Tag: travel

The Art of Travel

Unlike fine wine, my father travelled well.  He loved to go places; the man had road trip imprinted in his DNA.  To him, vacations were expeditions and despite carrying a bunch of kids with him, dad always managed to have a good time.  My father didn’t make the mistake that most people do when they go on vacation; he never stepped out of character.  Dad understood that the one inescapable fact about being a tourist is you are one.

There’s a common misconception that, in order to have a kick-ass vacation, tourists must somehow seamlessly disappear into the local culture – anything less is not worth the brag.  First of all, this is false; secondly, it’s impossible.  No matter what you do, when you finally hit the sightseeing streets of wherever you’re going — whether London, England or Rubberboot, Romania — everybody but you knows you’re a tourist.  You don’t even have to open your mouth.  Standing on the corner or sipping in a cafe, your clothes are different, your body language is odd, you smell funny and you’re carrying way too much stuff.  Actually, that’s the biggest giveaway.  People on vacation always haul all their goodies around with them.  You might not be wearing a Hawaiian shirt or have a cliché camera hanging around your neck, but if you’re dragging a bag the size of Wisconsin, everybody knows you’re not from around there.  (Ask any local thief.)

However, just because you’re a tourist doesn’t mean you can’t get past the typical tourist experience.  It’s a lot easier than spending your time trying to blend in.

First, lose the bag!  Unless you’re backpacking in Patagonia, you really don’t need all that stuff.  Most people who lug their crap from the Louvre to the Loire Valley never use half of it.  If you simply can’t live without two litres of bug spray, so be it, but expect to be a target for gypsies, tramps and thieves and to pay premium prices for anything that isn’t clearly marked.

Second, find a bar or cafe and go there at about the same time every day for a beverage (adult or otherwise.)  They’re great for planning your day in the morning or doing a post-mortem at night.   More importantly, since most tourists don’t do this, after about the third day, the owner or staff will take custody of you.  You will become their tourist.  They’ll take a personal interest in the good time you’re having in their town.  This works best in smaller places, but it happens everywhere.  Remember, the local folks can tell you more about where they live than twelve travel agents combined.  These are the people who know where the puppet shows are and who has the best fish.  They also have friends, aunts and cousins who sing in the local band or make jewelry or might be convinced to take you up-river.  Not to brag, but I’ve been invited to a French birthday party, got a personalized tour of the cliffs of Cornwall, sung “Hasta Siempre” on stage in Havana and danced with a for real Polynesian princess in a South Seas thunderstorm — all because I like a second cup of coffee in the morning.

Third, never comparison shop between home and away.  That’s what gives tourists a bad name.  Always remember you are just as exotic to the people you meet on vacation as they are to you.  I once got into a Franglais conversation with a guy in Paris about the amount of doggie do-do there was in the streets (at that time, there was plenty.)  He was absolutely fascinated that North Americans clean up after their dogs.  To him, it was the oddest thing for people to willingly pick up dog poop and take it home with them, and he asked me quite seriously if we did the same thing with cats.  I don’t think I had an answer for him.  My point is, when in Rome don’t start telling the Romans how they do business in Nebraska; it just sounds funny.

Finally, but most importantly, if you’re not a jerk in your home town don’t become one on vacation.  Remember the average shopkeeper in Dakar is no different from the one in Detroit.  They both have their own set of problems.  Yes, definitely complain if you’re getting scammed, but otherwise go with what you got.  Keep in mind that you were the one who chose to travel in the broil of August.  You were the one who overloaded the luggage, flew economy to save money and picked the bed and breakfast with the bathroom down the hall.  If your feet are sore, get off them.  If the pastry tastes like glue, it probably is.  And try as they might, the tour guide can’t make the whales jump, no matter what the brochure says.  Believe me — and I have it on good authority from my dad — if you don’t act like an obnoxious tourist, you won’t be treated like one, and you’ll have way better stories to brag about when you get home.

Travellers’ Advisory

Every Canadian over the age of 12 has heard this story.  It’s a rite of passage in Canada, like going to the bar the first time (legally) or getting your driver’s license.  It’s one of the things that binds us together as Canadians — like hockey and godawful cold.  Unfortunately, it’s rapidly becoming a damn lie.  I’ve heard the story hundreds of times; so have you, and it has a million variations.  Essentially, it’s this: a Canadian returns from a trip that required a passport.  They unpack their clothes, show you the flotilla of pictures and then say something like,

“We had a great time.  You’ve got to go.  The people were just wonderful.  They were a little grumpy at first, but once they found out we were Canadians, [knowing pause] they couldn’t have been nicer.”  Everybody agrees, and somebody passes the dip.

What a crock!  This may have been true back when the Travelocity Gnome was a baby, but these days, in the realm of mythology, this ranks right up there with unicorns.  Canadian tourists are becoming obnoxious – I can’t state it any plainer.  We’ve been living on our rep for years, and even that’s wearing thin.  Back in the day, we pranced around the world content in the knowledge that our maple leaf would protect us from being mistaken for Americans, and that was good enough.  Our cup of smug overflowed every time we didn’t act as jerky as our American cousins.  The legend grew in the 10 provinces that people liked us best because we treated foreigners nicely – in their own country.

Now, I’m not saying Americans have started minding their manners; I’m saying we’ve forgotten ours.  Over the last decade, I have personally witnessed an ever-widening circle of such outrageous acts of rude as to make a crack addict blush — and I don’t travel much.  The sordid details run to volumes, so let me just hit the low points.  I’ve seen a man loudly explaining the stupidity of Castro’s police state to a couple of bartenders – and half the bar – in Havana, Cuba.  In Mexico, I watched a woman negotiate the price of a bracelet in English while her husband gave the rest of the tour a detailed play-by-play as if the shopkeeper was invisible.  I’ve seen a woman in a halter top and short shorts slide her chubby little bum over the barricade inside a cathedral in France so she could get a better picture of the people praying.    Also in France, three women from Ontario, would finish their breakfast, then go back to the buffet and load enough ham, bread and cheese into their purses to feed Camp Kandahar.  These chicks were notorious; we called them the “Je m’appelle Kathys,” and when they weren’t pilfering croissants, they were showing off their French 101 by complaining.  I think the desk clerks had a standing bet every morning on which one would start beaking first.  I’m not sure, but I saw money change hands.  They weren’t backpacking college kids, either, but professional women of an age who should have known better.

Those are just a few examples, but the granddaddy of them all (so far) happened in Mexico.  A particularly drunken crew of Canucks went marauding across the beaches of the Mayan Riviera south of Cancun.  By the time they were finished, the local police had been called in once, the Federales twice, and the all-inclusive resort where they were staying refused to serve them.  To show their disdain for the local custom of sobriety, they climbed to the top of the pyramid at Chichen Itza, proudly waved the flag, dropped their pants, and took turns taking pictures.   For those unfamiliar with Chichen Itza, it’s an ancient Mayan city in the Yucatan and a Unesco Heritage Site.  It is also the second most visited archaeological location in Mexico.  Their audience was huge.  Several other Canadians in the area, including me, began telling people we were from Seattle.  Ironic isn’t it?

Canada - Designated Area

Cheap airfares and a renewed sense of patriotism have combined with this super myth that Canadians are automatically liked wherever they go: it’s a perfect storm.  We’ve become loud and proud, but we still cling to the belief that everybody loves us just because we’re Canadian.  Then, back home we congratulate each other on the accomplishment – reinforcing the myth.

Here’s a news flash: you’re a tourist, one of many.  The people in the places you go to can’t complain.  They have to put up with you because their livelihood depends on it.  I don’t care how quaint the village is or how close you get to the local culture, those folks have to shut-up and take it or they might be out of a job.  Of course they smile; they’re in the service industry.  Whether they think you’re a nitwit or not, depends entirely on your behaviour.  So when you’re planning this year’s winter get-away to the fun and sun, here are a few tips that will make everybody’s life a little easier.

1 – When you’re sitting around the bed and breakfast complaining about the hired help, you need to remember two things: 1) the person standing there probably speaks English and 2) she’s not deaf.

2 – Tim Horton’s is a local establishment, so when you go to a busy restaurant, order a Double-double and laugh like you’ve been possessed by demons, the natives don’t get the joke — no matter how many times you repeat it.

3 – While it’s true that Canadian liquor laws were written in the 12th century, other countries are different.  You don’t have to drink it all.  They’re not going to take it away.

4 – People around the world may be poor and/or downtrodden by our standards, but you don’t have to point it out to them.  It’s embarrassing.

5 – Don’t tip in Canadian money – it’s not cute.

6 – Yes, swearing is de rigueur in Canadian society, but in other parts of the world, those colourful verbs, nouns and adjectives are considered crude — especially when you shout them in public places.

7 – Keep your clothes on.

8 – Whereas bargaining is part of some local cultures arguing over the price is not.  Know the difference.

9 – Just because you’re not particularly religious, other people might be, and those buildings are places of worship; show some respect.

10 – Okay, okay, okay, you’re not American.  They get it.

Finally, there’s one thing that would make me particularly happy.   If you absolutely insist on acting like a jackass, leave our flag at home.