I stood beside her, entranced by her as one is entranced by a trainwreck or a plane crash. I was confused by her words, shocked by her tone, and horrified by her behaviour. She was an American, and she was yelling…again. I was part of a group that had stopped at an important Muslim mausoleum in the Indian city of Allahabad. The woman I had been travelling with had, for the past week, bombarded our Indian guide with inane questions, insulted him with her boorish behaviour, and driven the entire group to madness with her attitude. At that moment her intent might have been innocent enough, as she had asked the curator whether she could access the second floor. “Stairs?” she asked at first, with the non-English speaking curator smiling politely. “Stairs,” she repeated a moment later, removing any semblance of a question, her tone becoming slightly annoyed. The curator smiled again, stating the name of the Muslim dignitary buried here. “Stairs!” she began to shout, becoming visibly agitated by the fact that she apparently found someone in the entire world that didn’t understand her mother tongue. The man began to point outside, clearly confused by the nature of her question. “WHERE… ARE… THE… STAIRS!” she yelled, purposefully annunciating every word in typical, offensive, North American style. It was at this moment that I intervened, gently suggested that perhaps the curator doesn’t understand the word ‘stairs’ and perhaps she should explore on her own….
A primary reason for my incessant globetrotting is to try to understand people different from myself, to learn from them and observe their day-to-day existence. The strange thing I have come to realize, however, is that the people that are the hardest to understand, the most difficult to learn from, and the most foreign to me, are travellers themselves. It is this difficulty with the understanding the traveller that has motivated me to categorize the various philosophies of travel that people—most often implicitly—employ as they roam the globe.
So, being greatly indebted to author Benjamin Hoff and his ingenious use of A.A. Milne’s Winnie the Pooh characters as vessels for communicating deep philosophical truths, I have decided to forgo the complex archetypes of academia, and embrace, instead, much simpler categories:
Eeyore Explorer: Anyone who is familiar with the A.A. Milne’s lovable characters, knows of the morose and taciturn donkey, Eeyore. He is, at his core, an insufferable killjoy, at each moment wondering what will go wrong in the next. At least the original Eeyore employed a certain dark humour with his melancholy musings, something clearly lost on modern Eeyore Explorers. What Explorers do have is fear, as they are scared of almost everything that makes travelling great. Small hitches in travel plans become world-shaking disasters, and experiences that push personal boundaries are avoided at all costs. Explorers mask their fear in a cloud of realism, they say, and state that there’s nothing they would learn about themselves through those experiences anyways, so why try? It is quite depressing to travel with an Eeyore Explorer, as they talk as if they’ve done everything, have nothing to learn, and know more then everyone else. Along your travels, if you happen to encounter such a beast, its better just to leave them to their own devices and set out in the opposite direction.
Tigger Traveler: The Tigger Traveler is the antithesis of the Eeyore Explorer. These sorts of travelers believe in everything and believe that everything is something they should be doing. Every experience, every ceremony, every item in the store, has great value for the Tigger Traveler, and every one of them has to be consumed and experienced as quickly as possible, in order to move to the next thing. The problem becomes, when Tiggers give meaning to everything, they are, in actuality, robbing everything of meaning. They move from experience to experience, seeking instant gratification. They want to know everything about everything, but end up knowing nothing about anything. They remain excited by the possibilities of what they might learn, but they never experience anything long enough to actually learn from it. While some might label these creatures as enthusiastic, self-motivated, and free spirited, they are, in actuality, trapped in a rudderless existence, enslaved by their ever-changing whims. It is exhausting to travel with a Tigger Traveler, as the constant inane chatter and vagabond wanderings are enough to send anyone packing. If you happen to encounter a Tigger Traveler bouncing down the road, lie down and play dead and hope they don’t make friends with you.
The Rabbit Roamer: The Rabbit Roamer is a close relative of the Tigger Traveler, but is only found in warm locales, near beaches and all-inclusive resorts. You see, the ironic thing about Rabbit Roamers is that they hate to roam. They are, in common parlance, task-oriented workaholics, and they are found on beaches because that is where they go to escape their day-to-day roaming. Back home, these creatures are found continuously moving from one project to another, constantly trying to keep up with the Joneses (I don’t really know who they are, but they run really fast). They travel only because they have to (to accumulate something for themselves) or in a vain attempt at relaxation, yet they never truly experience the world outside of themselves, and they don’t seem to want to. They fear the other, as in anything that is different from them, and mask their fear in a veil of cleverness and sarcasm. But don’t worry! Although the Rabbit is the most prolific type of traveler, if you steer clear of all-inclusive resorts, it is unlikely that you will ever encounter one abroad.
The Owl Observer: The Owl is an intellectual creature, and at first glance seem to make ideal travelling partners for those searching for answers to the various questions of life. While it is certainly true that Owl Observers do know quite a lot about a lot of things, their knowledge is often fragmented and compartmentalized, bits of obscure trivia used to impress audiences of people who don’t know better. Far from reflecting the attitude of the impassioned traveler, excited to encounter the world, Owl Observers are more concerned with how they are perceived then with what they can learn. They use flowery, intellectual language (sorry) that seems purposely designed to keep others from learning, and they present themselves as superior to those around them, especially in regards to the cultures they are visiting. They might be able to tell you how many years it took to build the Taj Mahal, how many tonnes of marble is used, and its astrological alignment, but they would never be able to tell you of the love that motivated Shah Jahan to build it. It is these essential experiences of travel that the Owl Observer misses completely. Travelling with an Owl Observer can be a humbling experience, as its easy to feel intimidated by the constant barrage of trivial facts, but have no fear, seeking out authentic travel experiences will teach you more than any Owl every could.
The Pooh Pilgrim: While Pooh Pilgrims may be intelligent, enthusiastic, curious, creatures, their primary motivation for travelling is none of these things. The Pilgrim is guided by a Taoist essence of travel, of water flowing wherever the contours of the land happen to take it; of seeing what’s around the next corner simply for curiosities sake. While plans are often worthwhile, the most authentic, world-changing, and memorable experiences come to the traveller when least expected. However, while Pooh Pilgrims remain open to these experiences, they are not, strange as it may seem, primarily motivated by them. In the words of Taoist philosopher Lao Tzu, “When you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you.” His point, it seems, is that before you can learn from others, you must discover yourself. The sort of rudderless journey of self-discovery that many take is not the task of the Pooh Pilgrim, and is better left to Tigger Travellers instead.
It is this type of travelling creature that I strive to be, one that seeks to appreciate the world for what it is, not what it can provide; seeks to learn from the world, and not to burden others with my global trivia; and embrace a spontaneous sense of adventure instead of thinking that I’ve done it all already. As Lao Tzu says, “True knowledge [of existence] can be gained by letting things go their own way. It can’t be gained by interfering.” So what kind of travelling animal are you?
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