Lifting the veil: Frances Linzee Gordon

There is a lot to be said for being a woman in a man's world, writes Lonely Planet author FRANCES LINZEE GORDON.

'YOU will die,'' the man screamed. ''You will die alone in the desert.'' ''You are a woman,'' he continued, laughing hysterically. ''Do you dare to believe that you, a woman, can survive the great Erg Chebbi?''

That was it. I took my foot off the clutch, stamped the accelerator to the floor and with a tremendous blast of engine, sand and dust, took off. As I peered through the windscreen into the great sandy abyss before me, I wondered if I would indeed ever reach Merzouga...

Well if I didn't, I'd be dammed if I didn't die trying.

It was my first major assignment for Lonely Planet. The brief: to rewrite completely a guidebook about Morocco. Talk about baptism by fire. I'd had a car chase through the Rif Mountains pursued by drug barons, a car accident, a nasty stomach bug, and no less than 24 marriage proposals; eight in a single day. And now, a guide was demanding an exorbitant fee to navigate the desert to Merzouga.

Yes, travelling solo as a woman has its challenges. But over the dozen or so years that I have worked as a travel writer, through the 100 or so countries that I have journeyed - some considered among the most dangerous in the world - I have come to believe passionately that a woman should never feel afraid to travel just because she is a woman.

Indeed I am certain that women even have huge advantages over men when they travel.

On many occasions I have been granted visas, interviews, permits and special permissions when my male colleagues have not. I recall a warm night in Addis Ababa some 10 years previously. I had been invited to a cocktail party where the rich, the powerful, the fat and the very fat mingled freely. It was a riot and the champagne flowed freely.

But from one corner, a Western man threw daggers in my direction. Finally, championed by the champagne, I approached him:

''Have we met before?'' I tried with a nervous smile. ''No,'' he replied still scowling. ''But I know exactly who you are.''

After similarly staccato exchanges, I eventually established who he was: the BBC's correspondent for East Africa. It seems he had been trying for four years to obtain an interview with Ethiopia's Prime Minister, Meles Zenawi.

''And you,'' he went on, his voice beginning to tremble with obvious irritation, ''You've been here no more than a couple of weeks, and you sweep into town and spend an hour and a half with the man!''

Trying to make amends, I gave him before leaving, the name of a contact in neighbouring Djibouti, where he was due to spend the next several days. A few weeks later I spied him again at a party. This time he was all smiles and sidled up to me.

''I have to say, thanks for the introduction. My God, your name was like a key. I had only to drop 'Frances' and things would happen!''

No special talent; no special training. Merely the fact of being a woman. Of course it can help to up the ante a bit sometimes. I'm often asked what special items I never travel without.

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Forget the torch, towel and travel pillow. If you're a woman, never leave home without one smart skirt and some lippy.

A woman travelling alone does attract attention. But don't think this is necessarily a disadvantage. For one thing, you have much greater contact with the local people. I can no longer count the number of weddings, christenings, and parties I have attended, nor the number of marvellous meals at home with a local family.

Most rare, most precious and priceless however are those special encounters, insights and experiences that truly make a guidebook sing. Once I was privy to all the wiles and ways of ''How to please your husband'' at an all-women tea party in East Africa. I've read my share of salacious How-To Cosmo articles, watched enough episodes of Sex & the City, and dare I admit, had my share of boyfriends.

But compared to those women there, let me tell you, we in the West know absolutely nooottthhiiinngg.

In my travels, I've been flown by Saudi princes to see their falcons fly; shared pizza around the Cabinet table with a Minister of Interior, and been painted by an artist I had come myself to interview. What occasions such generosity, hospitality and privilege? No more than simply being a woman.

Yes, I do not deny that there are days that have their challenges. What woman has ever come to terms with the embarrassment, almost humiliation of eating alone in a restaurant? Once when obliged by another Lonely Planet guidebook to visit a well-known restaurant in France, I found myself the centre of attention of my fellow-diners. I gobbled the gizzards, grenouilles and fois gras as fast as I could, but not fast enough evidently to avoid a confrontation with my fellow gluttons:

''There is only one zing sadder zan eating alone,'' my neighbour, a particularly handsome Frenchman began with a low bow as he passed by me on his way out. ''And zat is zeeing a beautiful woman eating alone. I wish you a very bonne nuit, Madame.''

I longed to tell him that I'd just eaten one of the best meals of my life, that I had finally summoned up courage to try frogs legs, and that, moreover, I was absolutely thrilled not to have to share one single one of those meaty little morsels with some ''swain'' who bored me senseless. But instead, I went as purple as the quality claret I was quaffing, cast my eyes to the ground, and coughed cheese biscuits all over the fine linen table cloth.

If dining alone, here's a top tip: take along one pen and notepad. You'll be mistaken for a food critic and at the very least be guaranteed good service and a fawning, fulsome waiter. Put off by the punitive hotel practice of offering only double rooms? Have a quiet word with the hotel manager. Many hotels keep back smaller, less desirable rooms in times of emergencies, overflows or double-bookings.

I used always to don a wedding ring - it appeared to pre-empt potential ''misunderstandings'' - until I went to one African country where it appeared to have the opposite effect. Married women, you see, are considered easier game than unmarried maidens. Legion are the faux pas on that front. I once, after a short wrestle, slapped a famous but rather too frisky man I was interviewing.

''You did what?,'' a local friend asked in horror when I later confessed all back at my hotel. ''But you should have slapped him twice... the number one is very unlucky in my country.''

Perhaps the top trick for sole women is to dress and behave more conservatively than you would at home.

Despite the faux pas, confusions and occasional excitements, I cannot recommend enough the experience of travelling alone. It is without doubt the most rewarding, satisfying and gratifying thing I have ever done. And yes, in case you were wondering, I did make it to Merzouga - though the bloody knuckles and sand-encrusted fingernails did rather give me away.

Frances Linzee Gordon is the author of numerous Lonely Planet guidebooks, including Oman, UAE & Arabian Peninsula (2007), Turkey (2007), Middle East (2006), Arabian Peninsula (2004), Ethiopia, Eritrea & Djibouti (2003 and 2000) and Morocco (1998). She has lived in various countries including Spain, Germany and Belgium and currently lives in London.

Taking cover

Extract from Lonely Planet blog on wearing an Abeyya (full robe) and Burkha (face covering) in Saudi Arabia.

Veiled Freedom?

''To my surprise, I rather liked it. From within the veil I could see without being seen, understand without being understood, and ogle the magnificent tribesmen of Najran without suffering inspection myself.

''It shielded from the sun and deterred the dust; it hid blemishes and bags bought on by a late-night's writing or a 15-hour journey. It concealed uncombed hair, a crumpled shirt or clumsy cosmetics. When I later returned to London, the pressure to appear fashionable, feminine and au fait again seemed almost overwhelming. To my surprise, I secretly coveted those days in my coverings...

''Don't think the Saudis themselves miss out too much either. Underneath that austere attire, many Saudi women don the finest fabrics or Milan's most fashionable fittings. Saudi women are also among the highest spenders on luxury lingerie.

Saudi men manage too:

''From the fold in a woman's ankle, you know her age,'' Abdullah one day explained gleefully and sheepishly at the same time.

''From the size of her wrist, you know her build. From the abeyya in motion her figure; and from her hands, her complexion. And from the eyes, you have everything else...''

Going burkha

Here are five unique destinations for the intrepid female traveller.

1. Saudi Arabia - you may not be permitted by law to drive, but wearing an abeyya (all-covering robe) and burkha (face cover) is unexpectedly liberating.

2. Yemen - buy a burkha from the local market, find a ''husband'' (obliging driver or guide) and goggle the gorgeous tribesmen from the safety of your coverings.

3. Eritrea - think we women in the West have attitude and mettle? Visit the tiny East African nation where every man and woman fought to free their country, and where the ballsy women fighters have never looked back.

4. Lebanon - fancy some retail therapy Middle-East style? Check out the haute couture of Beirut's beautiful and buzzing boutiques. It ain't called the ''Paris of the Orient'' for nothing.

5. Iran - learn a womanly wile or two from women considered among the most beautiful on the planet. Take a tour of the markets in their company and learn the century-old secrets of seduction.