by Alan Leftridge
“From where are you moving?” the bank officer asked while fumbling with papers. Her desk nameplate said grace.
“Ohio.”
“What part?”
“North of Cincinnati, the town of Oxford.”
“Oh…I’ve never been to Ohio. In fact, the farther east I have been is to Redding [150 miles away] to visit my brother.”
Grace paused to think while biting on her lower lip. After several long, drawn-out moments she smiled, “And the farthest south I’ve been is to go shopping in Santa Rosa [220 miles away]. Many times, actually, during the holiday seasons.”
Another pause, and more thinking as she collected her thoughts, her eyes fixed on some object on the wall across the lobby. “I went north to Crescent City [75 miles away] for vacation once.”
Then with a big grin, “And, I’ve been to the ocean [west two miles away] several times…mostly when I was a child, though.”
She must have read my dismayed look, and continued, “Traveling has not been that important to me, I suppose. All my life I’ve been content to stay around home here in northern California. Maybe when I retire I’ll get the urge. Now how much do you want to deposit into your new checking account?”
It may be hard to believe the truth of this story during the height of the tourist season when the highways are congested, the accommodations are jam-packed, the restaurants are crowded, and long lines form at park entrance kiosks. It seems that everyone must be traveling. I learned many years ago a fact that holds true today: Most people stay close to home and don’t explore the world around them.
A friend recounts a story of an elder Hawaiian man he met near Waialua Bay on Oahu. The man offered that he had never in his 70 years been to the other side of the island. When asked why not, he replied, “Why would I? Everything I need or want is here.” The stories of Grace and the Hawaiian reinforce the impression that some people choose not to travel for leisure.
A similar story comes to mind about the day my fourth-grade class visited the Kansas City Museum. Our teacher, Mrs. Sprague, gathered us on the front steps and with a wave of her hand directed our attention to the residence across the street.
“The neighbor who lives in that house has resided there all of her life, and she has never visited this museum.” I don’t know why she told us that or how she knew that information, but that declaration, true or otherwise, affected me ever after. I decided I was not going to be like that neighbor; I was going to experience what was around me and, if possible, go to places far, far away.
You may have heard the saying, “Everybody hates a tourist.” Some critics declare that destination-oriented travelers do not want to take the time to enjoy the ambiance of the places they are passing through. It’s as if they are trying to get someplace else that they think is going to be more enjoyable. Maybe it’s because they fear that somewhere, at that moment, somebody is having more fun than they are, and they must get to their destination in order to start enjoying themselves, as well.
We often malign tourists. The irony is that all of us are tourists outside the immediate boundaries of our own lives. Even when we travel for leisure, we cannot help but speculate how the locals manage. (How do these people make a living? What do they do for fun? Why would anyone want to live here?) We try to get a taste of local life. Although we will never know what it is like to live in these places, our world is enlarged by the brief encounters. Travel expands our circle of understanding, opportunities for enlightenment, and compassion for others. We return home re-created.
Acknowledging the benefits of our own leisure travel experiences should help us temper any antipathy we may have towards other tourists. They may think they are merely traveling through communities seeking their leisure destination, but in a real sense they cannot help but be changed by the totality of the experience.
Not long ago, while navigating the sidewalks of the Arcata city plaza, I was caught with, “Well, hello there!” directed at me. It was Grace. I had not seen her since the bank many years before. A gleeful expression beamed from her face as she waved a piece of paper. “It’s my AAA travel itinerary,” she declared. “I am retired and I am going to see the rest of the world. I may even tour the wonders of Ohio.”
Alan Leftridge is a contract interpretive trainer, visitor services trainer, and interpretive writer based out of the Swan Valley of Montana. Contact him at www.leftridge.com.
