may never get to visit.
The secret of Joanna Lumley’s adventure is Joanna Lumley. The person who I thought would provide a patronizing perspective about the “natives” in these places visited is the same reassuring presence as she moves from the comfort (and class-A budget) of Venice and into towns that will never be recommended to tony tourists.
The most fascinating premise of Joanna Lumley’s tour is that one can touch the silk in an old store in Venice, ponder on the provenance of these commodities, and proceed to visit where they were manufactured—from long ago. On my part, I sensed the giddiness as Lumley, like some ultra-fashionable, elegantly crazy aunt (she may mockingly protest this label), takes a gondola ride across the canal and allow the camera, through editing, to bring her into what seems like unchartered territories.
Suddenly, it is Turkey, Georgia, Azerbaijan, Iran, Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan, and at a certain point, hitting an area near the borders of China.
I love how Lumley takes a train, gets down at a solitary station where only barren hills overlook a sparsely populated town, and then goes by car into a community of nomads or shepherds. I love it particularly when in some cold poor villages, Lumley—ever lovely in her bandana and scarves—refuses to go native or, in one case, shyly says no to the prospect of milking an animal. It is a reassuring scenario because it tells us the “natives” will not force themselves upon us, contrary to the supposed ethics of participant-observation.
There are anthropologists and zoologists out there as tour guides, but we need not be like them in order to gain lessons from a travel that makes boundaries one of the most unnecessary inventions of nations that always count themselves as member of a global family.
Feel the love of open and hidden spaces with Joanna Lumley’s Silk Road Adventure. There is another earlier travelogue that I feel you should watch and this is with Lumley again. It is Joanna Lumley’s Trans-Siberian Adventure, which starts from the cozy commercial confines of Hong Kong and terminates in Moscow via Mongolia.
The other travelogue is more complex: it has actors Lee Seung-gi of South Korea and Jasper Liu of Taiwan traveling to six Asian cities (Yogyakarta and Bali in Indonesia, Bangkok and Chiang Mai in Thailand, Pokhara and Kathmandu in Nepal).
I must confess I did not know these two charming, amiable and unpretentious Asian “idols” but as their trip progressed, I have to admit I became a fan.
And “fans” are at the core of this travel documentary: fans of the two guys recommend to them places to visit. But it is not as simple and as boring as that. A kind of unseen (well, partly) coordinator or travel manager facilitates (sometimes) or complicates (most of the time) the path these two young tourists.
The expression that it is not really the destination that matters but the process of going there, is wonderfully illustrated in this show. In Twogether, that adage gets a brilliant updating: the two men must complete missions together before they could leave that place and travel to the next. The ultimate test, however, is for them to find out who this fan is by finding out where she lives.
In the first episode, for example, Lee Seung-gi and Jasper Liu travel separately to Yogyakarta when they meet to begin the first challenge. This episode is downright exotic and difficult. They are told to look for a lamp in a cave. Succeeding, they find the first clue inside the lamp, which tells them to go to another cave. In that second spot, they could ask a question about the next clue if they are able to catch a fish. The clues are photos of a detail in a map indicating the house of the fan from whom the challenges come. The search for clues go on until they complete the map and, on it, the photo of the fan’s home.
Many things come together to make the travelogue compelling. First, there are the personalities of Lee Seung-gi and Jasper Liu. Both are, hands-down, natural with the challenges. They freak out alright but eventually rise to the difficult tasks. Second, they never lose their sense of humor even as they do not allow in any sense of drama. They are what life coaches may call “authentic” characters. Third, their chemistry is amazing. There are releases hinting at a brewing “bromance” between the two. You do not have to go there to have fun watching Twogether.
There is also collateral entertainment: Imagine two personalities who do not know each other’s language. Then, there is the fan answering to a call from the gate of her home and finding out it is her idol making a personal visit.
Impact on me? I wanted to go to Yogyakarta the day after watching the series.
In the absence of real travels amid this still ongoing pandemic, these journeys with Joanna Lumley and Lee Sung-gi and Jasper Liu are graces from the gods of adventures. These travel documentaries are all from Netflix, with Twogether being a Netflix Original Series.
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