Let’s Debate: Is a Travel Guidebook More Efficient Than a Smartphone?

Yes, having tangible information in a guidebook keeps useful information at the ready.

My “South America On a Shoestring” guidebook was not exactly backpacker-friendly, but in 2009, sans smartphone or laptop, I lugged that 1,112-page travel tome around for almost a year exploring the continent on a solo trip.

An element of nostalgia fuels my bookish penchant for guidance that’s tangible, not digital. 

Fourteen years ago, traipsing without technology meant a reliance on the maps I ripped from that Lonely Planet edition each time I stumbled bleary-eyed off a bus in a new city or village in search of a place to sleep. When deciding where to go next in Brazil, Argentina or Colombia, I relied on the book’s suggestions, its hidden gems and remote enclaves. Now, one can find similar tips via an online search, but between algorithm changes, ChatGPT-generated lists, and opportunistic bloggers who might have enjoyed a free stay in exchange for a glowing online post, my loyalty remains with the experts responsible for a guidebook’s content.

Through the years, guidebooks have let me plan ahead but also given me the confidence to go with the flow. Travel involves flexibility, no matter how much you research and plan. A guidebook on Vietnam steered me away from the lovely, albeit touristy, Hoi An, and led me to Quy Nhon, a charming coastal town with few foreign visitors.

And when researching ryokans in a Japan guidebook before my honeymoon in 2016, I appreciated the tip to book these inns six months in advance—excellent advice as it turned out. No bride wants to be told there’s no room at the ryokan.

Perhaps this nugget of booking wisdom exists online, but would I have discovered it in time? That brings me to another point: Guidebooks hold lots of valuable facts in one place. Sure, the internet has infinite sources, but I have a finite number of hours for research. A guidebook is a field guide to fun—all the cool places to sleep, eat, visit and ogle. Plus, what’s more reliable when Wi-Fi gets wonky? You know my answer by now. 

Dog-eared pages, sticky tabs, orange highlighted passages, notes scrawled in the margins—for me, guidebooks are the ultimate travel companion: inspiring, flexible, generous, clever and astute. I love the handy 5-, 7-, 10-day itineraries and the reliable advice from “getting here” strategies to what time of year to go, plus “essentials” on tipping etiquette, safety notes and more. 

On occasion, I feel inspired by online travel stories, but those narratives won’t get me from A to Z.

—Stacey Lastoe

I had not purchased, used or even seen a travel guidebook in so many years that I was surprised to discover six linear feet of the dusty volumes occupying two lower shelves of our home’s library. Clearly, I once found them valuable, especially DK’s Eyewitness Travel series. 

But now the downsides (their weight, bulk and inherent datedness) are apparent. Having the information for a destination’s landmarks, restaurants and abodes all in one place used to matter, but my cellphone contains multitudes. It can also snap a photo of a menu, business card or town square and store it, weightlessly. 

Grand Tour guidebooks like Baedeker’s offered their well-vetted imprimatur, sending all the “right people” to all the right (read “same”) places. Instagram—the Devil’s eye-candy—gets dissed for similarly pointing people en masse to the chalk cliffs in Sussex or azure waters in Bali. An IG search for “Jaipur” might lead to Villa Palladio (Villa-Palladio-Jaipur.com), the hotel with photogenic crimson-on-crimson décor, but also to @travelsofsamwise, written by a historian with an informative perspective on India. 

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I’m hardly a webmaster of insider travel sites, but I do have a quick routine for tailoring trips to my interests by scanning municipal websites—like EsMadrid.com—which offer travel tips and routes tailored to short or longer stays. My typical searches are for the best small museums, gallery districts and local flea markets. 

For me, those places tend to segue into cool neighborhoods where local designers, worthwhile restaurants and other spots unique to that city abound. Once I have a place to start, I unwind, because I prefer exploring to following an itinerary. 

Granted, I grew up with a “wherever the wind takes us” travel philosophy. My father once flew 12 of us to New Orleans for the Super Bowl with no hotel plans beyond insisting we stay in the French Quarter (we did, at the Monteleone no less). 

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 I recently guided my own family on a four-day getaway to Geneva, under the threat of rain. With a rental car and our smartphones, we had our pick of beautiful cities such as Dijon and Beaune in France or Lucerne or Gstaad in Switzerland, to outrun the clouds. And outrun them we did, finding sunny days in Bern, Gruyères and finally Geneva, once the rain left the lakeside city. To finesse that freewheeling plan the old-school way, we’d have needed multiple guidebooks and lots of Swiss francs for all the pay phone calls to hotels.

—Andrew Ferren

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