For centuries, people have been ‘discovering’, ‘conquering’ and ‘doing’ countries and lands that are not their own. But does the language we use when talking about travel encourage an extractive approach to the actual act of travel? Laura Field finds out.
Whenever anyone proudly states that they’ve “done Thailand” or “done South America,” I’m left with multiple questions—and I’ve realized that these statements tell us absolutely nothing.
Did you go on a whirlwind backpacking trip for 10 days to see the highlights of Thailand? Or did you live there for six months? Whichever it was, what does having ‘done’ a place actually mean? Of course, many people simply say they’ve ‘been to’ or ‘seen’ a place, but a bucket-list culture has often led to tickbox travel and a sense of conquering different countries.
I grew up in North Yorkshire in the UK and can confidently say I have not ‘done’ or experienced everything in my county, let alone in England. As a child, I went with a friend and her parents on an overnight ferry from Hull to Amsterdam. We spent one day in the Dutch city before getting another ferry back home that evening. I’m reluctant to even say I’ve been to Amsterdam; I only spent a few hours there.
Making sweeping generalizations when speaking about our travels poses many problems. Using verbs like ‘explore’ and ‘discover’ implies a self-centered approach to travel, one where we as travelers are the stand-out protagonists instead of parts of a more nuanced whole.
These generalizations also extend to terms such as “like a local”. Lebawit Lily Girma, travel journalist and founder of Tourism Lens, a website that centers nature and host communities as key beneficiaries of travel, believes “like a local” is one of the most problematic phrases in travel storytelling.
Which local are we speaking about? A wealthy member of that community’s 1 percent or a less affluent majority having to contend with social or economic difficulties? “Let’s be specific,” says Girma. “Let’s mention which locals, let’s explain whether there’s a class divide and include the sociopolitical context.”
“Changing vocabulary by force is difficult. People don’t like being told to use a certain kind of language unless it becomes fashionable.”
- Professor Aditi Lahiri
Girma also brings to light the complicated language and approach to travel when it comes to digital nomadism. She asks: “Is it a form of settler colonialism? And are we part of that?”
Often places are hailed as havens for digital nomads because they’re described as being “cheap” and “safe.” Again, these are two very subjective terms. What it means to feel safe in a place varies depending on several factors like our physical appearance or the resources we have access to.
Having lived in Medellín, Colombia for three years, I watched my adopted city transform into a desirable hub for digital nomads; people typically earning in US dollars who can afford the city’s ever-increasing rent prices. These cost-of-living changes don’t consider Colombians earning in Colombian pesos. In 2023, the minimum wage in Colombia is COP$1,160,000 pesos (roughly USD$242). So apartments available to rent for USD $800 per month might be entirely accessible for dollar-earning foreigners but for Colombians earning lower salaries in pesos, this price point is exclusionary and therefore not ‘cheap’ in their context.
For travel bloggers and creators of Along Dusty Roads, Andrew and Emily, ‘cheap’ is a word “that we try our best to avoid generally as it’s a relative term—both among travelers and between locals versus visitors. We try to instead focus on affordability or value.” Recognizing that our perceptions of a place are relative and altering our language accordingly helps to avoid vacuous, generalizing statements.
We can also say a lot without even using many words. The frequent misspelling of ‘Colombia’, often written by English speakers as ‘Columbia,’ also speaks volumes in terms of how travelers view the South American country. If we don’t take care to spell a country’s name correctly, that suggests a limited respect for a place.
“Changing vocabulary by force is difficult. People don’t like being told to use a certain kind of language unless it becomes fashionable,” says Aditi Lahiri, Research Professor of Linguistics at the University of Oxford. She notes that language is part of our environment and evolves with us. So, as she points out, the travelogs of Charles Darwin reflect what he personally experienced and was interested in, but don’t necessarily show an understanding of the communities where he spent time.
When it comes to word choice, it’s interesting that Spanish speakers use the verb ‘conocer’ (to know) when talking about whether they’ve traveled to a place before—the same verb that’s used to describe knowing a person. It implies a more profound experience than saying we’ve “done” a place in English. Professor Lahiri also notes that when speaking Bengali, she would most naturally describe having “become familiar with” or “met” a place when she talks about travel. To me, these seem like terms that more truly reflect our experiences as travelers. As visitors to a place, we are in a constant state of familiarizing ourselves, like we would with a new person in our lives.
“Writing and talking about travel should create curiosity and provide useful insight,” reiterate Andrew and Emily from Along Dusty Roads, “while laying the groundwork for a respectful, responsible approach to future adventures, experiences, and interactions.” Lebawit Lily Girma puts it simply when she says that ultimately, “Tourism was born as a colonial activity.”
Outside of the extractive, colonialist approach to travel, Indigenous communities historically traveled due to a basic need for food, shelter, or a warmer climate. This is the essence of travel that we need to return to today; moving through the world in line with the communities we visit—and not taking away from them.
How we speak about travel does affect how we travel because our language is a reflection of our personal experience. We must recognize that travel is a mutual exchange and give our descriptions of travel full color and context. Sweeping terms only serve to narrow the mind.
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Based in Buenos Aires, Laura is a trilingual travel writer and journalist specializing in Latin America. Her interests lie in food, wellness, culture, artisan craft, adventure, social impact and stories of regeneration.
