On the surface, these two labels may appear to be very similar.
They both involve travel, leaving behind normality and entering a new culture and territory. Despite this, a tourist and a traveller are extremely opposing breeds of people, and I’ll tell you why.
When the bags are packed, the tickets are in hand, the annual leave is approved and paradise (or poverty) awaits, there’s already a mindset in place. You either travel to see the sights or you venture off in the hope of something new. There’s a difference.
A tourist can be spotted a mile away by locals and travellers alike. They wear all the trinkets they were tricked into buying by savvy salesmen, they hold out money as though it warrants respect and they take photos of everything. And I mean everything. The camera dangles around the neck or the battery ticks away on the iPhone as snap after snap of each and every new angle uploads to social media.
‘Look at me, look at where I am,’ it says.
A traveller on the other hand soon blends into surroundings. They dress comfortably and appropriately, they know when they’re being ripped off and all worthwhile memories are stored in the mind. Travelling is an experience, not a photo book.
It isn’t a secret learned through study; it’s the accumulated knowledge gained through accepting a new culture and living the way the locals live.
Tourists can fly to the most beautiful location the world has to offer. They are always seeking a way to replicate home. Hotels need to be similar to rooms left behind, minibars need to be fully stocked and cleaners are forced to pay attention to detail. A traveller wouldn’t bother leaving if it meant the accommodation mirrored home; on the contrary, it would actually depress them.
Travellers will devour anything on the menu. Eat like the locals without asking for special exceptions to the food. The tourist asks a dozen questions, makes a handful of changes and still worries about the dish presented on the plate. Difference creates fear.
Remember, a traveller wants an experience that enriches their lives, whereas a tourist expects value that can be held or shown off.
The traveller is more of an individual; tourists hunt in packs.
If they are separated from the pack they feel vulnerable, alien and dwarfed. The arrogance towards locals soon diminishes as they crave the simplicity of home. The traveller thrives off beating across an unbeaten track, hoping to discover something few others have. A tourist sticks to the path.
The sad part is that tourists treat locals like a lesser being; travellers speak to locals to learn, to understand and to grow. I’ve seen tourists yell at hotel workers because a bed wasn’t made by a certain time, a meal was delivered late or they returned from getting a coffee and a cleaner was in their room. And it angers me.
If you’re so obsessed with home, why venture out in the first place?
It’s not a competition, a battle of who has the better pictures or who touched down in the most countries. Experience isn’t comparable, it’s an individual barometer.
And when a tourist and a traveller depart together on an adventure, there can be hell to pay. It doesn’t work. A friendship can be destroyed on that basis.
Here are some quick fire comparisons.
One dreams about the next trip; others are too aware of the end date.
One is at ease being solo; others are petrified by it.
One admires a scene; others pose in front of it.
One tries delicacies; others look out for the closest McDonald’s.
One embraces the new currency; others revert back to home dollars.
One picks up the language and gestures; others smile indifferently.
I could go on, and I must say that being a tourist isn’t all bad, because absorbing and allowing a fresh culture to take hold isn’t for everyone. When you look at your crumpled passport and all the stamps it contains within, you’ll know the tag that sits with you.
I learnt the line between the two words not only through travel, but through examples. Paradise isn’t something you find; it’s how you feel in a moment of your life where you’ve let home go.
‘We all travel thousands of miles just to watch TV and check in to somewhere with all the comforts of home, and you’ve got to ask yourself, what is the point of that?’
So I’ll leave you with a quote: ‘Tourists don’t know where they’ve been, travellers don’t know where they’re going.’ It’s simple, and sums my argument up in a dozen words.
I have hope.
‘Mine is a generation that circles the globe and searches for something we haven’t tried before. So never refuse an invitation, never resist the unfamiliar, never fail to be polite and never outstay the welcome. Just keep your mind open and suck in the experience. And if it hurts, you know what? It’s probably worth it.’
Chris Sutton
