Funny how words can become stigmas; take the word tourist. Somewhere along the line this harmless word became derisive. We are all afraid of looking like a tourist when we travel, as though being a tourist is somehow offensive. I beg to differ.

I grew up in a tourist town, Las Vegas, so I know from tourists and I rather like them. Honestly, I like being one!

Give me a good gift shop, hand me that audio tour, or show me that famous site and I am a happy woman. Sure, I draw the line at, well, really long lines; but by and large I am on board with the whole tourism thing.

The Stigma of Being a Tourist

I am going rant a bit about those glossy travel magazines that have oodles of articles on how to not look like a tourist in whatever city they are on about this week. It seems there are few fates worse than being pegged as one of those people.

One recently used the term ‘hapless’ in regards to being a tourist; which frankly I found odd, considering what the word means (unfortunate, luckless). Sorry, snooty magazine writer; if I’m visiting Rome or Paris or Berlin or Tokyo or Buenos Aires I consider myself anything but hapless.

More baffling to me is a magazine that is all about travel wants to try to make us feel bad about traveling. I refuse to do that. Instead, I am going to continue to let my freak flag fly.

Let me tell you a story

I was in Dublin and I had spent two days doing day trips that were just awesome (thanks, Over the Top Tours!).  This alone could qualify as a tourist activity as I had gone into and iron age tomb, stood in front of a magnificent Celtic Cross in the middle of a misty field – one that anywhere else in the world would have been plucked and tucked into a museum. I had seen magnificent vistas and incredible ruins. It was great.

Now I had a day in Dublin. Just me. I was headed to Edinburgh in the morning and realized that I hadn’t really just wandered Dublin. Anyone who reads this blog knows that I am a big fan of wandering. And so I did.

It was a lovely day; I followed a random street here and there, enjoying the sunshine after a few days of mostly damp weather. I found myself crossing the James Joyce bridge, one of many bridges spanning the Liffey. Dublin is a literary town, and it takes this legacy seriously, providing tourists with lots of quotes on the sides of buildings

Once across the bridge I found myself in an area that seemed to be mostly warehouses, light industrial with a few apartment blocks. And then I saw a sign that said Guinness. Ah, yes. Dublin is where Guinness comes from.

Guinness Storehouse – Tourist Extravaganza

I followed the signs to the Guinness Storehouse, as it is called. This place has tourist written all over it; a slick museum that pays homage to all things beer.  I paid my admission, stepping from industrial Dublin into a gleaming glass atrium with a large gift shop to get you started.

View from the top of the Storehouse, complete with James Joyce quote.

I made my way through the four elements of beer – water, barley, hops, and yeast – through barrel rooms, through a retrospective of Guinness advertising and finally to a bar at the top of the building that has a stunning view over the city.

There were opportunities to taste different brews (all Guinness) that are sold in different countries. There was a restaurant that had food all involving the dark stout (including a stew that was just heavenly).

I took it all in. Was it the epitome of being a tourist? Yes. It most certainly was. Did that diminish my enjoyment of it? Not a bit. I was happy to be there.

You Came All the Way Here for That?

Someone may have pointed at me and giggled behind their hand to a companion. “Look! A tourist!” Folks may have seen me wandering that part of the city and thought to themselves “Another bloody lost tourist.” Some may have thought unkind things about me.

I’m okay with that. I was in Dublin; Dublin-freaking-Ireland. Not only was I in Dublin, Ireland, I was drinking Guinness at the source – or pretty darned near to the source. Legend (or marketing) has it that this is where it is supposed to taste the best.

I came here for just that, to have experiences that are different from where I live. The fact that I was a tourist had very little to do with where I was standing. This was going to be known the minute I opened my mouth, with my American accent; as it will anywhere I go that is out of the US..

Be A Tourist!

Be openly admiring of wherever it is you are visiting. Have fun because you are in this incredible place. This place you have dreamed of going, this place you have been looking forward to seeing.

Nothing about being a tourist means you are hapless. It means you took a chance and went somewhere new and different. Being a tourist means that you are paying quite a compliment to wherever you are. Of all the places in the world you could go, you went there.

This is probably where I should put all the warnings about being careful and such. Perhaps this is the paragraph where I should talk about precautions, especially if you are traveling alone. Maybe this is where I should admonish you to be polite, to be a good guest. There will be time for that in another post.

For now, I think, it is enough to say that it is more than okay to just be a tourist for a day or 12. Traveling should be fun. So gape at that attraction, pick up something in the gift shop and take a picture of yourself in front of that place. You always wanted to go here, so revel in each moment.

I am going to be a tourist again in a few weeks; this time in France and Germany. Where are you going to be a tourist this year?