What does it mean to be a traveler?

The head boss at V!VA Travel Guides, Jason, asked a question similar to this during our meeting Monday afternoon. He asked of the two of us who will be doing on-the-ground research for the Ecuador guidebook that during our travels in the next six months we keep this inquiry fresh in our minds.

Now what Jason, in his Freudian-type glasses with a slicked back ponytail and overly-chilled-out aura, was really expressing with this statement was literal: How do we cater to our audience? With that question I realized that the next six months will most likely consist of endless bus tickets and hostel reservations throughout Ecuador in order to find the most appealing places of accommodation, the most adventurous travel packages, and the most appetizing restaurants (all keeping price in mind).

But for me, (If I want to stay sane at least), it will have to be much more than that. It will be listening to the tales of other travelers, it will be talking to hostel and restaurant owners about the degree of respect they receive from the usual passerby, it will be requesting information on corporate and social responsibility from tour agencies (or lack thereof, and perhaps resulting in getting kicked off the premises). It will have to be about grabbing hold of the truth of this industry--one that has crept up to become one of the top five most lucrative industries in Ecuador (no wonder Ecuadorians can be so friendly with travelers).

A woman from the UK, Stef, who slept in the bunk next to me for a few nights, hugged me one night before bed and said, "You know, you're not like other travelers."

The comment caught me off guard, but after multiple conversations with transient travelers stopping in Posada del Maple for a nice night or two of rest, I attempted to govern that comment into a more personal meaning I could better understand. I had to. I came to work for a travel writing company. If I'm not like other travelers--if I can't get inside other traveler's minds, and figure out what it is they really want to get out of traveling to a new country--then what am I doing here?

It made sense why she said that. I really don't consider myself a true traveler. I guess the romantic idea of the whole thing intrigues me, which is why I choose to fly. But generally I find a place, and for the most part, I stay there. I'm not one of the drunken obnoxious tourists who travel in groups, still clutching the comfort of their brotherhood; who only rise from their beds during the peak hours of partying or when a fútbol match comes on TV (and even then they're too hungover to leave the damn hostel). I don't make my way from place to place, stripped of plans or a final destination. I'm not one half of a retired couple looking for new ways to occupy their newfound free time.

But I am interested in what it is they're looking for. Often times the judgments of others I tend experience in the peripheral of my own mind tend to get challenged quite a bit. I want to hear what they have to say.

If Stef hadn't have said that comment, and if I hadn't tried to make sense of it, I might not have so soon acquired the ambition to take this job a step further. But now I really have no choice. If I'm going to stick with this gig, I have to go about it in the right way, and that goes beyond just being a mere "traveler."

After returning from the meeting at work, I did end up asking Stef, who has spent two years traveling throughout Latin America, what she meant.

"Because other travelers don't really care that much."


Here's to my next traverse across time and space.