Taking Notice

I won’t be able to post tomorrow because I have to finish a paper so I’ll get this out now because it may not be too relevant by Thursday. Well not fresh anyway.
After Wales I had to do two things. Well I guess three but two of them are related. One was buy groceries (standard for new week) and the other was wash my clothes. The third thing was wash and dry my sneakers, which basically goes with laundry for all you nitpickers. You see I brought both pairs of sneakers to Wales. I was warned ahead of time that one pair would get wet as they would be on my feet whilst I plunged into the 40 degree water from 20 feet. The other pair got incredibly muddy on the Sunday hike along the coastline. So there you have it. The stage is set.

Now I want you to picture something. My only clean pair of outdoor footwear remaining was my dress shoes. And in order to transport my laundry to the laundry mat (which does it all for me for 10 pounds) I use my large backpacking backpack. So I was wearing my dress shoes while lugging the backpack that says “Obviously I am a tourist.” For better or worse I am aware that people think things when they pass. In this country people are really good about not staring, but it is obvious that they take notice. So on the one hand they all thought they were so clever. They had me identified from the minute they saw my pack. “This kid is a tourist. He has no clue where he is going. Let’s turn our noses up.”

But then I was wearing dress shoes. That doesn’t quite add up does it? Why would someone backpack across Europe in stiff shoes and not sneakers? Makes no sense. That’s what’s so interesting about judgments. They have no bearing on anything. I actually passed an Asian couple looking for directions who breezed right past me and stopped the person behind me. Whether or not I could have helped is neither here nor there. The point is they didn’t try me because they made a snap judgment.

I wonder what people thought when they saw me turn into the laundry mat. “Ahh I get it, he is using it to transport his laundry. Resourceful kid.”

And later when I used my pack to transport groceries I was faced with presenting the same image. I guess in the end it doesn’t matter. It’s just part of me hates having to look like a tourist when I don’t feel like one. But I guess I am still harping on one of the main themes of this trip: at what point do I stop being a tourist? Does using the bag like a fulltime resident make up for the fact that I have the touristy knapsack in the first place? Who knows? And in reality, no one probably noticed me anyway. I sure can’t remember anyone I saw on that walk (well except the Chinese couple).

Comments Welcome,

Andrew