We all make different imprint

Neon fanny pack not included I’m a tourist. As much as I try to avoid that classification, I can’t help it if I want to walk across the Charles Bridge or have a Euro Hot-Dog from the stand outside Tesco. If I make it to Paris, I’m going to see the Eiffel Tower, because that’s what people do. Millions of people walk up the Great Wall of China; they pretend to hold up the Leaning Tower of Pisa, they visit the Pilsner Factory and drink a lot of beer. The first thing I did in Prague was walk down to the Charles Bridge and take photos. I fought my way through the crowds, grumbled, and then slung my arm around a statue and said cheese. I joined the ranks of the tourists that I swore I wasn’t going to be like and then suddenly found that I was. While these experiences may not be authentic, how can authenticity be defined? The only way to truly have an authentic experience is to actually be a part of the culture. While in Prague, I eat a lot of goulash, but I order it in English. While goulash may be authentic, speaking English is not. It is in these moments, where cultures collide, that a balance is struck. In my travels, I’ve had a lot of experiences. I can’t think of anyone else who had to strip down naked and be massaged by a Hungarian man at a bath in Budapest and feel the way I felt about it. I saw a lot of people skiing down the Swiss Alps last weekend, but every single one of us fell in a different part of the slope—we left our imprint in a different place. That is what makes an experience authentic to you—millions of people in the same place, at the same time, sometimes doing the same thing, but at the end of the day, when we’re sharing drinks, a bag of chips and travel stories, everyone’s voice sounds different.