Travel Tuesdays: YOU Be the Helpful Local

That's Adam, just before he drove us to a hotel in his big rig.

These "Travel Tuesdays" posts are usually about being a traveler. Today I'd like you to think about being a friendly local to travelers who might be passing through your town or city.

In the past, I've written about locals who have helped us when we were traveling. Franco and Caroline helped us deal with medical issues when we were in Sicily. Our tow truck driver, Adam, showed exceptional kindness and also helped us get to a hotel after towing the RV we had rented. I have countless stories like these.

In each of our travels, we have met wonderful, caring people who helped us in one way or another. Today, I invite you to be the helpful local to some traveler.

I was reminded of this while at the beach with my kids last week. My daughter was playing with another girl which led me to chat with her mom. I learned that they were on vacation from Boston for a couple of weeks. While we didn't "help" them, per se, I'd like to think they came away from the experience feeling welcomed in our area.

If you're not sure how to start, read this old post called Meetin' the Locals to get some ideas. Then step out and make some new connections!

How have you helped travelers feel welcomed in your area? Do you have other suggestions for how to break the ice and meet new people?

Travel Tuesdays: Mount Desert Island ME and Chatham, MA

Today I'd like to focus on travel that's closer to home. Not everyone is able to travel internationally, but nearly all of my suggestions can be applied to domestic travel.

This past summer, my family took a vacation to Mount Desert Island (MDI) in Maine. MDI is home to Acadia National Park, so we spent part of our time visiting various sites in the park. The rest of our time, however, was spent getting to know the area as the locals do.

We observed birds of prey that were fledging and talked to local residents to see if they had identified the birds. During one conversation we also got a tip about a local swimming hole. When we went for a swim, we were the only ones there. We spent lots of time observing a sunfish protecting its nest. On another day, we hiked to a scenic overlook (some say the most beautiful on the island) that few tourists climb. Afterwards, we purchased delicious bread from the local bakery and tasted ice cream at a shop a block away. While eating my ice cream, I noticed a flyer for a local artist.

After seeing that flyer for r scott balz gallery for a third time, I decided I should take a drive to meet the artist. Scott and I engaged in a lively discussion of our creative processes. We viewed his bold landscapes with rich colors. When I told him I tend to take close-up photos of small things like rocks, insects and lichen he told me he used to take close up photos for a living and went into a back room to pull out a photo of kelp on the beach. It was an enriching and inspiring conversation I never would have had if I were on a scheduled tour with a program of events to follow.  Our family had scheduled a couple of things, but otherwise wandered where we felt inspired to wander on any given day.

A couple of weeks later I was in Chatham, MA on Cape Cod (about one hour from my home) with my whole family (sisters, spouses, nieces, parents, kids, etc). While kayaking in a pond, I noticed a man in waders walking along the edge of the pond. He had a camera hanging from his neck and was taking notes. I turned my kayak and paddled over. “Hi. I hope you don’t mind me interrupting you. You seem to be documenting something. May I ask what you’re working on?”

Fred went on to tell me that his parents used to own a large section of land surrounding the pond. Much of that land, including the sand banks along one edge, had been destroyed by various human activity including locals riding ATVs. About 10 years ago they sold the land to a private conservation organization at a discounted rate. Fred was out that day documenting the changes in the edge of the pond since conservation efforts were put in place. He told me that ten years ago a plant commonly called Marsh Mallow, that only grows in three counties in Massachusetts, was wiped out along the pond. Now it’s back and getting stronger. He was documenting these changes by counting and photographing the plants. By talking to Fred, I looked more closely at the edge of the pond and noticed the detailed centers of these beautiful flowers.

By connecting with the locals, we learned more about the places we were visiting and connected to the landscape in more meaningful ways.

How might you put some of these ideas into practice in your domestic travels or daily life? Have you had an enriching experience by interacting with the locals where you are? Please share your stories.

Related Posts:

Birds of Prey

Wordless Wednesday: Seal Cove- Mount Desert Island, ME

Travel Tuesdays: Morocco

When my husband and I traveled to Morocco with friends, we visited some of the usual places. We toured Hassan II Mosque in Casablanca, navigated the medina in Fes, and rode the Marrakesh Express from Fes to Marrakesh. We also visited the neighborhood where my great-aunt lived before she married my mom's uncle and moved to the States.

Toward the end of our trip, a guide picked us up at our hotel in Marrakesh and drove us over the Atlas mountains, through the moving making- town of Ouarzazate (Movies such as The Mummy were filmed there) to the village of M'Hamid. We ate a late dinner, then loaded up a land rover and drove to our campsite in the Sahara Desert.  After sleeping on blankets on the sand, we packed our bags and set out on a camel trek. Exciting stuff, right? Sure enough. The stuff of great stories (Can you say runaway camel?) But here's the thing. The stories I most like to tell folks who want to hear the more intimate stories of Morocco involve moments of connection with the locals or my friends and husband, not stories of high adventure.

We made a point to get to know our guides. One guide was deaf, so we watched the signs they had developed to communicate (no ASL there) and did our best to communicate with him. One night after dinner, our guides gathered around a campfire a distance from us. One man had improvised an instrument- he was drumming on our water jug while the others sang along quietly in Arabic. We asked if we could join them. After a while, we shared that our friend used to be a drummer so he played some of his American rhythms on that same water jug. We also bonded with our friends while suffering from “Traveler’s D.” I know that sounds weird, but it’s true. Working through some level of adversity together can bring people together. I also reconnected with an exchange student who had lived here in Massachusetts 6 years before. My husband and I visited his home and met his wife and daughter.

One of my favorite moments, however, happened on our drive back to Ouarzazate. Our guide, Mokhtar, and I opted to sit in the way back seat of the land rover. Working with a mix of English, Arabic, and French words, we began telling each other our cultural stories. I wish I could remember all we shared that day. What I do remember is that it went something like this…

Mokhtar told a story. I said, “Oh! We have one like that!” and I told him a fairy tale from my childhood. Which lead him to a story from his childhood and so on. We went on like that for at least half an hour. It felt like time simultaneously raced ahead and slowed down to a crawl- what experts call “flow.” The storyteller in me was reinvigorated that day, for sure.

Mokhtar still has a special connection to our family. The night of the drumming, Mohktar gave us and our two friends Arabic names. The name he gave to me is the name we gave to our daughter. (People who know me personally, please note that I do not share my children’s names on this blog for safety/privacy reasons. Please don’t put it in the comments. Thanks.) 

Mokhtar started as our guide but became a friend. For years, we communicated via snail mail and email. Now we message or IM on Facebook.

So here’s my point. Sightseeing is nice, but don’t get sucked into the trap of racing from one attraction to another. We saw lots of tourists in Morocco. They’d arrive on giant tour buses clutching their purses, fearful of pickpockets, only to be herded from one site to another. I’d venture to say they left Morocco knowing no more about the country than when they arrived.

Slow down. Stop and meet the locals. Ask about what’s important to them. You’ll likely find their desires are the same as yours.

How about you? What stories do you have to share about meeting the locals in your home town or from across the globe?