Think Like a Tourist

For the #WriteHere prompt, voyages.

It’s no surprise that we’re most drawn to wanderlust when some other aspect of our lives seems more confined. For millions of people, this is the first year they’ve been able to explore the world after it’s been shrunk by the pandemic. And that puts a tremendous pressure on it. We have new hopes, barely intelligible, that not even the perfect trip could satisfy.

During my recent holiday with my partner, I found myself feeling that we needed to repeat, revise, and perfect our trip even as we were taking it. As if any idle minute was stolen from our pandemic selves. That we were failing to live up to the promise of freedom.

Expectations seem the antithesis of travel. My favorite memories have always been un-predicted discoveries: Finding Spinalonga in Crete — once a leper colony — to have all the charm and beauty of the rest of Greece, the traces of its past sorrow almost unintelligible. Realizing the beauty of Krakow’s architecture, on an autumn school trip we expected to be cold and sombre. Spending days in the December sun in Murcia, Spain. No itinerary except co-existing with a cherished friend in a new place.

That’s the main reason why, when thinking of ‘voyages,’ no one travel tip or memorable trip crossed my mind. So, I thought of thinking like a tourist. Of the ways I grew up jerry-rigging adventure from well-worn tracks during free weekends and school holidays. The perspectives of travel we pick up when we can, even when we’re stuck in the same place.

How to think like a tourist

• Take the day to yourself (or even the moment.)

This is always easier to do when the sun is shining. If you shed the daily chores and worries that interweave with the place you live, you can look deeper into it. Give yourself as much permission to relax as you would during a day spent at the poolside. Lean into what re-charges you, whether actively exploring, or just savouring your surroundings. Focusing on self-care takes the pressure off the place itself. It only needs to be the backdrop to your own curated happiness.

• Be open to ‘stumbling upon’ things

This might be more or less difficult, depending on what’s on offer where you live. I’m very lucky that in Norwich, there always seems to be some new store or restaurant opening, or somewhere revitalising itself. And lots of modest events strung through the city centre — from arts fairs held inside small churches, to a trail of live music. Even so, most places have some opportunity to be open to the unusual. Or to look at the usual more precisely, so it reveals something new. You might even stop to read a plaque that sits on a building that you often walk past. Put a little history in your pocket as you go about your day.

• Look out for your fellow travellers

Personally, people-watching brings me a similar sense of connectedness as travel. Overhearing conversations, watching the patchwork of ways that people make their way through your town, gives you a little insight into universal-human culture. Look for the oldest house you can identify. And marvel at how many generations, how many lives, have walked right past it. Their footsteps years beneath your own.