Angie and I travel a lot. By doing so we have learned how to fit in with the locals and not be blatantly touristy. If you plan to travel this is good information to know.
We are currently near Monterey, California and the distinction from local / tourist is easily seen. The locals are dressed normally. The tourists are not.
Who decreed that all tourists must wear cargo shorts? Male and female alike. Their legs have not seen the light of day since that unfortunate clothing malfunction at Walmart. Children are trying to play “connect the dots” on your legs while they stand in line to pay twice the normal price for mediocre food at Bubba Gump’s. They are walking around like they are on walkabout in Australia with Crocodile Dundee. Floppy hat and all. All they are missing is the large knife on their belts. But then again, I never observed Crocodile Dundee wear a fanny pack.
Why a fanny pack? Cargo shorts are full of pockets. They wear the pack up front as a large neon sign flashing “Tourist coming! Raise your prices! Try to sell me $500 worth of skin cream!” The term “fanny pack” is clearly an indication that the pack goes over your “fanny” which is understood in most countries of the world as your butt. The only exception is in England where the term “fanny” refers to the front lower region of females only, unless you have had gender surgery. That term is also quite rude in England. Maybe it should have a gender-neutral term applied in light of all the gender issues popping up around the world. How about a “might be a fanny pack” or a “you are going to have to guess pack”.
Angie and I were getting some drinks at a beach side establishment with some friends in Maui. We were at a table close to the pedestrian path that was between us and the beach. Along comes Mr. Universe of 1942 in a speedo. Probably the same one he wore in the 1942 competition. This was in 2017 and aging has had a sad effect of Mr. Universe. I had to stop him and tell him that the potato goes in front. The last thing you want to see in beautiful Maui is a shirtless 95-year-old packing a load. Male OR female. Old people, we love you but please keep your clothes on. You are scaring those of us that are heading your direction in age.
When Angie and I travel out of the country I always try to learn enough of the local language to get around. Standard greetings, how to ask directions, asking what the wiggling thing on your plate is and so on. My favorite go-to book is “Learn *insert the language here* for dummies.” I feel it is only polite to try to address people in the native tongue seeing as how I am the visitor. Angie and I went to France several times (the rumor that the waiters are rude is untrue, unless you insist on speaking English). The book told me to adopt the accent of the people of the country you are visiting. For France I am “Pepe’ Le Pew”, for Latin America I am “Speedy Gonzales”, For Italy I am “The At-Sa Spicy Meatball Guy”. I have a friend from Italy and when I used that accent he told me:
“We don-a talk-a that way”
“Yes-a you do-a” I replied.
We went to Italy with that same family a couple of years back and Angie developed a “Potty Problem” and we had to go to the pharmacy. We took their 15-year-old son Enzo with us to translate. Angie was constipated.
The conversation went like this translated from Italian:
Enzo: “Excuse me, but my friend has problems bringing herself to use the toilet, do you have something to help her?”
Pharmacist: “Yes, would she like an herbal or a pharmaceutical medication?”
Enzo: “Pharmaceuticle please”
As the pharmacist went back to get the medication Angie asked Enzo to see if they carry anything for hemorrhoids. Enzo was a little taken aback. That is not the common thing to talk about with a 15-year-old boy that has known you all his life. When the pharmacist came back Enzo tried his best to make the additional request but was not using the right word for “Hemorrhoid” This led to an animated discussion in Italian as to the medication needed. They finally figured it out and the pharmacist informed Enzo that they have some cream for that issue. As he was going back to get it Angie asked Enzo if he could see if they have any suppositories while gesturing emphatically with two fingers of her hand in an upward motion.
“No” Enzo replied.
Several years back Angie and I were at the Louver Museum in Paris. We loved the place and spent three days exploring it. As we were in the central hall in the lobby area I was doing my normal “Pepe’ Le Pew” imitation by greeting passerby’s with:
“Bon Jour! Come tale’ vou’?”
A French family approached me and asked (I am assuming here) directions to some area in French.
“Huh Huh Huhhh!” I replied while gesturing wildly.
“Merci’” they replied and headed off in the general direction of my spasmodic gesturing.
I told Angie we need to leave the hall and when she asked why I responded:
“I don’t know where I sent those people”
Angie did the same thing in Italy minus the cheesy accent and wild gestures. We were in one of the train stations in Milan. While my Italian friend and I were looking at the train route map, Angie noticed this Arabian couple staring at her. Angie was thinking in her mind that they were going to come up and ask her a question in Italian as Angie assumed she looked Italian. (She looks as Italian as Arnold Swartznagger looks Chinese) Angie started to panic as she saw they were approaching her.
“Excuse us,” they said in perfect English, “Could you direct us to the Central Station?”
“I’m sorry,” Angie replied, “I don’t speak English”
“But your speaking English to us” was their reply.
“Oh” said Angie. “Maybe you should ask them” as she pointed to me and our friend.
I wonder why most other countries don’t like Americans?