After a terrifying experience, I swore I’d never travel again. But I did

It was the first time I’d ever felt the earth move. But, terrifying as experiencing an earthquake was, it was nothing compared with what came next.

“Quick! Get in!” the man yelled at me in Spanish, in a tiny town somewhere between the Peruvian coast and its slice of the Amazonian rainforest, indicating a rough wooden house nearby.

Police officers block the street during a demonstration in Quito, Ecuador.Credit: Getty Images

I stood stock still, totally unable to grasp what was happening, as the ground under me shook and an unearthly roar and crashing filled my ears. He grabbed my arm.

“Come!” he shouted above the din. “Now!”

I obediently allowed myself to be dragged inside and pushed under a small table where a woman, presumably his wife, and two kids were already huddled. I tried to gather my wits. I searched for the right Spanish word. “Terremoto?” I asked. “Si, earthquake,” he said, obviously realising that Spanish wasn’t my first, second or even fifth language.

“But wait. Next will come the wave.”

“The wave?” I repeated dully, my heart suddenly cold with dread. The wave? Something inside my brain clicked. A tsunami? Oh my God. Why the hell, then, were we taking refuge under a rickety old table for safety? We needed a high mountaintop, a bomb shelter, or perhaps a bomb shelter on a mountaintop. But it was too late now. And I was grateful to these locals for trying to save me, even though we might all be goners. I wouldn’t, at least, be dying alone.

We crouched for a total of five nerve-wracking, nail-biting hours under that table. The man and his wife constantly crossed themselves; I just shook. If I survived this, I told myself, I would never travel again. In between, we made surreal small talk, and I showed the kids how to play noughts and crosses scratched on the earthen floor, as we all waited, in fear and dread, for the worst to happen.

“Not long now,” the man would hiss at varying intervals. “The wave will come soon. Can you swim?”

But, eventually, when nothing came and, when my host decided it was safe, we all crawled stiffly out from under the table. I thanked them and hugged them and thanked them again, and then finally went on my way. And, of course, I never stopped travelling.

For I learnt something incredibly important that day. If your time has come, with something as titanic as an earthquake or a tsunami, then there really isn’t much you can do about it, beyond running, hiding or swimming for your life. And that could happen just as easily at home in Victoria’s Apollo Bay, Western Australia’s Marble Bar or NSW’s Newcastle, as in the far-flung corners of the Earth.

Lahore, Pakistan. Taking note how local people dress and behave also offers valuable clues on how to keep yourself safe, particularly if you’re travelling alone.Credit: iStock

There are reports that some travellers are now becoming fearful of venturing overseas because of the consequences of events such as the wars in Ukraine, Gaza and the Sudan, piracy in Somalia, trouble in Yemen, the ruthlessness of the Taliban in Afghanistan, the crushing of all opposition in Myanmar, threats from China about the sovereignty of Taiwan, and, finally, the return of Donald Trump to power in the US. These are all making many wary of leaving home, sweet home.

But I firmly believe that travel today in most parts of the world is much safer than it’s ever been. For despite the political and climactic turmoil, now we have sophisticated warning systems about most impending natural disasters, and we all carry with us advanced means of communication, apps for finding help and support wherever we are, and ubiquitous credit cards.

We also have so much information easily at hand, from the Australian Government’s Smartraveller advice, insurance companies who’ll refuse to give us cover if there’s anywhere too risky to venture, and news services eager to let us know the minute anything goes awry.

Most other dangers can be safely avoided, or negotiated with a modicum of commonsense, a bit of planning and research, a healthy respect for local rules and mores, and a fair dose of luck. And often you could find yourself in just as much trouble in your local neighbourhood.

There are always basic rules to observe. Shortly after that earthquake, I went to the Ecuadorian capital Quito and got caught up in mass student demonstrations against the rising cost of petrol, since aftershocks closer to the epicentre had fractured the trans-Andean fuel pipeline to the Pacific port of Balao and caused food shortages. It can be terrifying being caught up in a crowd’s fury, but I immediately took shelter in local shops until the people had passed, and the police tear gas had cleared. Tick.

Taking note how local people dress and behave also offers valuable clues on how to keep yourself safe, particularly if you’re travelling alone. In Pakistan, I was fastidious about wearing the national dress, the Shalwar kameez – made up of baggy trousers and a loose shirt over the top – as well as a scarf over my hair most of the time.

I found most of the locals treated me warily but politely, possibly as a result. Only one time did some small boys throw pebbles at me in Lahore, shouting that they didn’t like foreigners. Happily, none of them possessed the sharp aim of their countryman, former Test cricketer, now ill-fated former Prime Minister, Imran Khan, and I was able to laugh it off.

Beware what you eat... falling sick is the most common risk travellers face.Credit: Getty Images

In Syria, only once did my outfit fail me. There, I wore the traditional long gown, the Thobe, but when I sat on the floor in a mosque in Damascus one time, a woman came over, shouted something, and thwacked me with a book. I hadn’t noticed that my leg wasn’t covered, where I sat, by the material.

Falling sick is generally the biggest risk travellers face, caused sometimes by food that we’re unused to, at others by unsanitary conditions in which it’s prepared, or simply by unclean water used in the process. And that tends to be a matter of luck – or the lack thereof. I’ve been the sickest I ever have in my life after a fabulous meal in a five-star hotel in Udaipur, India.

That’s when travel insurance comes into its own, either paying for doctors or, if necessary, a spell in hospital. In the worst-case scenario, it can even fund an airlift back home.

Worryingly, with insurance costs rising 24 per cent in the last 12 months, according to a report released by money-saving website Mozo, too many travellers are embracing the false economy of skipping insurance. A survey of 1056 Australians by comparison company Finder found that an incredible 59 per cent have travelled without taking out insurance – a figure that’s equivalent to almost 12 million taking the risk – mostly to save cash.

I’d just echo the mantra by so many insurance companies: if you can’t afford travel insurance, you can’t afford to travel.

But you can do so much yourself to avoid having to claim on it. Relations between the genders, for example, demand close attention. In Egypt once, on the way to Giza from Cairo in a crowded bus, I realised a man was taking advantage of the crush, by having an opportunistic feel. I slapped his face and, in the uproar that followed, the bus driver turfed me off the bus to walk, with my backpack, the rest of the way.

That was a valuable lesson: physical violence, however well-deserved, and particularly by a foreign woman towards a local man in a public place, is definitely a last resort.

Mostly, it’s just about being practical and aware of circumstances and any local sensitivities, and being careful about yourself and your possessions. Doing some research before you go is always a great idea too. Check Smartraveller and local websites and apps useful for the area.

Then it’s likely, with all your technology at hand, you’ll be safer than any other travellers throughout history. And you can be confident that you’ll have nothing more to worry about on your trip than how many extraordinary sights you’ll see, fascinating people you’ll meet and gorgeous memories you’ll make that can be cherished forever.