Traveller or Tourist

Although they are both temporary states, I still draw a distinction between a traveller and a tourist. One is making a journey to be immersed in a place, the other is skimming the surface trying to visit the highlights before catching the train to the next destination. I learned a lesson early on when we were at our wits end shepherding kids from museum to museum in Paris. Is this how we would spend a day off at home? We asked them what they would like to do instead. My son said he wanted to visit a pool. So, we did. It was a local recreation centre off the beaten path, crowded with neighbourhood families and requiring all of our limited French to figure it out. Oh, and we had to buy bathing suits. We still made it to a few incredible museums and typical landmarks, but the memories that most often come to mind are of these ordinary experiences. Familiar but made different.

When you experience something similar, but not the same, you have the ability to compare and appreciate what you have, and what you lack.

Now a days, particularly in the era of Air BnB, you can rent a place that feels more genuine than another Westin hotel room ever could. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the king-sized bed and fresh towels, but it doesn’t plug you in the same way buying some groceries with labels you can only guess at, walking up four flights of stairs past bicycles and strollers, and figuring out how the stove works to warm up some soup.

There’s still an urgency to experience the highlights. To not miss what a place is renowned for. And that’s important too. I would regret not visiting the Design Museum in Copenhagen, so long as we allowed time to find the local coffee shop, crack open a book and read in the park, or enjoy a glass of wine at the café around the corner.

Living this way, also prompts you to move about like the people who call this place home. Take the public transit, rent a bicycle or walk. Getting lost is a gift. Although with today’s apps and google maps that isn’t as scary as it might once have been. It encourages you to be on your best behaviour, to drop your guard and to behave as if you are planning to return to this shop again and again.

While you could default to your routines and habits, part of the appeal of visiting a new place is in change. Strolling through the market and buying cheese, or joining the line for a hole-in-the wall ramen bar.

I can’t pretend that I really blend in, not after a week. But I like to hope I develop a level of comfort and can relax in a way I might not otherwise. Visiting the same coffee shop a couple of times might bring a nod from the barista. Sitting at the bar with an open sketchbook may spark a conversation or an interested glance. Its a small human connection that yields a smile and reminds me I am an ambassador.

After such a visit, there is a temptation to return again. The lingering halo of the trip when I arrive home is appealing. I notice sometimes how I behave differently when I'm back on my turf. There are parts of a traveller's disposition that I hope persist. The return becomes not so much about the place, as the state of being. A new destination will do just as well. It is a big world.