Don't be a Tourist, Be a Traveler

First of all, the internet connection I have right now isn't letting me upload any pictures. There aren't really any good ones to post anyway. If the weather is nice tomorrow, I should have a handful of pretty shots.

Before I get to the juicy meat of my deep argument of the day, a couple notes of interest:
I'm in a hostel in beautiful Connemara. There are lots of Swedes and Germans and Frenchies here.
It's raining a ton, so I can't have fun nature time outside.
My shoes, socks, and feet smell horrible thanks to my encounter with bog water.
This webpage for my blog is coming up in German right now. I am utterly confused. It's pretty funny, but I don't know enough German to navigate the menus and change language options if there are any. And by not enough German, I mean that I don't know any whatsoever.
I'm loving the emails and facebook messages people are sending me. Although the Swedish dude I'll be sharing a room with tonight looks pretty cuddly, these bits of love are enough of an emotional teddy bear to keep me from resorting to extreme measures.

Here's my rant I wrote last night:
A week or so before Commencement and my departure for this trip, I drank a fateful bottle of Magic Hat #9. As many of you know, Magic Hat bottle caps have little proverbs on their bottom sides. Some are meaningful; others are goofy rhymes that are absolutely inane. Well, this particular bottle had a phrase that I thought was more than fitting:

“Don’t be a tourist. Be a traveler.”

I think that is the perfect motto not just for people doing my job but also for any intrepid young individual in a foreign place (i.e. Pablo on his Asian trip--God save his soul). Essentially, the tourist is the shamelessly loud one clicking the shutter on his camera as fast he can. He sees local people, places, and customs as specimens to be examined and gawked at. A traveler tries best he can to not simply enjoy a culture but to participate in it. My journey so far has taken me to a variety of towns and regions of natural beauty. Some are clearly for tourists, others for travelers. Let’s try to dissect this dichotomy.

First, places that are touristy generally attract visitors for a reason. They are famous landmarks or places with pleasant establishments at which to dine and stay. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that. However, it is the addition of tourists that then detracts from the initial attraction’s attractiveness. Logical enough. We’ve all been frustrated at seeing the Eiffel Tower or Athens or Venice, etc. Those places are awesome, but would be much better if you were the only foreigner visiting so you could appreciate them in their natural context without an environment of non-locals. “Hey Betty! BETTY!!! Get the kids together and I’ll take a picture of you in front of the cute leprechaun! Oh my God! Sorry! You’re not a leprechaun?!? But you sound just like one! Ok, family, let’s go find a four-leafed clover and kiss the Blarney Stone! HA! Can you believe they call freedom fries 'chips' here?!?” The importance of genuine environments elevates other, less absolutely impressive, areas to be just as, if not more, enjoyable than the popular draws. There’s something special about being one of only a few people taking in the special essence of a place.

Behavior is highly significant in this tourist/traveler distinction. I can’t do anything about my physical traits. Irish people can look at me and be pretty confident that I am not of Irish heritage. With the clothing that I brought, my tan complexion, and my stubble, I might be mistaken for Spanish or Eastern or Southern European, but not Irish. My Irish accent is pretty good for short exchanges, so I’ve fooled a couple people, but if I have a conversation with someone they will quickly know that I’m from the States. Basically, I stick out like a sore thumb in such a homogenous society. Trust me, there are few areas in the world as homogenous as western Ireland. That being said, a good traveler will walk into the local pub (not the shiny one smack in the middle of town), ask for a pint, and either mind his own business or chat with whomever is there. Tourists stick out more than I ever could because they form a little bubble around themselves. They do not subtly ease into local haunts; they bust in, stare around, take an hour to figure out what they want to drink, talk only to each other, and have this giddy expression like they can’t believe they’re mingling with REAL Irish people. They’ve come to see the spectacle of Ireland, not participate in it.

Anyway, that’s all fairly logical. I just felt I’d bring it up because I was in a famous pub the other night and there were more 60- and 70-year-old Americans than Irish citizens. They were being loud and obnoxious. I downed my Guinness and went next door and watched a soccer game on TV with a bunch of local guys my age. It was much better. And the thing is that residents, no matter where you go, all appreciate the traveler and universally despise the tourist (unless they’re making money off the tourists). The guys I was with loved the fact that I was an American who decided to unobtrusively slide in with them at the bar and care about a soccer game. Of course, it’s easier when you’re alone like me. Sizes of groups make a difference. I’m already drawing a blank on my psychology terms...heuristics! One or two people equal traveler status. The more that are in a group, the more they are pigeonholed into tourist status. Think about Harvard--huge group of Asians with cameras around their necks. Asians and cameras are not uncommon at Harvard, but the fact that they are all huddled together at the John Harvard statue tips us off that they don’t belong there. Also, who eats dinner at John Harvard’s or Bartley’s? Tourists, that’s who. I’ve gone off on a tangent because I don’t want to work on editing maps for this week. I should have stopped a long time ago.

Moral of the story:
Statistics. If you drink a lot of Magic Hat #9 or eat a lot of fortune cookies or read your horoscope everyday, you will eventually get a message that means something to you.

Day: 11
Guinness: 13