by Are you a traveller or a tourist? It is a question people can discuss for an astonishing length of time, usually while sitting somewhere that sells coffee to both. I have taken enough trips to suspect the distinction becomes much less important when everyone is hungry, lost or waiting for the same delayed flight.
Then there is the “profi traveller”—a label I once heard from a Swiss fellow whose explanation seemed to involve rather a lot of socialising. I never quite worked out the professional qualification. Perhaps there was a certificate, but nobody offered to show it to me.
Meet Our Highly Unscientific Cast
The following characters are affectionate caricatures, with imaginary mottos. If you recognise yourself, there is no need to hand in your passport.
The Tourist
Camera ready, guidebook consulted and souvenir budget under constant review. The tourist likes to know what the famous building is called, when it opens and where the toilets are. These are not unreasonable interests.
Imaginary motto: “I have come all this way. Of course I want the photograph.”
The tourist may follow a guide, wear the loud shirt and buy the fridge magnet. I am in no position to judge the shirt. My own Waikiki memories involve a Magnum-style Hawaiian shirt, and I remain quite happy about it.
The Traveller
The traveller would prefer not to be confused with the tourist, despite having arrived on the same plane. The backpack is smaller, the route more flexible and the café must be somewhere a guidebook has not yet discovered. Ideally, it should also have good coffee and Wi-Fi.
Imaginary motto: “I am not lost. I am allowing the place to reveal itself.”
Sometimes that approach produces a wonderful afternoon. Sometimes it produces a very long walk to somewhere that is closed. Both experiences may later be described as getting off the beaten track.
The Profi Traveller
The profi traveller has technical equipment, considerable confidence and a full social programme. Nobody is entirely sure what makes the travelling professional, but there is always a new person to meet and another evening to organise.
Imaginary motto: “The itinerary is flexible. My networking schedule is not.”
Perhaps the real qualification is being able to turn a five-minute conversation into plans for the rest of the night. I can respect the energy. These days, I may also want to know whether the evening includes somewhere to sit.
The Packing Test
The tourist brings spare clothes. The traveller explains why spare clothes are unnecessary. The profi traveller seems to have packed a charger and enough confidence for three people.
Meanwhile, I am still negotiating with my own suitcase. My attempts at travelling light have supplied enough material to keep me modest.
A Famous Sight Is Still Allowed to Be Good
There is something funny about travelling halfway around the world and then worrying that enjoying a well-known place will damage your credentials. Sometimes a landmark is popular because it is extraordinary. Sometimes a quiet side street is lovely. We are allowed to appreciate both without changing teams.
So Who Wins?
Nobody needs to. We all take turns: following a recommendation, wandering without a plan, buying something unnecessary and deciding that a comfortable hotel is suddenly an excellent idea.
I care more about how we behave than which label we choose. Respect the people who live there, remember that somebody’s neighbourhood is not a stage set, and keep enough humour to laugh at yourself. Especially if you are wearing the shirt.
Have you met a particularly memorable travel character—or caught yourself becoming one? I would love to hear the story.
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