Features: Magazine | Literary Review | Life | Metro Plus | Open Page | Education Plus | Book Review | Business | SciTech | Friday Review | Young World | Property Plus | Quest | Folio |

Look, there's another!

If you haven't seen that classic film `If It's Tuesday It Must Be Belgium', maybe we can help you identify the various species of tourists. They're all over, if you've noticed

PHOTOS: V.V. KRISHNAN AND VIPIN CHANDRAN

THE SHUTTERBUGS AND THE LOLLERS Each one has his or her own own method

A slow boat. Three hundred people. A four-and-a-half-hour journey from mainland to island. Tinny numbers belting out of the PA system. The good news is if this overcrowded furnace ever went down, you'd touch water in style, with music playing in the background. But chuck the thought overboard. Here's a great opportunity for time-pass the tour guide hasn't bothered to mention. Look at the shapes, sizes and intentions of the milling trippers around. What makes a tourist? Watch. Which slot do you fit in?

The photomaniac

Draped on the side of the boat is your gadget-driven guy, a sightseer who can appreciate the scenery only through lab-made lens. His own are obviously out-dated models. He's the compulsive camera-clicker, takes hundreds of pictures after scanning the scene through binoculars. Never mind the water looks the same from any angle. He makes contact with other tourists to talk of camera makes, resolutions, downloads and CDs. He says: "Great place, yaar, I got it all on film," without once setting eyes on it.

The chomper

He's your confirmed foodie. He chain-eats. He travels so he can eat away from home. He gets on the boat and rushes to the snack bar, is first in line for anything advertised as food. On the island, he downs coconuts with well-aimed stones, de-husks them to devour the kernel. Between munches, he seeks out mates to discuss recipes from Rajasthan, Delhi and Bhopal. He's the brave one, never lets his paunch hold up his palate.

The chic

The elegant clan you're embarrassed to sit next to. Be prepared is their motto. The family spreads out paper and serviettes before nibbling at slim sandwiches and collects orange and banana peels carefully into bags. The kids talk in hushed tones, keep to themselves. They don't need company, nor do they offer any. Being on this boat must be a culture shock for them.

The globizen

You'll spot him a mile away. Clad in bermudas and bought-abroad T-shirt, he is here to compare. What's in front of him can never measure up to the vague memory of what he saw overseas. "The water is cleaner in Australia, the woods prettier in Black Forest, beaches more beautiful in Miami, the islands shapelier elsewhere." For this name-dropper, anything Indian is inferior.

The zzzzz

Dragged into this by wife and kids, he sits in a corner staring at the deck, boredom written all over his body. While wife takes pictures and joins every sitting and standing committee of chatters, this loner is left cursing his fate.

He eats whatever is handed on a plate, stretches his legs for a snooze, perhaps dreams of the comfortable chair in front of his TV back home. He has a two-word vocabulary: Ask mom.

The gabby tourist

Within the first hour, he has "discovered" dozens of friends, by the second hour, most people on the boat know enough about him to write a profile. Life and soul of the party, he is the first to hire a guide, fix a taxi, reach the beach and find the eateries. Tap him and he'll pour out information — where and how he booked, what you'll get to see, how the tour operator is gypping him. A revised edition is Mr. Know-All, who knows how many knots the boat is making, how many nautical miles are left to cover, how many trips it makes to break even. He rushes into museums, digs out odd facts and insists on sharing them. "Get my money's worth" is his mantra.

Must-leave-my-legacy

All the world is his stage. He owns the sun, the sand, the monuments, the mountains and everything else. He plucks flowers, throws garbage and breaks anything that looks pretty or new. To make doubly sure he's not forgotten by posterity, this enterprising guy takes time off to craft his love life on every surrounding surface. Sure he was here — on the outer roof, inner dome, on the pillar and the smooth slope of the hill, carving legacies.

Finally, the writer, watching the men and women instead of what he is paid for. Conditioned by word count, he cannot look at surf or sunset without wondering how to condense it.

GEETA PADMANABHAN

Printer friendly page  
Send this article to Friends by E-Mail