A Tourist at Home
This weekend, for the first time in my life, I walked across the Brooklyn Bridge. In fact, I started at my apartment on 31st St., so by the time I actually reached where the bridge walkway elevates above the cars, I almost bought a soft pretzel to reward my efforts. And I walked all the way back. My Apple Watch was literally vibrating with excitement.
But yes, this was my first time. And when I spoke with my grandma about it later, she remarked that she has never been across, despite living and working in the boroughs for decades. It makes sense. I have lived just north of NYC my whole life, visited countless times, and yet I’ve never been to the Statue of Liberty, or to the top of the Empire State Building, or even to the Top of the Rock. I have not visited One World Trade Center. I’ve never had Joe’s pizza (but that’s happening sooner than later, mark my words).
Those of us who live in and love these big cities are constantly conscious of not seeming like tourists. When we walk, we don’t look up to admire the beautiful architecture as a tourist might. We cross the streets even when it’s probably not safe to do so, because we’re New Yorkers, man! And we avoid Times Square at all costs. We are in the city to live our lives, not for the sights and sounds, but there is a reason that people come from elsewhere to visit, and I promise it does not damage the fragile personas we are crafting to find ourselves among them once in a while.
As I was walked across the bridge, I couldn’t help but marvel at the [completely normal, excited] people who were hoisting themselves up on beams for the perfect picture angle or asking strangers—in the time of Corona—to take ultra-posed pictures while locals whizzed through the shot on bikes.
I am a naturally fast walker, so I found myself maneuvering around large globs of people who were entirely unaware of the passing lane (I could write a whole blog post complaining about peoples’ lack of spacial awareness). They were speaking English and Spanish and Russian and Mandarin. And all the while I wondered, have these people traveled from out of town to be here, or are they just like me? NYC is a melting pot within a melting pot, and it was a nice day… who was I to label these people as tourists just because they were participating in a touristy activity? There I was walking the same wooden slats.
Again I head to my trusty side-kick: Google Dictionary. A tourist is “a person who is traveling or visiting a place for pleasure.” I had no business on the Brooklyn Bridge. I was a tourist. Case closed. When I am walking down the streets of NYC to get a coffee, that’s business. The coffee shop is utile beyond the pleasure the coffee will provide. I went to the Brooklyn Bridge simply to go, to see it, to walk it, and to be able to tell people I did.
Tourists tend to get a bad rap. They’re “outsiders” who clog up otherwise peaceful streets and spur the commodification of ancient wonders, masterpieces, and even-semi-interesting places everywhere. But we’re all tourists. Even if you’ve lived in Manhattan your whole life and want to check-out Staten Island, you are then a tourist. I have lived in NYC now almost half a year, and I am proud to be an enduring tourist here. On my trip to the Bridge, I passed through neighborhoods I’ve never been to and took a second to look around, to be a tourist while passing through.
The truth is, without tourists, some of the most amazing sights and places would never get the appreciation they deserve. Historians, archaeologists, etc. can record in books all they want, but—and coming from a bibliophile this says a lot—reading about the Colosseum, for example, will never match going there, buying some expensive cacio e pepe across the street, paying for a tour, and buying a kitschy T-shirt. In some places, such as Nepal, tourism is the primary industry supporting the lives of locals.
The reason people do these things and see these places is because they are worth it. The Brooklyn Bridge used to be the longest suspension bridge in the world. It was built before there were even cars to cross it. It’s history. So be a proud tourist, whether that means traveling across the world or taking the subway one extra stop to a new park. Not only does tourism enlighten oneself, but it supports local and national economies. Rock those fanny packs and wave those selfie-sticks high!
Especially as we emerge from this pandemic, travel is sacred. So whether you are planning to be a tourist in the recently-named-happiest-country Finland or at the Times Square Olive Garden, embrace the label. Let the haters be jealous they have nowhere to go.