Simon Calder: The Man Who Pays His Way

Truth: The first casualty of travel

Simon Calder The Man Who Pays His Way

"Romania: simply surprising" – that was roughly what I thought as the soldiers led me away for three hours of tough questioning at an army barracks outside the Transylvanian city of Brasov, close to the self-styled Dracula's castle. They got their teeth into me because they were unconvinced by my assurance that I was taking photographs of their handsome 19th-century building in blissful ignorance of it being a sensitive army installation.

Fifteen years on – not all of them, luckily, spent incarcerated in Romania – the same slogan reappeared at the World Travel Market, held this week in London's Docklands. Tourist officials from this Balkan backwater (Romania, not east London) were among nearly 200 countries squeezed in among hotels, airlines and car rental companies at the travel industry's annual deal-making frenzy. The purpose of the event is to negotiate the holidays that we'll be taking in 2004 and beyond. The public is not invited; journalists are, but I surprised myself by leaving my badge at home. So I had to sneak in via a fire escape at the ExCeL exhibition centre in the Docklands, where it was held, and spend the day dodging security guards. Just like Romania.

"We can't find Belgium," complained two colleagues from The Independent's advertising department, into whom I bumped outside Holland. The geography of the World Travel Market follows the realities of the planet only up to a point. Nations are grouped together by continent as much as possible, but within that the arrangement of stands breaks down seriously: the centre of Europe is a point at which Basel, Tallinn and Rotterdam converge. Lithuania stands opposite Iceland, while Germany faces Thailand.

Political sensitivities mean some nations have to be kept well apart: Macedonia and Montenegro are as far from Serbia as it is possible to be while remaining in the same building.

Every country, however poor its image on the world stage, has its slogan; the rump of the former Yugoslavia announces itself to be "Beautiful and selective", the latter term applied too literally by the previous regime's campaign of ethnic cleansing. Gran Canaria's claim to be "The island that you imagine" is shouted down by Barbados, which happens to be "Just beyond your imagination". Costa Rica's claim to have "No artificial ingredients" counters Uruguay's assertion that it is "A natural country".

Several places that are not actually nations have aspirations of independence. The Indian state of Kerala announces itself to be "God's own country", while the north-west Italian province of Cuneo is "The country of emotions".

The intersection between travel and conflict is much in evidence, too (in east London, not Romania). Poor Bali is the island where "The legend prevails". The self-styled Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus, recognised only by Turkey, is a "Sanctuary of unspoilt beauty" (presumably aimed at criminals keen to avoid extradition).

"Where Heaven & Earth Meet" turns out to be the Palestine stand, giving out "I love Palestine" stickers that emulate the New York City campaign. But when you ask about flights to the territory's only airport, it turns out that Palestinian Airways takes no-frills flying to the ultimate conclusion. It is a no-flights airline.

For delegates from Islamic countries, the World Travel Market is especially ill-timed. Prodigious amounts of food and drink are served. But this year, the show coincides with Ramadan, the Islamic month of fasting.

Queen Rania of Jordan, herself a Palestinian, gracefully agreed to address the Captains of Industry lunch on Monday. But because devout Muslims cannot eat or drink between sunrise and sunset, she had to leave before the meal began.

Slovakia's delegates were dismayed to find their stand facing Slovenia's. The two nations are frequently confused; last month, even BBC World TV News muddled the former Yugoslav republic with the nation that dropped off the end of Czecho-.

Slovenia enjoys the mark of national esteem that is important to countries around the globe: direct flights from its capital city to London, the world centre of aviation. Poor Slovakia is the only European country with an airport but no link to the UK (Moldova doesn't count, and neither do the tiddlers without a runway between them).

This month Gordon Brown generously cut Air Passenger Duty for flights to 14 countries in eastern and southern Europe, from Malta to Estonia. Thirteen of them saw the cost of flights from Britain fall by £15. But for Slovakia, the lucky tax break was academic.

Not one airline, chartered or scheduled, full-frills or none, bothers to fly from Britain to Bratislava. Why should they? There is no great unsatisfied appetite among travellers to see a concrete memorial of 45 years of state socialism – the Slovak National Uprising Bridge, perched like a wanton alien astride the Danube. The city suffered far more than Prague from the attentions of Iron Curtain planners, and rapidly became the ugly sister to the Czech capital.

Yet besides the piece of Soviet-imposed uncivil engineering crossing the river, the old town hosts a rich muddle of Gothic, baroque and Ottoman architecture, with narrow streets full of pastel-painted cottages. Despite these attractions, the Slovak capital still falls in the shadow of Prague, which is enjoying a flood (if the citizens will forgive the phrase) of new cheap flights from all over England.

The Slovak capital has been battled over for centuries. Bratislava is plumb in the middle of Europe; you can walk to Hungary in 90 minutes, and to Austria in an hour. Warriors from Celts to Turks have taken turns at trashing the place. The Slovak representatives have had a fruitless week trying to persuade the travel industry that their capital is the best thing since, well, Prague.

Can national pride be dented any deeper? Yes. Bratislava airport has hitherto been named after Milan Stepanik, a Slovak astronomer who died in a plane crash – not especially tactful for nervous flyers. SkyEurope, the main airline serving the capital, has now named the airport after a different city in another country.

Citizens in the Austrian capital are waking up to find that they now have a brand-new airport. A month ago, a new motorway was completed between Vienna and Bratislava. No sooner was the ribbon cut than the Slovak capital's airport was renamed after its Austrian rival: "Vienna-Bratislava Express Airport".

Surely this insult is enough to trigger a second Slovak National Uprising? Possibly not. SkyEurope has been told that the new name can be used anywhere outside Slovakia. But within the country, the citizens will continue to know it as Stepanik International.

Plans are afoot to launch flights from "Vienna" to London – and to Brussels, if anyone can find the Belgian capital. Back at the World Travel Market, I have finally tracked it down. Its unchallenging contours are crushed between the mighty mountains of Greece and Tenerife.