Straying from the Asphalt

We have now passed through many tourist destinations of the world: The National Gallery in Washington D.C., USA; The Lucy Museum in Changsha, China; elaborate temples and parks in Bankok, Thailand; rock hewn churches and ancient lakes in Ethiopia; a slave fort museum in Cape Coast, Ghana; the Pyramids and Egyptian Museum in Cairo, Egypt; and ancient Roman ruins in Turkey.

We are tourists, oh yes we are.

Much as we like to put ourselves in a different category and call our travels “off the beaten path,” you will sometimes find us alongside the masses. It is fairly difficult for us to place ourselves so fully and intentionally on a path shared by so many people. But we go, for there is something to be said for a site or object that attracts tourists from all of the world: it is most likely remarkable and exciting and absolutely worth seeing.

There are extreme differences between travelers, and visiting tourist destinations highlights and defines these differences in new ways. We see tour groups and independent tourists, guides and translators, drivers and hotel touts, tour packages and buses. We see all different nationalities and hear all varieties of language being spoken.

And to be honest, we are terribly critical of tour groups. We poke unnecessary fun as the accessories of tour groups. Whether matching water bottles or baseball hats or t-shirts or stickers, they bear the club insignia with some sense of pride. I guess that in a foreign land, it feels good to belong to something.

I was stunned by the silent tour groups shuffling through the Egyptian Museum in Cairo. Each member of the tour had a headset through which they could hear the voice of their tour guide, standing tens of heads away. Arms folded, faces dour, they all looked bored to death. It was easy to avoid these groups for they all moved as a great amoeba; stragglers were nonexistent.

A few days ago, caught in the tentacles of the tourist-driven Grand Bazaar in Istanbul, we burst (rather frantically) out into the normalness of a city street. There we saw the member of a tour group, a bright number 3 blazing on her shirt, obviously separated from her herd. We were delighted to see that her split was unquestionably intentional as she wandered the street with ease and comfort and interest.

In Ethiopia we saw tour buses speeding through the scorching desert sun of Ethiopia, the windows filled with pasty tourists cloaked in heavy sweaters to combat the icy bus air-conditioning. Tourism in Ethiopia was usually a packaged deal: tour and guide and hotel and shopping were all wrapped together, with comfortable shuttle buses ferrying to and fro.

While in Egypt, we visited the pyramids at Giza. We took the Cairo metro out to Giza Station, then caught a local bus, and walked the rest of the way. Our early morning efforts were rewarded when we arrived as the gates were being opened. However, the tour buses moved quickly through the site and soon left us in the dust. I was frantically urging Nathan along, “come on! We have to get ahead of all of these people!” I probably would have been running had he not been with me. But in fact, we were surprised not to have much interference from the tour groups at all. You might have been amazed by the lack of other people in our photos from the Pyramids. Want to know our trick? We strayed from the asphalt. Most other visitors to the pyramids drive from site to site in the tour bus, briefly alighting at each stop. We trucked through the entire place in flipflops, though heat and wind and dust. And it was magnificent; we felt like explorers.

While pausing at the ancient theater at Termessos, Turkey, we were joined at the space by a group of ten or so middle-aged American tourists. They were boisterous in their excitement, exclaiming with joy and amazement. We watched them, eating our bread and cheese and tomato sandwiches, comfortable in our distance. Though many members of the group departed after a few minutes, a trio of three woman dismissed the urgings of their guide and steadfastly refused to leave. “You can go ahead, we aren’t leaving yet. We have some chanting to do.“ The tour guide, slightly bemused, left them to their presumed insanity, urging them to catch up soon. The ladies sat together, chatting and laughing for a short while. Then they collected themselves and uttered harmonic chants into the acoustical vastness of the ancient theater placed high up on a mountain. I truly respected their intentions and appreciations of the space and the moment.

The truth is, while I criticize tourists and tour groups, there are always anomalies. And isn’t going to the Egyptian Museum with a tour better than never going at all? I think so. And I must give credit to all travelers, regardless of their style. For it takes work and effort and bravery to embark out into the world, outside of your comfort zone, regardless of the path.

So cheers to the travelers of the world, even though my path takes me off the asphalt.