Be a Traveller
A great man's philosophy and a South American dance.
Anthony Bourdain is a personal hero of mine. Despite that I have never stepped foot into a professional kitchen and have only visited a handful of the countries which that man has, if I had to have dinner with three people from any point in history, Bourdain would be the first name on an invitation.
On the surface, there is an undeniable swagger about the man. Look at any photo of him. It’s the desert shoes and classic, blue jeans; it’s the tattoos and sunglasses that are so small no-one should be able to pull them off - and yet he does.
It is on the deeper level though, reading his writing and hearing him speak, that you gain an insight into Bourdain’s philosophies, and see how insightful they are. It’s not a surprise his way of thinking has come to be known by his many fans as Bourdainism.
He’s said many beautiful things about travelling and adventure. However, it is in a short clip from the 2021 documentary, Roadrunner: A Film About Anthony Bourdain, where one of his core beliefs is shown in just six words:
Be a traveller, not a tourist.
Having travelled extensively over the past three years, this is a philosophy I have attempted to embody consistently. It is one I heavily believe in. I mentioned it to a friend once, and we had a good discussion about what it actually means.
For me, it means simply being open to anything and everything that can happen, and taking action to ensure it does. A week later, I was exposed to a quote from the historian Daniel Boorstin, who in 1962 wrote, “The traveller was active; he goes strenuously in search of people, of adventure, of experience. The tourist is passive; he expects interesting things to happen to him.”
It was the type of thing that I read and thought, ‘That’s what I meant to say.’
After consideration, I think I have figured out a quick distinction between the two parties: the tourist is passive; the traveller is proactive.
I love travelling. I love talking to people about travelling. I love hearing stories about places that people have gone. I love hearing about what they saw, what they ate, their thoughts on the people and the culture, and anything else they tell me. So it does break my heart slightly when I hear someone tell me about their holiday and I come away thinking, ‘Not much happened in that story.’
I understand not every story or adventure is going to be a grand one. If they were all epics, none of them would be. I have been on trips where I look back and realise not much happened. It’s not a waste of time; sometimes it just happens. If you act as the traveller does, and you put yourself in a place for something to happen and it still does not, there can be no regret.
Additionally, not everyone’s metric of what constitutes a good use of time is the same. Some people are quite happy to save-up their money and spend it on a week’s holiday at an all-inclusive beach resort, where they spend their time either laying beside a pool or the beach. If people are content to do that, then fair play to them - who am I to judge?
For me, that is too passive. If I have a limited amount of time in a city, I want to attempt the impossible task of doing everything that interests me. I never have a set plan or itinerary. I simply want to get out of the hostel early, walk around for 10-12 hours and see as much as I can, before I arrive back late with aching feet. I want to find the small restaurants filled with locals, tucked away in streets away from the city’s main attractions. Don’t get me wrong, I want to see the sights of a city. If I am in Paris, I’ll see the Eiffel Tower; but am I going to queue to go up to the observation desk? Not a chance.
I hold a firm belief that when you are proactive, and you put yourself in a position for something to happen, it usually does. You get a story out it.
No great story starts with lounging around. When I talk of my trip to Bosnia and Herzegovina, I do not talk about drinking at a bar with other guests from the hostel I was staying at. Instead, I talk about how I became the 4224th member of the Mostar Diving Club.
If you asked me about Finland, I would tell you of the night that my family and I chased after the northern lights on snowmobile through the Finnish wilderness. Even in Artic-grade clothing, I have never felt that cold in my life. I only felt slightly warm again when we stopped to eat sausage and tikkupulla, which were both cooked over an open fire.
Or, I could tell you time earlier this year when my brother and I were in Santiago, Chile, on the 18th of September, a day the country celebrates its independence. I knew the significance of the day and I had heard of a celebration occurring at Parque O'Higgins, a park in the city. We made our way there, following the crowd of people that grew larger as we approached. Inside the park, there were food stalls selling different all types of different foods and alcohol; there was the type of game stalls you would see at a carnival; and there was a stage where bands and artists were to perform later in the afternoon. There was also another covered area, where a live band played music near the front stage. In front of them, many people were doing the cueca.
The cueca, Chile’s national dance, is a dance and musical style originating in parts of South America. The dancing element involves two people facing one another and moving around in a circular motion, with a great deal of hand and hip movement mixed in. There seemed to be as many people standing on the side of the dance floor watching, as there were people out there dancing. When a song would finish, some people would leave and others would join. Those on the floor would go and find a new partner, and some men would approach women and invite them for a dance. Seeing as I had never taken a dance lesson in my life, and it appeared anybody could go out there, my brother and I thought it was a great idea to try the dance ourselves.
We made our way out to the floor. We danced. The song finished. We had not embarrassed ourselves entirely, and as we made our way off the floor, we thought that our one-time performance of the cueca was over - until two Chilean women approached us and invited to dance with them. Back on the floor, we attempted to follow and replicate their movements to the best of our ability. I would be lying if I said it went well: I spent a good amount of my time trying not to bump into anybody else while we all circled and moved around each other. But what a time it was.
As we go through life, we are all just collecting stories based on our experiences. At the end, I want to have some good stories. Being a traveller and being proactive, searching strenuously for people, adventure and experience, gifted me another story that day. However, I do not plan on adding proficient in dancing the cueca to my resumé just yet.
Anthony Bourdain advocated for being a traveller. When talking of the beauty and ugliness that can often come with travel, he said, “The journey changes you.”
Well, I think that great man was right - these adventures have certainly changed me.
This is great! Bourdain continues to be such an inspiration in my own life—an amazing storyteller that connects us to culture & food.
Reminds me of Richard Halliburton's books. "I had sought the New World and met a land of romance, face to face." - From his book, New Worlds to Conquer.