Touristish

In probability theory, there is a term: mutually exclusive. When you have two events that cannot possibly both happen, we say the two events are mutually exclusive. For example, if I flip a coin and one event is that the coin lands heads and the other is that the coin lands tails, these events are mutually exclusive. They cannot both happen on one flip of a coin.

For an example of two events which are not mutually exclusive, consider this scenario. You are the stage manager of a play. Event A is that all the actors listen perfectly and there is never any conflict or tension. Event B is that you enjoy being stage manager of the production. These can (and often have) both occur. In fact, I find the probability of event A is very high, and the probability of event B is even higher.

In our current travels as digital nomads, it is not our intention to be tourists. We want so much more than just seeing the sights. We want to experience the people: how they live, what’s similar or different. We want to experience the lifestyle: how are homes set up, how are neighborhoods set up. Of course, only being in a place for a few weeks means you cannot fully know what life is like there. But we can know more than just the major sites and (if it is a true tourist trap) the fudge confectioners.

This being said, being more than just tourists and doing some of the traditional tourist activities are not mutually exclusive. (Aren’t you glad I defined my terms at the beginning.) I remember when we lived in the New York City area and some of the lifelong residents had never been to the Statue of Liberty or the Empire State Building. In a way, I get it. This is your city, you don’t think anything of those sites. But on the other hand, you are missing some pretty cool things and you don’t even have to go far to get to them.

We don’t want to miss the cool things just because we want to experience other things in addition. That’s why we have been touristish, not exactly tourists, but not shying away from it either.

On the way to Syracuse, New York, we passed through Niagara Falls. Syarra had never seen it, and it has been many years since Alrica and I enjoyed that wonder of nature. So we stopped. We saw the falls. And we took the Journey to the Falls. It’s a boat that takes you right up to Horseshoe Falls so you get sprayed by the mist of the thundering water. You also go past American Falls and get amazing views of it.

American Falls from the Pier

You may have heard of the Maid of the Mist. That’s the name of the corresponding boat that leaves from the U.S. side of the falls. We took the one that leaves from the Canadian side, Journey to the Falls.

Humans are a strange species. Who else would say, “Wow! I know that is a very dangerous natural phenomenon. Let’s find a way to get spectacularly close to it.” And yet, I am very glad we did it. I can’t explain in words what it is to hear the constant but varying sound of the falls crashing down. I can’t describe the feeling of the mist hitting you, not quite like rain. Nor can I explain the sight where you look at the falls but you can’t see the middle of them because there is just so much spray in the area that it is a blur, a haze. (Okay, I did put all of that in words, but those words pale next to the reality.)

Now Alrica and I are in Kingston, Ontario. The city is situated on the north shore of Lake Ontario, right where the lake drains into the St. Lawrence River. About 12,000 years ago, glaciers that were over a mile wide came through this area and carved lows and highs. After the glaciers receded, water filled in the lows. The result is islands, so many islands, here at the beginning of the St. Lawrence River. The river itself is eight miles wide at some points. And there are big islands, tiny islands, in between islands. This region is aptly named the 1000 Islands region.

To be precise, there are more than one thousand islands, though the exact count is up for debate. It depends on where you draw the line between an island and a shoal. Everyone seems to agree that an island must be at least one square foot in area, and it must stay above water year round. However, there is some disagreement regarding foliage. Some say that to be an island, the landmass must be capable of supporting one tree. (By this definition there are 1864 islands.) But others require the heftier qualification of being able to support two trees. (By that definition there are 1836 islands.) Regardless, both are greater than 1000. I guess calling it the Somewhere Between Eighteen-hundred Thirty-six and Eighteen-hundred Sixty-four Islands region would be unruly. Or less poetic.

We did not want to come this close to such a spectacle and then not see it. So once again, Alrica and I boarded a boat. And we took a three hour tour of the 1000 Islands. (It ended better than the three hour tour mentioned in the Gilligan’s Island theme song.) We learned about the bridge to nowhere. It is a series of five spans that crosses from New York to Ontario. When it was being built, it didn’t connect any major cities and that’s what locals called it. Now it connects Interstate 81 and Canadian Highway 401 and is a major border crossing.

Tiny Island

We saw the spectacular Boldt Castle, built by hotelier George Boldt for his wife Louise. But Louise died shortly before he was going to present it to her and he never returned to the castle or to Heart Island again.

Boldt Castle

We learned about shipwrecks in the St. Lawrence, and there are many. We couldn’t see the ships under the water, but they showed us sonar images and maps of where they went down.

Most of all, we saw the majesty of nature, which, as it so often does, carves and forms beautiful landscapes.

It’s okay to be a tourist. In fact, the probability is high that we’d be disappointed if we didn’t do some of the tours and see some of the sights. And ideally, travels and disappointment should be mutually exclusive.