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Illustration by Marley Allen-Ash
When war broken out in the Middle East last month, thousands of Canadians travelling in the region were left stranded and millions more were left worrying about loved ones. The situation was eerily familiar to just weeks before, when cartel violence erupted in Mexico’s Jalisco state and thousands of Canadians and locals were told to shelter in place. In both situations, flights were suspended and some travellers tried to register with Ottawa to get consular support, only to find the website overwhelmed.
For many, it felt unimaginable that a trip home to visit family or a holiday could turn into confinement overnight.
For me and millions affected globally by war and conflict, it felt predictable.
Flying (comfortably) once again into the Lebanese war zone by the sea
I have worked as a humanitarian during the Ebola response in the Democratic Republic of the Congo and on deployments in South Sudan, Haiti, Sri Lanka, Burkina Faso, Sierra Leone and Ukraine. Most recently, I was in Jamaica for the Category 5 Hurricane Melissa response. These are not tourist trips, but the lesson that carries across every context is simple: instability moves faster than people expect.
As travellers, we might prepare for lost luggage but we rarely prepare for blocked roads, suspended flights or days without internet.
In Jamaica, the warnings before Hurricane Melissa were clear. Radio, WhatsApp and community leaders shared evacuation guidance. The storm passed. Then came the harder part. Roads were washed out. Relief was uneven in the early days. In that uncertainty, misinformation spread and frustration rose.
In Eastern Congo, rumours about Ebola treatment centres led to violence against fellow health workers. In South Sudan, a road that was safe in the morning could become impassable by afternoon. In Ukraine, a routine trip to Crimea was cancelled after a Russian invasion.
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The common thread is not chaos. It is speed. Situations shift quickly. Systems strain. Information access falters.
As humanitarian aid workers deployed to insecure environments, we receive mandatory safety training. While tourists are not aid workers, some of the same principles apply.
First, register your trip before you leave. During the unrest in Mexico and the Middle East, some travellers attempted to register after violence had already begun. Systems were overwhelmed. Registration works best before departure, with stable internet. Make sure someone at home has your full itinerary and addresses of where you are staying.
Pack for short-term self-sufficiency. This does not mean tactical gear. It means a small “go bag” backpack with essentials: a flashlight, portable charger, basic first aid supplies, medications, paper copies of identification and insurance documents, a small amount of local currency, water and simple snacks. These items are inexpensive and easy to carry. They matter when movement is restricted.
Prepare for power and communication black outs. Write down key emergency contacts and program them into your phone. Know your geography. Identify the nearest hospital and consulate. Look at more than one route to the airport. In the DRC, washed-out roads forced rapid changes in our movement. A few minutes studying a map before departure can prevent dangerous improvisation.
Limit unnecessary movement during active unrest. The instinct to rush to the airport can increase risk if roads are blocked or tensions are high. Reliable local information, not urgency, should guide decisions.
Be mindful of visibility. In volatile settings, conspicuous displays of wealth, intoxication or loud confrontation can draw attention. Blending in is not paranoia. It is prudence.
Above all, do not become a burden.
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During Hurricane Melissa, local authorities needed to focus on residents who have lost everything. Tourists who have prepared, who carry their own essentials and who can shelter safely, are less likely to strain systems already under pressure.
Preparation is not only self-protection; it is an act of mutual respect and solidarity.
Kindness matters, too. Hotel staff, drivers and guides often have the clearest picture of conditions on the ground and can be key to getting home safely. Relationships built on respect become invaluable when systems falter.
Travel insurance and consular services have limits. Governments provide guidance, but they do not conduct immediate evacuations for every localized crisis. You may be advised to shelter in place for days. Planning for that possibility reduces panic and risk.
None of this means Canadians should stop travelling. I believe deeply in global connection. Mexico and Jamaica remain beloved destinations. Millions travel safely to visit loved ones or take holidays each year.
But climate disasters are intensifying. Organized crime persists in Canada and around the world. Political instability is not rare. The assumption that instability will stay at the margins is increasingly fragile.
In humanitarian work, we plan for disruption as routine. We assume tomorrow may look different from today. That mindset is not about fear. It is about responsibility to ourselves, to our families and to the communities that open their doors to us.
Before boarding a plane, ask a simple question: If the situation changes tomorrow, am I ready?
Because travelling responsibly is not only about protecting yourself. It is about recognizing that when crisis strikes, the people most affected are those who call that place home, and our choices as visitors should never deepen the inequities they already face.
Meaghan Thumath lives in Vancouver.
