Is Age the Difference Between Travel and Tourism? Young Women Travel, Older Ones Just Tour?
Over the past decade and more, I've traveled to many cities each year, stayed in plenty of youth hostels, and made friends along the way. Whenever I chat with fellow strangers on the road, the question “What’s the difference between tourism and travel?” inevitably comes up. In 2021, I found myself discussing this in Chongqing, Guangzhou, Dali, Lhasa, Kashgar, Korla, and Yining – sometimes prompted by others, sometimes initiated by me.
On the winding ancient Panlong road in Tashikurgan, Kashgar, Xinjiang, at 4,000 meters above sea level on the Pamir Plateau, with wind and snow howling, a kind elder sister sharing my chartered car suggested I should wear a proper windbreaker for frequent trips. I told her I rarely wear hiking jackets or pants, and almost never use a multifunctional headscarf or sunglasses. Even my DSLR camera, which I use often, is almost never hung around my neck in unfamiliar places; instead, I wrap the strap around my wrist and keep the camera in my bag when not shooting. I do this not out of safety concerns – after all, nowhere in the world is as safe as China. It's to minimize my visibility, to hide the “tourist outsider” label I might carry.
I often wander around local markets and near school areas, and love stepping into narrow alleys of old town quarters. Places filled with the bustle of daily life appeal to me far more than noisy scenic spots and commercial streets. I always feel that wearing a windbreaker and sunglasses with a camera around your neck makes you the center of attention wherever you go. That image would spoil the scenes and atmosphere I seek, much like those invasive street shots in photography where the lens is thrust in someone's face. Although the startled or surprised expression of the subject looks incredibly real and dramatic, that’s not what I'm after. Perhaps this kind of journey that satisfies my spiritual needs is what differentiates travel from tourism.
Some say the simplest distinction between tourism and travel is age: young people travel, and once you're older, it's tourism. Indeed, we often see tour groups full of silver-haired friends who, no matter the destination, take photos, eat, and then shop till they drop.
I once went on a day trip from Dongxing Port in Guangdong across to Mangshi City in Vietnam. We set off as two small combined groups. Our group had a female guide leading seven of us; the oldest was 39 and the average age was 30. The other group, with a male guide, consisted of six uncles and aunties averaging over 60. The whole trip lasted just over three hours and included five shopping stops. In our group, only the oldest guy bought two mattress pads, a young lady bought a bag of fruit, and the rest of us shared a fast-food meal together. The uncles and aunties in the other group bought necklaces, herbal medicine, clothes – all sorts of things we saw – and ordered several dishes for their meal. Our female guide kept telling us, “I know you won’t buy anything, just cooperate and wander around for three minutes.” The male guide for the other group said over and over, “Everyone, think carefully before you buy – we’re abroad, returns will be a headache.” We looked indifferent, they brimmed with enthusiasm. We wore blank faces, they beamed with joy. We returned empty-handed, they came back loaded.
This was one of the very few group tours I’ve ever taken. Regulations for border day trips required a guided tour, making this a memorable experience. Were we young people different from those uncles and aunties? Was their trip tourism while ours was travel? No, I think we were all tourists! At least I certainly was. That day I had planned to travel from Nanning to Beihai, and during the daytime I wanted to see Dongxing Port. After checking transportation and costs, I realized that no matter which route I took, it would be long and expensive. I’d need to go to Fangchenggang, then Dongxing, back to Fangchenggang, and finally Beihai. So I simply booked the day trip from Nanning to Vietnam’s Mangshi City. Early morning we gathered in Nanning, took a bus to Dongxing, visited the port, then went to Mangshi, and in the evening I could take the tour company’s bus to Beihai. I didn’t have to worry about transport at all, got from Nanning to Beihai in one day, and even squeezed in a quick international trip. The cost fit my budget, and apart from the boredom of waiting for buses and border formalities, it was almost perfect. I achieved my goal and satisfied my requirements – yet I still wouldn’t call that travel.
For many people, the so-called spiritual need of travel is something very abstract. Same itinerary, different behaviors – is just looking without shopping or spending money really travel? What constitutes inner fulfillment? The shopping uncles and aunties on that tour were just as fulfilled, at least they looked far happier than we did. In the second half of the trip, we shuffled into shopping stops like mules without thought, our eyes empty, at moments even regretting signing up for the day trip. We might have been younger than them, but age doesn’t define whether you’re a tourist or a traveler!
On another journey into the desert, several women who shared my chartered car had all been traveling solo for a long time. Two left the deepest impression: one was a young woman, about 30, and the other a woman in her sixties. The young woman carried a DSLR with a 50mm prime lens, wore a long red dress, and looked very artsy. The older woman casually slung a shoulder bag and stayed mostly quiet. At a town nearly a hundred kilometers from the desert, we stopped to eat and stock up. The driver and I stressed several times to take plenty of water into the desert since we would spend a full day in a remote, uninhabited area. I bought two large bottles of iced tea and two bottles of water, and I saw the young woman go in and out of the same convenience store several times.
Passing through a poplar forest in the Gobi, we pulled over to take photos. The young woman hummed English songs I didn’t recognize, struck many poses, and kept emphasizing her love for silhouettes. As soon as we entered the desert, she was the first to complain of thirst and asked if anyone had extra water to share. Astonished, we asked why she’d gone into the store so many times without buying water; she said she’d only bought a small cup of yogurt. My habit is to drink enough before setting off and only take small sips along the way to avoid getting too dry without urgently needing a restroom. By then I’d drunk most of my iced tea, with only unopened bottled water left, but I still reluctantly shared some with her – when you meet on the road, you help as you can. The older woman said very little the whole way and seemed almost shy when we took photos of her. Long after we returned, she asked me for a few of the pictures I’d taken, saying she needed them to illustrate her writing. That’s when I learned she loved to write, recording her travel experiences and insights to publish in newspapers.
Same journey, two different personalities – were they tourists or travelers? I’d say the young woman was a fake traveler but a real tourist, while the older woman was a fake tourist but a real traveler. Spiritual gain comes from accumulation and growth, not from a momentary appearance of being artsy. Traveling for the sake of appearing to travel has already betrayed the original intention of travel – that’s tourism. Conversely, letting go completely to be a tourist yet returning spiritually full is, in fact, genuine travel!
We have all been young, and we will all grow old. When young, we all yearn to set out, just as in old age we all yearn to come home. We may dream of being on the road, or realize that dream and actually walk it. Back in the day, my greatest desire was to go to Tibet, to Lhasa. Now, when my child has learned the old song "Return to Lhasa" from our era, I have already been there.
When I was young, I played guitar, wrote love poems, and studied photography. I thought I was so artistic. Now, wherever I go, excitement comes harder, and even the most unfamiliar places rarely feel fresh. I know I’ve changed, because I’ve grown up. I no longer fuss over whether it’s tourism or travel. Every journey I take has its purpose. When I return home with that purpose fulfilled and my heart content, I figure that’s enough!
