| This page is not linked to by the rest of the site. For more info on how to carry Travelin' Light in your publication click HERE. |
KELSEY Timmerman
Travelin' Light
kelsey@travelin-light.com
Travelin' Light
kelsey@travelin-light.com
The Great Touron King
In the land of tourons, I am
the Great Touron King.
A touron is one part eager
tourist and one part
well-meaning moron. You
yourself have likely been a
touron at one time or another.
the Great Touron King.
A touron is one part eager
tourist and one part
well-meaning moron. You
yourself have likely been a
touron at one time or another.
(Please click on cartoon to see it in high resolution)
Whether it is a few frames at the local bowling
alley or visiting a Buddhist monastery, I’m out
of my element.
Some like to wax poetic about being a
“traveler” while condemning the lack of
cultural sensitivity of a “tourist.” They claim
that a traveler is in tune with the local way of
life and moves through foreign environments
with great savvy. They do not taint or
influence the places they visit and easily
become part of the ebb and flow of daily life.
In turn, a tourist is a mumbling buffoon who
forces their culture upon everyone around
them, leaving a wake of disbelief and anger in
their path.
It’s impossible to leave our cultural baggage at
the border of a foreign land or experience.
When it comes down to it we are all tourons.
Travel is humbling, a lesson in humility learned
slowly through each finger pointed, glance
shot, and laugh guffawed in our direction.
What makes me the Great Touron King? I
grew up in small town Ohio, far from any
ocean or anything resembling a hill, where
there was little to no diversity in the people or
the landscape. There is a short list of things
that don’t amaze me: farmers in over-alls,
tractors, pigs, cows, chickens, flat fields, and
manure (especially manure). Wherever I go
things strike me as new and exciting. In the
past few years I have stepped foot into nearly
30 nations and I have yet to feel like a
“traveler.” I am hopeless to be savvy, as I
haplessly travel.
Through this column I hope to share with you
my experiences in the many places where I am
a touron, whether it is Key West, Kosovo, or
Kathmandu, Castle Dracula in Romania or a
step-aerobics class in Ohio. Feel free to laugh,
sympathize, or learn from my adventures and
misadventures, because I have.
alley or visiting a Buddhist monastery, I’m out
of my element.
Some like to wax poetic about being a
“traveler” while condemning the lack of
cultural sensitivity of a “tourist.” They claim
that a traveler is in tune with the local way of
life and moves through foreign environments
with great savvy. They do not taint or
influence the places they visit and easily
become part of the ebb and flow of daily life.
In turn, a tourist is a mumbling buffoon who
forces their culture upon everyone around
them, leaving a wake of disbelief and anger in
their path.
It’s impossible to leave our cultural baggage at
the border of a foreign land or experience.
When it comes down to it we are all tourons.
Travel is humbling, a lesson in humility learned
slowly through each finger pointed, glance
shot, and laugh guffawed in our direction.
What makes me the Great Touron King? I
grew up in small town Ohio, far from any
ocean or anything resembling a hill, where
there was little to no diversity in the people or
the landscape. There is a short list of things
that don’t amaze me: farmers in over-alls,
tractors, pigs, cows, chickens, flat fields, and
manure (especially manure). Wherever I go
things strike me as new and exciting. In the
past few years I have stepped foot into nearly
30 nations and I have yet to feel like a
“traveler.” I am hopeless to be savvy, as I
haplessly travel.
Through this column I hope to share with you
my experiences in the many places where I am
a touron, whether it is Key West, Kosovo, or
Kathmandu, Castle Dracula in Romania or a
step-aerobics class in Ohio. Feel free to laugh,
sympathize, or learn from my adventures and
misadventures, because I have.
| If you’ve ever… …set out on a trip over 2 weeks long with 3 pair of underwear… …thought visiting a nude beach would be a good idea… …spent an entire flight with your knee jammed into the chair in front of you to keep a six year old from reclining… … been to a Drag Show with your mother… …been in a room full of people where You were the only one not staring at YOU… …stepped out your front door and made a complete fool of yourself… …you might be a Touron. Faced with a deluge of new sites, smells, sounds, and behaviors, a tourist turns touron because of an enhanced curiosity and innocent unawareness. The farther behind we leave the familiar, the more touronic we become. On one occasion in Thailand, I managed to offend an entire busload of locals. In the previous few months I had walked many miles through the mud of trails and the filth of city streets wearing my sandals. They progressively attained a sour stench strong enough to keep Thai sidewalk merchants at bay. Hoping to avoid assaulting the olfactory senses of my co-riders, I took off my sandals and placed them in my luggage above. When I sat back down I noticed and felt many sets of eyes turned in my direction. I knew I had crossed a line, but did not realize when or how. |
Cartoon by Geoff Hassing
Finally, my neighbor, through a series of grunts
and gestures, told me to bring my shoes back
down from the luggage rack. Apparently, things
associated with feet are profane and should never
be above one’s head. I complied with the social
rule and removed my sandals from the rack. At
our meal stop, I found myself passing rice and
unfamiliar entrees with a table of my forgiving co-
riders. We all laughed as various degrees of Thai
spice twisted and distorted my face. I parted
with my new found friends at the end of the ten-
hour trip, through silent, friendly smiles and
handshakes.
The village idiot rarely lacks friends.
It takes a lot of courage to step out of your
comfort zone and enter a world with which you
are totally unfamiliar. This world doesn’t have to
be another country or continent. I can leave my
house right now and within minutes be out of my
comfort zone and in the Land of Tourons.
and gestures, told me to bring my shoes back
down from the luggage rack. Apparently, things
associated with feet are profane and should never
be above one’s head. I complied with the social
rule and removed my sandals from the rack. At
our meal stop, I found myself passing rice and
unfamiliar entrees with a table of my forgiving co-
riders. We all laughed as various degrees of Thai
spice twisted and distorted my face. I parted
with my new found friends at the end of the ten-
hour trip, through silent, friendly smiles and
handshakes.
The village idiot rarely lacks friends.
It takes a lot of courage to step out of your
comfort zone and enter a world with which you
are totally unfamiliar. This world doesn’t have to
be another country or continent. I can leave my
house right now and within minutes be out of my
comfort zone and in the Land of Tourons.