Portrait of A Kurdish man, Van, SE Turkey.

There is a reason why heading off the 'beaten track' is a perpetual trend among backpackers.

It's true to say that many of the most naturally beautiful areas of the world are coincidentally found in areas that are difficult to get to.

But then there are those like myself, who travel primarily due to a desire to witness social norms which differ from my own. And, again, you often find that the most hospitable, warm and welcoming locals are off the 'beaten track'.

So there we go.

To take Georgia as an example, and please excuse me while I betray my anthropological training by generalising everything and every one. Georgia is heralded throughout travel guides and word-of-mouth as being one of the most hospitable countries to visit.

I've heard tales of being taken into to a stranger's home, being treated to lavish meals. Prices were honest, taxi drivers didn't hassle you and people loved to see someone taking sincere interest their culture and country.

And indeed this was the case, a few years back. But, according to people who lived there and could speak the local language(s), this famous Georgian hospitality- to which tourists were first properly exposed to after the country became stable and less corrupt- is being rapidly subverted.

And the blame, dear reader, lies with the traveller.

Early travellers to an easily accessible Georgia did indeed experience free home-stays, meals, lifts. And as word of mouth spread it became an expectation. Locals would phone up the hostel-owners, with whom they had connections, and would confess their inability to carry on like this. So why not charge? Exactly, and seeing an opportunity they started charging a lot.

And for that you cannot blame them in the slightest. Tourism brings money, money brings life. It is an irrevocable and inevitable process that unwinds around the country fluctuating in absolute relativity with the number of tourists (and therefore the number of pennies).

It is the catch 22 of backpacking. If you go somewhere, no matter how far you push the boundaries, you have an indubitable effect on those you encounter (I stress to add that this isn't necessarily negative). But as the waves roll in, small effects morph into change on a deeper and vaster level as locals adapt to the new environment from which they can thrive.

So, unlike Turkey, my greetings to the strangers fishing off the pier were often met with a stare. Taxi drivers would bombard you at the marshrutka stations, and shops would have a special little price, just for you.

And I reiterate, you can't blame them, part of me even enjoys that frantic energy. It's just now I think I know how it comes to pass in a country in the middle of a huge tourist boom. And I reckon I'd do exactly the same, were I to notice that efficiency paid more than pleasantries- just walk for two minutes around Istanbul or Marrakesh!

Yet, nor should we stop visiting these far flung (for me) regions in order to conserve our idea of a pleasant culture; 'eco-' and 'ethno-' travel companies often propagate that sort of piffle.

The backpacking territory has already touched every corner of the earth and where those tracks are made people will most certainly follow to experience anything akin to the stories of the people before. Only they'll most likely find that the traits that were once so desirable have become slightly diluted, so perhaps they'll go further and start some new tracks. This pattern is ceaseless.

I digress, again...

Although I met lots of really lovely people in Georgia, there still remains a different atmosphere here in the Kurdish areas of SE Turkey. On the night bus last night the guy sat next to me gave me one of his lemon cakes, some tea, some sweets, some water and a handful of almonds.

I mean a real handful, he kept pouring until I had to use two hands and then left me while he nipped back off to get tea. My mouth was getting drier as I ate them- and they were endless!

What if I just did a Napoleon Dynamite and pocketed them? I thought, but then what if I stand up and all the almonds he gave me come trundling ungratefully out onto his lap... best not, eh.

So I sat like a hamster for the next twenty minutes, trying to make light of my struggle with his nuts...