Traveller Checks

A little while ago I wrote a post while teaching about the different types of teachers. As this resulted in the virtual standing ovation that was zero comments I've decided to do the same thing again with travellers. Vitriol and spite fans, it's been too long.

The Bargain Hunt:

That could be rhyming slang for this particular brand of roamer. For them it's all about how cheap you can get absolutely anything, regardless of the minimal saving and the maximum discomfort. They'll brag continually about how they stayed on a plank of wood in Cambodia for less than the cost of a paperclip and massage their hands together gleefully as a pulsating grub arrives at the table between two leaves of freshly peeled tourist skin. If you pay more than 20p for dinner - including relaxing massage and signed ping-pong - they'll screw their pugnacious faces up in disgust and follow that with an incredulous grin, as though you're some kind of mug. Funny because it's exactly the same face the locals pull as they gag and heave their way through their grub grub. Bargain Hunt will tell you it's all about immersing yourself in the experience, but I'd argue that to do just that you don't have to sit naked by a rusty water pump with your swollen belly as flies plumb greedily at your eye jelly.

The Smug Fuck:

And it's a re-entry into the top five for this variety of teacher and traveller, but the conventions are altered slightly. This is the wanderer who, whenever you mention something heinous, have no idea what you're talking about. For example, when you scratch your weeping, bleeding legs to satiate bite after bite, they'll gaily exclaim that, 'oh, I'm not really troubled by the mosquitoes. If you put it out of your mind I find they don't bother you.' Suffering relentless attacks by the bloodthirsty flying gits is not a state of mind. If anything the little bastards find a 'chilled' attitude a welcome relief from the scorching heat. Speaking of which, the Smug Fucks also never endure the sun's compulsion to flay the skin right off your face: 'I didn't even put any lotion on today and look at you!' I'll have my revenge when, in about 10 years, your dermis looks like an old paper bag and mine's still milky fresh. I can wait.

Traveller Police:

This lot have their radars ready wherever they go, listening out to contribute their opinions and stamp out even the merest Western sensibility. Their answer to every nuance of frustration is, 'well, you're in _______ now.' which can be filled in according to whatever country you're unfortunate enough to make their acquaintance. This can be about anything, from getting no sleep, to being horribly ripped off or just getting annoyed with the perpetual inconsistencies of what is told to you and what actually occurs. Much like the actual police, Traveller Police are always there at exactly the point you don't want them. Say you've just done a particularly gruelling overnight bus journey, had no sleep and are pleading with some confused-looking, but very loud locals to keep it down because if you don't rest soon there'll be that blacking out thing again where you wake up surrounded by body parts. 'Hey, you're in Laos now, buddy', they unhelpfully smirk through their matted dreadlocks. And then the darkness.

Obnoxious teenagers:

Young, dumb and rude to their mums. I caught one of these freshly squeezed ball fruits actually arguing with 'mom' in a shared internet cafe about being safe: 'Mom, I am sensible! The car paint will come off! God!' Loud displays of hateful rhetoric fuse naturally into further demonstrations of how to ignore absolutely everyone around you and frankly give a shit. Rude to the locals, this lot want their Ibiza holiday anywhere they can and happily ruin a good night out for everyone else with their karate chop dance moves and incongruous drug abuse. The OTs parade their annoyingly perfect bodies around, wide-eyed and gurning, to the shock and awe of the indigenous people in their pursuit of the ultimate high in the most unlikely and inappropriate of places. Fun to watch as they nod in drug-addled approval for their brethrin, who jive and grind their buns off in front of a bemused-looking monk. Still, the drug police can only be round the corner - I wonder if they know the butt-fuck boogie? So good it hurts. A lot. For years.

The Besters:

An irrepressibly, to the point of utter delusion, positive group of trippers who have always had the best, happiest, most amazing, pant-wettingly incredible time and if you haven't - well, they just shake their heads slowly in mock sympathy. If you went on a trek and had fun, their time was more meaningful than just fun. If you enjoyed your time at a waterfall, they reached new levels of mystical enlightenment round the corner - oh, didn't you see that part? If you tried a local whisky and got a bit squiffy, they have stared into the eye of Buddha himself - who was grateful for the opportunity to meet them. A difficult bus ride is an experience you grow from; a lying, cheating travel agent is all about the experience; experience, experience, experience, experience, experience. This morning we were all woken abruptly and loudly at 4am by the local temple as they celebrated the life of an old woman who died recently. 'Singing', chanting, music that sounds just like the noise a Spectrum made when it was loading, all played through a speaker system that could be heard over 20km away, while happily only being 1km away from us - because God loves amplification. A Bester came down bleary-eyed and crease-headed but still smiling. 'It's good', she said. 'I really liked the sound. Amazing.' Cunt.

Just as I did with the teaching categorisation, I need to think about where I fit into all this. Well, I'm too much of a fussy shit to be a Bargain Hunt and have way too much self-loathing to be a Smug Fuck. Too moody to let the locals get away with it, so can't be a member of the Traveller Police and, let's face it, too hairy and crusty and about 15 years too late to be a teenager, leaving just The Besters. Overwhelmingly positive...? Hmm. No. I guess I'm actually the opposite of each of these sorts - but that's not necessarily a good thing and I'm certainly not blowing my own trumpet. I don't even have a trumpet. My experience out here is about trying to get by without offending anyone (too late) and making the most of it while trying to avoid being ripped off (fat chance) and sunburnt. Also, apparently, to sit in judgement upon all others from my septic and toxic point of view. Who do I think I am? I'm worse than the whole lot of them.

Thanks to my glorious girl for her comment last week - although it was a little hateful. Maybe I'm rubbing off on you a little bit? Sounds rude. Will be. By the way, I've uploaded a video of my first few weeks here, if you're at all interested. See it here: http://vimeo.com/30932580 Bwye!