Far From Home season one documents the journey of two brothers, one a public radio journalist and one a photographer, and their two friends Rosi and Jane as they embark on the Mongol Rally in 2016. The Mongol Rally is an 11,000 mile road trip from the UK to Russia that is organized by a group called the Adventurists. Their primary goal is seemingly to create maximum inconvenience for participants and the rescue services they inevitably encounter; or, excuse me, maximum adventure. The most important rule: make the trip in a tiny, shitty car. Everything else is up to you—there’s no set route.
Scott Gurian is the podcast host, and he documents the entirety of the road trip process—not only the travel itself, but all of the preparation that goes into it and the comedown that inevitably follows. In a way, it’s a choice that undercuts the romantic, adventure-podcast potential. Instead of diving headfirst into the exciting voyage, the season kicks off with four episodes covering every step of the process—from visiting central Asian restaurants in New York City to figuring out what you can eat in Kazakhstan as a vegetarian to learning how to drive stick and getting a first aid certificate. One episode even covers the excruciating process of acquiring visas for fifteen different countries that aren’t exactly making the process easy for American tourists (e.g., Iran, Turkmenistan).
It’s a potentially risky choice as one attempts to build a new podcast audience—but personally, I loved it. Part of this is because I’m a huge lover of travel planning myself; the preparation is at least half the fun. A large part of the appeal, though, lies in the contrast created with other travel and adventure stories with which I am more familiar. Many such stories center large egos, people (often men) who are somehow uniquely suited to do x amazing thing. One ought to be jealous of their trip, in awe—it’s probably not something possible to pull off oneself. By way of contrast, Gurian and his friends are curious to try something that feels intimidating to them, and to invite the listener into the learning journey they must take to make it feasible. This approach is illustrative of what is to come when the road trip finally kicks off.
The four companions kick off with a “mad dash” across Europe, eager to reach the new-to-them roads beyond the EU and to save time that might be required later, as these new roads are likewise more treacherous. They face their first hiccup early on as an attempted coup has just taken place along their route in Turkey. My first hint that I was listening to something unique came with the conversations of what to do in response. The companions briefly consider a reroute to avoid Turkey. They discuss their own concerns and those of their loved ones: that being citizens of the US and UK could put a target on their backs, placing them in danger in a volatile environment. They discuss the more likely scenario: that this attempted coup will have great consequences for the Turkish people, but largely will not affect them as relatively wealthy foreign tourists. It’s an awkward listen in a way—is it too reductive of the complexities of the conflict?—but simultaneously an honest engagement with the paradox and discomfort of tourism as a “Westerner.” Ultimately, they decide to stick to their route, but pass quickly through Istanbul without making their planned stop. They instead rest in calmer Cappadocia, where an interesting conversation with a local on the challenges of a tourism-based economy follows.
The season is twenty-four episodes and approximately twelve hours long, and each is worth a listen for the full road trip experience. To me, one episode stands out as a highlight: “Not What We Expected,” which documents the second half of the group’s stay in Iran. Their insights into day-to-day life in this country, insofar as observant outsiders spending little time there can capture it, are interesting—but again, it is the curiosity and openness in Gurian’s approach that are truly fantastic.
The episode, in addition to an exploration of the preconceived notions of US and Iranians citizens, features a trip by the companions to the holy site of the Imam Reza shrine. The shrine is full of worshipers who have come to see and touch the tomb of the Imam. It’s the only documented excursion of this kind that the companions make to my memory, and also one of the few proper moments of tension between them. Rosi and temporary companion Kevin crack jokes, making light of the somewhat overwhelming devotional atmosphere that they don’t understand, while Gurian hangs back in a position of reserved observation. He’s uncomfortable, not because of the environment, but because of his friends’ response to it—and frankly, so was I as a listener.
To Gurian’s credit as a journalist and friend, he doesn’t leave the discomfort there, painting himself as a foil to his companions. Instead, he has a challenging conversation with his friends, sharing his discomfort over the jokes and his attempts to be respectful, even if he doesn’t fully understand. This openness prompts thoughtful responses from his companions, as they reflect on why they reacted the way they did to the shrine’s environment. “I felt like I was a voyeur, watching someone else’s devotion when I just don’t share it at all,” Rosi confesses. She admits to feeling uncomfortable with how extremely patriarchal the environment felt to her, which contributed to her joking dismissiveness. Jane, meanwhile, feels quite differently, noting that women’s rights in the UK are far from perfect, and that the situation seems to be improving for Iranian women.
Unfortunately for the four companions, car troubles quickly take center stage not long after this point in the season. The trip organizers require cheap, tiny cars to be used to slow down participants, facilitate interactions with locals, and maximize adventure—afterall, “it’s no fun if it’s too easy.” At the start of season two, Gurian notes listener feedback that excitement got a bit lost amidst all of the car breakdowns. Frankly, I didn’t mind; it’s another contrast to overly romanticized adventure stories, and I continued to enjoy open conversations and learning about places I’ve never given much consideration. I also learned a little bit about cars. For example, you really shouldn’t crack an egg inside of your car’s radiator to patch a leak, especially if you want to make a good impression on your Uzbek car mechanic.
When Scott, Drew, Rosi, and Jane finally arrive at the finish line, I felt as if I’d completed something of significance myself. I learned specifics of countries I’d never contemplated, zooming in on treacherous mountain passes on Google Maps. I was challenged to reflect on my own approach to new places and cultures, on what it means to travel well, and how to have productive and open conversations with my friends in response. I have a new fondness for small podcasts, wherein creators can change up their format and follow their interests more easily.
Whether you’re planning your own Central Asian roadtrip, need to fill a travel void, or are looking for a great listen to cheer up this cold mid-winter, I highly recommend Far From Home. Check out season one here, or wherever you get your podcasts.
Rylan Shewmaker (‘21) calls herself a geographer, though none of her degrees substantiate this. After growing up in Texas and studying in Grand Rapids, she moved to Brussels, Belgium, for her master’s degree in urban studies. She still lives in Brussels and works for a housing non-profit. She enjoys audiobooks, bike commuting, sunny days, and learning new things.
