These streets are best avoided,
they narrow to a bottleneck
that swarms with the wrong type
endlessly pounding the pavements
eagerly looking for their daily fix.

There is nothing in this world
that can save my worried soul
for here come the tourists.

Everywhere I look, tourists.
Smiles as wide as the Atlantic,
big shiny eyes full of wonder
and muscular camera holding necks.

Yellow rain-coated, baseball capped,
kilted, sock and sandal flaunting tourists
with questions inside questions on top of questions
about haggis, bag pipes, monsters and "lake Loch Ness".

"Can haggis fly? How big are they? 
Have you seen Nessie? Where's your kilt?
Say something Gaelic?"

"Amadain, Amadain" I tell them.
They ask me what it means.
"I am English, I am English", I reply 
and they shuffle off with a disappointed groan.


Note: Amadain is Gaelic for fools

"lake Loch Ness"

There's no joy greater than messing with tourists. Tourism is the major industry where I live, and of course we're all very friendly and welcoming (really, we are) because we're grateful for their interest in our otherwise pointless city where nothing happens away from the attractions.

My dad used to work in a service station and had loads of stories about visitors to our fair land, but one of my favourites is the American tourist who asked the best way to hike across Queensland "because I can hike across New York State in a day". Dad, not only smelling bullshit on the boast, thoughtfully gave him a mud map to Birdsville and told him it was a hard slog but most people could manage it in a bit over 20 hours.

It's true, of course. That's how long it took us to drive there.

Can haggis fly? How big are they?
Is genius
More please.

@Leanne, I hope the bloke knew how to survive on his own arm, rightly roasted, and a wee dram of pee a day

(06-03-2016, 04:37 AM)Leanne Wrote:   "lake Loch Ness"

There's no joy greater than messing with tourists.  Tourism is the major industry where I live, and of course we're all very friendly and welcoming (really, we are) because we're grateful for their interest in our otherwise pointless city where nothing happens away from the attractions.  

My dad used to work in a service station and had loads of stories about visitors to our fair land, but one of my favourites is the American tourist who asked the best way to hike across Queensland "because I can hike across New York State in a day".  Dad, not only smelling bullshit on the boast, thoughtfully gave him a mud map to Birdsville and told him it was a hard slog but most people could manage it in a bit over 20 hours.  

It's true, of course.  That's how long it took us to drive there.

I wish I could claim that I thought of "lake Loch Ness" myself but sadly I stole it from the tourists.

I do love the tourists really, without them Inverness would be quiet in the summer, but I just try my best to avoid them.

Thanks for reading,

Mark

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(06-03-2016, 06:23 AM)Achebe Wrote:  Can haggis fly? How big are they?
Is genius
More please.

@Leanne, I hope the bloke knew how to survive on his own arm, rightly roasted, and a wee dram of pee a day

These are the questions that you need to know the answers to before you go out Haggis Hunting or 'shopping' as it's more commonly known. You wouldn't want to go out ill equipped. 

Mark

 I was once one of those American tourists.  Though I had read enough George MacDonald not to make the "Loch" mistake and we were warned in advance about the haggis.   However, we were a high school folk dancing troupe from Kentucky with a leader whose pronunciation of "tour" rhymes with "cur" so I'm sure we probably wrecked our own special brand of havoc.  If it's any consolation, it was magical?

I loved this poem.  It's so true that as a tourist you forget that people actually live there year round.  Visiting such a well known place feels like visiting a movie set, everything looks just how it's supposed to, and the people walking around just seem like background extras to provide ambiance.  Or like when you visit a reenactment and the characters are going about pretend lives all for your viewing pleasure.  I would imagine it could get old.  But I also imagine it would be worth it to be neighbors with Nessie.  

(06-04-2016, 12:24 AM)Quixilated Wrote:    I was once one of those American tourists.  Though I had read enough George MacDonald not to make the "Loch" mistake and we were warned in advance about the haggis.   However, we were a high school folk dancing troupe from Kentucky with a leader whose pronunciation of "tour" rhymes with "cur" so I'm sure we probably wrecked our own special brand of havoc.  If it's any consolation, it was magical?

I loved this poem.  It's so true that as a tourist you forget that people actually live there year round.  Visiting such a well known place feels like visiting a movie set, everything looks just how it's supposed to, and the people walking around just seem like background extras to provide ambiance.  Or like when you visit a reenactment and the characters are going about pretend lives all for your viewing pleasure.  I would imagine it could get old.  But I also imagine it would be worth it to be neighbors with Nessie.  

Nessie isn't real you know Quix...
Errmm... Yeah, when I wrote this I thought of all the times that I was a tourist. The 18 year old me who was in Amsterdam wearing a bandana and a tie-dye t-shirt and holding a map looking terribly lost must have looked just as touristy, if not more, than the ones that I see now. I still can't believe that I didn't go to the Van Gogh museum in Amsterdam... Damn, I'll never forgive myself for that.

Thanks for reading,

Mark

ambrosial revelation - Tourists! They ask the same kind of questions in a small town like they do in a big city where I'm from. Patience sometimes evolves in strange ways. Enjoyed. Namyh