A Tourist in Disguise: Part 1

Every so often, I’d like to share good writing from around the island…here’s a series of essays from San Juan Preservation Trust’s photography intern Jane Fox, who has lived in the islands this summer. Here’s round one:

A Tourist in Disguise I, by Jane Fox

I hate being a tourist. I’m terrible at it. I hate being so conspicuously foreign. I hate standing out in my leisure clothes amongst those dressed for a day’s work. I hate getting cheerfully lost and asking directions in a way that says ‘ I have the time to get lost’. I know that the local who then gives me directions is thinking dark thoughts about ‘another stupid tourist’. Now I admit, this is a grumpy way to be, but I’m from Scotland. We’re all grumpy.

Thus when traveling, I set myself a small challenge. To become part of the scenery, to blend in. To look, in fact, like a local.

So far I’ve had moderate success at the ‘walk like a local’ challenge. However this is largely due to the fact that my travels tend towards northern Europe. I fitted in Paris because I wore a trench coat and scowled. I fitted in Germany because I drank beer at the bar and scowled. I fitted in Finland because I didn’t wear one hundred layers of clothing in May, and yes, I scowled. Generally scowling is a good disguise. It has a touch of the old-world fatigue. A discontent with one’s own country that comes from the heart of a true local.

Even when I moved to Boston and spent time on the eastern seaboard, a scowl helped. It displayed my weary ease with the subways, and with local life. I knew I had made it when, as I was scowling at the crowds on the Boston T one day, an equally scowling woman turned to me and said, ‘damn tourists’. My heart leaped as my brow creased, and we happily scowled at each other all the way back to Brookline.

So when I got offered a job in the San Juan Islands, I felt up to the challenge. I packed my bags, flexed my frown and headed to Seattle. I was to spend a few days there before heading to the islands, and thought that in that time I could tweak my expression to the mood of the north west. Within three hours, however, I knew there was a problem. I stuck out. For one thing, everyone seemed to smile more. A black expression no longer marked me out as a local, but as a crosspatch or, as I was to find out, something much worse. Saturday saw my friend and I at the theatre, and as we were leaving with the weekend crowds I caught her looking at me. She seemed puzzled.
‘What?’ I said.
‘Oh, I don’t know’ she said,
‘You just look…different from everyone.’
‘Different? I said
‘Yea…you look… European.’
My scowl froze on my face.
‘I beg your pardon?’ I swallowed, fearing the worst.
‘Are you saying I look like a…tourist?’
‘Well yea’, said my friend. Smiling sweetly. My scowl fainted with the shock.

So when, a few days later, it was time leave the Issaquah Ferry for the Orcas landing, my face didn’t know what to do. I already had a funny accent, pronounced ‘aluminum’ and ‘oregano’ wrong, and found the concept of twist off beer bottle tops totally fascinating. I also had no definite place to live, no car and no friends. In other words, I was a total foreigner.

However standing next to the landing store, waiting for my ride, the fact that I could no longer indulge in a scowl got me thinking. Deprived of my fail-safe method of integration, what was the best way to walk like a local? My friend had not been able to articulate what it was about me that was so European,

‘You just are’ she said. Smiling sweetly. So what would it take?

My ride was late, so I put my pack down and sat on it. Pulling out a note pad I made the resolution that in the weeks that followed this note pad would be filled with things-that-make-you-local. I had no idea what that could be, but whatever it was, I would find it, cultivate it, and be walking like a San Juan local by the end of the summer. My ride was late but for once, I didn’t care. I was a damn tourist and I had time to sit around. Contented to be a foreigner for now, I broke all my rules. I smiled.

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Guess who...in disguise

Jane Fox comes to the islands from Scotland. She’s working as an intern for the San Juan Preservation Trust, for whom she has made videos & shot beautiful photos for their outreach materials over the past few months.

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