Be A Tourist

A reclamation of wonder

I’ve spent the past month driving around the state of Florida - doing interviews for the podcast, visiting family and friends, and even taking my family on vacation for a week.

My aunt and uncle live on the east coast of Florida, and I was staying with them for a few days - relaxing and spending some quality time together. They took me out for a ride on their boat, and they brought me to a place where they knew there would be manatees.

I. Was. Thrilled.

There I am, standing on the boat, with my camera out, just trying to catch a glimpse of these ginormous animals that won’t hurt you, but are still intimidating just because of their sheer size.

They were very kind in my pursuit of a good picture or video for posterity, letting me take all the time I wanted.

At some point, I looked around, and because we were obviously not the only people out on a boat on a beautiful Saturday, I noticed that not one single person, besides me, was trying to capture a picture of a manatee.

To be honest, my first reaction was a bit of embarrassment.

“Oh my god, you look like such a tourist.”

My second thought made me laugh. This same aunt and uncle visit us in Pennsylvania frequently. And when they do, they will stop and marvel every time they see a deer - when we’re out, driving, or even just in the backyard. And every time they point it out to me, I just kind of shrug and smile, because seeing deer is so commonplace that it’s lost all sense of wonder; in fact, for many of us, it’s a nuisance. Deer eat your flowers and plants, they carry ticks, and you have to be careful when driving, because they may just pop out into the road.

My aunt shared in my laughter when I said to her, “this must be what you feel like when you see a deer.”

It stuck with me, that encounter. And I’ve been ruminating on it for a few days now. Because after my initial bout of self-consciousness, I was overwhelmed with the thought of, “so what?”.

So what if they think I’m a tourist? I am!

So what if they think I’m lame? Do I really care? Will it affect my life in any meaningful way?

No, it won’t.

So I happily took my videos and pictures, trying to capture the massive creatures who, even though I’m well aware are herbivores and pretty harmless, kind of terrify me.

That fear, by the way, was confirmed when, later, while kayaking with my cousin one lifted her kayak - and her by extension - in the air as he came up for a breath, nearly tipping her into the water.

But I digress…on our ride back to the dock, feeling the sun on my skin and the water splashing up as we were launched over the wakes left by larger boats, I felt an immense sense of gratitude. This was happiness, it was wonder. And I got to experience it.

I could experience it for the manatees and the pelicans, and the myriad other creatures and sights that are not native to my home. But why couldn’t I feel it for the deer? Wonder is a choice. I chose to notice, and to be in awe.

I chose to tune in to the world around me and pay attention.

A friend of mine has a phrase that I absolutely adore because it speaks to the fact that while we have very little control over our lives, we do have the ability to act and react to the world around us. And how we do that matters.

She says, “Noticing leads to wonder. Wonder leads to gratitude.”

So what does noticing, and wonder, and gratitude have to do with being a tourist? Well, the literal dictionary definition is - a person who is traveling, especially for pleasure.

The word tourist has a terrible connotation. My reaction to being thought a tourist was proof of that. God forbid someone know you’re not a local or an expert.

I know I for one have intentionally stayed away from things to avoid being a “tourist”. And that’s a shame, because the only person I potentially hurt in that instance is myself.

We’ve (especially frequent travelers) decided that there’s a moral high ground to not being a tourist.

Now, here’s my disclaimer. Because I can already hear the “buts”. Yes, there are people that specifically prey on non-locals. Yes, there are things that probably aren’t worth your time or money. Yes, just like with anything good, there will always be people that choose to ruin it.

But, in my experience, that’s not the majority.

And while bad will always exist, I do believe that there’s has been and will continue to be more good than bad in the world. But in order to know that, we have to step outside of ourselves, stop doom scrolling (looking at you, Jennifer), and choose wonder.

You know what’s embarrassing? The closest city to me is Philadelphia. Not a small city. And there is so much to see and do there; it’s full of art and culture and history. But I could probably give you more tips on visiting Amsterdam than Philadelphia. Because despite my proximity, I’ve never truly taken advantage of the access that I have.

There are so many things around me that I ignore every day, because I get caught up in the slog of work, and life, and things that probably aren’t all that important in the grand scheme. We all do, I think it’s probably part of the human condition.

But we also have the option to choose.

It’s not necessarily easy. It takes intention, and discipline. And failure is imminent. But perfection isn’t the goal. In fact, I’d argue that chasing perfection is a symptom of our lack of wonder.

As I’m writing this, I’m still on the road. I’m in new places, experiencing new things. It’s pretty easy to tap into that wonder right now. But I’m going home soon. I know that my mindset is going to be different, it has to be, I have different responsibilities and expectations at home. But it doesn’t mean that I can’t choose to notice, and wonder, and be grateful.

I’m sure I’ll fail daily. I’m sure I’ll get caught up in things that don’t matter. I’m sure I’ll forget to notice.

But that’s okay. Purpose over perfection, always.

And now, every time I see a deer (or six, as is often the case) it will be a symbol of that purpose; a gifted reminder that time passes swiftly, and that if we fail to wonder, if we fail to find pleasure in what and who surrounds us, if we fail to be tourists in our own lives - whether traveling to our local coffee shop or hopping a plane to our dream destination - we miss out. We miss connection, and beauty, and all of the things that truly matter.

So here’s to the deer. May they be an ever present symbol of hope and of gratitude.

And now I have to ask…what’s your deer?

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