I kind of like tourist traps. I don’t like crowds. I don’t like sweating. I don’t like overpaying for things. But I do like seeing the things everybody goes someplace to see. And a good gift shop never hurt anyone. Maybe it is because I grew up in the shadow of Disneyland and now live forty miles from the “Most Magical Place On Earth.” Maybe it is because the only time I have been out of the country, I went on a nice, safe, prefabricated bus tour. Maybe it is because I do not trust my own ability to entertain myself and others. Anyway, my travel orientation has always been touristy. I have a fine, virtually invisible line between “kitschy” and “tacky.”
When people visit me, I tend to take them to the kind of touristy places for which Florida is known- Disney, beaches, Universal, waterfront dining, outlet malls. I live close to The Villages, which is a retirement city on steroids. It has become its own tourist attraction. I take people through the gob-smacking experience of the themed town squares.
My very dear friend Judy has a completely different perspective on tourism. She and her husband do quite a bit of traveling all over the world. They do some tours but have also done extensive traveling on their own. I’m sure they enjoy seeing the things that everybody goes places to see, but they tend to prioritize experiences that show them what it is actually like to live in the location they are visiting. I must admit; the idea intrigues me. Still, I have always struggled to slip the leash and trust myself to create such an experience. As I get older, I become more keenly aware that the time I have remaining when I will be able to navigate leash-slipping is limited.
A couple of years ago, we went to the Great Smoky Mountains. I thought I was being very adventurous because I booked a mountain cabin on Vrbo. Also, I made the brave decision to drive us all the way from central Florida to Tennessee. These choices were both outside my comfort zone and I congratulated myself on my courage all the way there. When we entered Pigeon Forge, however, I was amazed to find out that my tolerance for tackiness does actually have a limit. The aging sparkle and whimsy on the main drag and the huge hordes of crowds on the sidewalks grated on me. There was a seediness about the place. It kind of gave me the “ick.”
It was odd that the Dollywood, which one might imagine to be the crown rhinestone in the Pigeon Forge plastic tiara, was quite restrained. Well, maybe “restrained” is not exactly the right word for anything affiliated with Dolly Parton. However, the park was immaculate, the décor and theming beautiful, and the crowds were not overwhelming at all. The days we spent in the Great Smoky Mountain National Park and Skypark in Gatlinburg were amazing. No taint of tack at all.
Overall- despite the oppressive vibe of the main tourist drag (consisting of “roadside attractions” junk food, and Great Smoky Mountain made-in-China gift shops)- I left the state of Tennessee feeling that the trip was a triumph of Terri brand tourism. It felt good to have a few adventures mixed into my normally staid trips to see the things everybody goes places to see. And I did get to see the things everybody goes to the area to see- just maybe a little more than I wanted to see!
Recently, I traveled to Vermont to see my dear friend Delcie. I was in Vermont twice before when my goal was to see the sights that people always want to see. I decided that this was the time to try my friend Judy’s Modis operandi- I wanted to see what Vermont was like up close and personal. I wasn’t going to see VERMONT. I was going to see Delcie’s Vermont. My priority was to see her life in Vermont, not the Vermont Department of Tourism and Marketing’s Vermont. Since I had a safety net- Delcie would make sure I made it out alive- it could be carefully controlled adventure.
It was a huge success. We did sightsee. We went on a quest to find the Cabot Creamery store. You honestly don’t get kitschier than driving a couple of hours to see a mega store dedicated to cheese. I admit to insisting on a return trip to the Vermont Teddy Bear Factory. I may or may not have also spent a rather long time in a Christmas store that looked like the North Pole had vomited all over Vermont. On the other hand, we explored a number of places that I doubt figure prominently in any tour book. They all delighted my soul.
We went to the Robert Frost Interpretative Trail in the Green Mountain National Forest. We spent an hour or so hiking through an absolutely gorgeous forest, alight with dappled sun and sparkling brooks. Wildflowers danced in meadows and beneath the canopy. Every hundred yards or so, there was a wooden post with a plaque engraved with a Frost poem. The poem on each post fit what it overlooked.
One day, we took a ride through Smuggler’s Notch and stopped at the side of the road to explore. It is one of the best proofs ever that God’s architecture is superior to anything man can build. Winding through a corridor of the Green Mountains, you see that the walls around you are chiseled sheets of the most exquisite stone. The shading of the stone is remarkable. It is silver and gray, with hints of sage, rust, and garnet weaving through it. It could be a jewelry grade gemstone- all the way up the mountains all around you when you stop at the side of the road. The precise, oddly angular traveling of the stone to the sky is striking, as well.
We drove out to Delcie’s cabin on Lake Champlain. I got to glimpse her summertime life out in the woods. I was instantly enveloped in the peace and beauty of her very own forest. I learned about the difficulties in maintaining this breathtakingly sacred space. I learned about invasive flora. I learned about septic tanks. I learned about snowplowing. I learned about winterizing. I also learned about feeling like a different version of oneself simply by changing one’s environment.
I attended a church service with Delcie. I met one of her daughters and sons-in-law. I loved on her sweet dog Coco. On several evenings, I walked the community track across the street from her home for exercise. I enjoyed the fresh, cool evening air. I reveled in the sweet fragrance of lilac outside Delcie’s verandah. I drank in a beautiful sunset on St. Alban’s Bay while eating a “creemie”- a Vermont gourmet soft serve delicacy. I ate more than my share of delicious food. I came home over-snacked, but I enjoyed it while I was in the moment.
I liked coming home. I love my own life. Still, I am a tourist at heart. I always thought that meant touring amusement parks, museums, historical monuments, internationally famous landmarks, and the all-important gift shops. I find that being a tourist can be more intimate than that. I am learning that I am a tourist of lives!