If the difference between a traveler and a tourist is that “a traveler doesn’t know where he’s going, and a tourist doesn’t know where he is,” than what is the difference between a tourist and an anti-tourist?
Anti-tourism is a phrase that has been coined by author Daniel Kalder, whose book Lost Cosmonaut will be out in the States this August. Anti-tourists, according to Kalder, embrace a different type of travel altogether. They shirk from guided tours, concierges, Parisian cafes, room service, and chocolates on their pillows. Anti-tourists embrace the down-and-dirty of travel, sucking life’s grittiest experiences from the marrow of this planet’s “urban blackspots” where “ordinary people choose to avoid.” They mock the Pyramids of Egypt and other pseudo-adventurous tourist destinations that have become “as banal and familiar” as a box of cornflakes.
Kalder has posted a series of anti-tourist resolutions on his website that are both masochistic and admirable at the same time. These governing bylaws dictate the travel mantra of the anti-tourist. Some of them I wholeheartedly agree with (The anti-tourist believes beauty is in the street) while others I don’t (The anti-tourist embraces hunger and hallucinations).
Kalder’s new book, which I hope to review in the near future, is a testament to such philosophy as it chronicles his travel adventures through some of the more fascinating, but nastier armpits of Russia.