What Your Vacation Destination Says About You

Interests: Trying to pass as French, cafes, the film Amelie
Most Likely to be Overheard Asking: “Why isn’t anyone else wearing a beret?”

If Paris is your top vacation pick, then congratulations; you haven’t been scared away by those persistent rumors that all Parisians are rude and snobbish and like to eat their mid-morning baguette with the patted remains of non-French speakers.

You’re a lover of art and giant phallic-shaped towers … or just a lover in general? Actually, it probably means you’re a lover of Disney. According to the Global Attractions Attendance Report, more tourists visit Disney Paris each year than any other Parisian attraction (including the Louvre or the Eiffel Tower).

Interests: The beach, mai tais, posing for pictures with parrots
Most Likely to be Overheard Saying: “Let’s get lei’d, honey. Ha, get it? Lei?”

A five-hour flight from Los Angeles and an eight-hour flight from Tokyo means that Hawaii ain’t exactly in anyone’s backyard. It’s perhaps for this reason that you feel the need to pack enough supplies to keep all the characters on Lost alive for another season. You’ll haul that backpack of supplies around for the entirety of your nine-day vacation; no easy feat considering it’s stuffed to the brim with everything you deem essential for an outing in the tropics: sunscreen, bug repellent, a camera, a compass, a detailed map of each of the eight Hawaiian islands, a live aloe vera plant and an inflatable life raft.

Maybe it’s the idea of sunning on a tropical island with miles of salt water between you and the rest of civilization that scares you, but for reasons you don’t quite understand, just the thought of a Hawaiian vacation transforms you into a meticulous, hyper-organized girl scout—and a badly dressed one at that. Your idea of appropriate vacation attire is a baggy, Crayola-colored polo shirt, Bermuda shorts and white sneakers so hideously boxlike, people ask you why you’re wearing a pair of milk cartons.

Interests: Overcoming a quarter-life crisis, the book The Alchemist, Whole Foods
Most Likely to be Overheard Asking: Is this veg curry gluten-free?

Perhaps you were inspired to book your ticket after reading Eat, Pray, Love or maybe you spent one too many an afternoon in college listening to the Beatles in a cloud of purple haze, but whatever the reason, you’re no doubt a brave one. And no newbie to travel either.

You’ve already backpacked your way around Europe and spent a summer studying Spanish in Latin America. You’re no stranger to bed bugs or stomach troubles and have enough frequent flier miles to rival the money in your bank account. You have a favorite guidebook and yoga pose and speak fluent Spanglish.

Interests: Towel animals, line-dancing, group tours
Most Likely to be Overheard Asking: What time does the midnight buffet start?”

You may tell people that you booked that cruise to the Mexican Riviera because you love to travel and are interested in learning about Mexican culture, but nobody’s fooled. About the most of “Real Mexico” you hope to explore is the inside of a tequila factory.

Sure, you’ll sample some of the local fare ($12 tacos at Senior Frogs) and you’ll chat with the locals (the boat captain of your booze cruise, Jorge or Jose—you can’t remember now) and you’ll go home and when asked about where you went, you’ll say “Mexico,” but what you really mean is ‘the beach at “Cabo.” But none of that will matter because you’ll have the requisite photos (you on a jet ski, you wearing a sombrero, you drinking a watermelon-sized margarita), which you’ll immediately post on Facebook with titles like “Te-qui-la!” and “It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere.”

Interests: Your travel blog, your passport stamp collection, anything written by Paul Theroux
Most Likely to be Overheard Asking: How do I get to the real Thailand?

“I’m going to Mozambikistan,” you announce to your coworkers.
“Where’s that?” they ask, and you smile smugly at their confused looks.
“You’ve never heard of Mozambikistan?” You reply, feigning surprise.

Though you’d never admit it, you live for those little moments where you can rub into the faces of your uncultured and undertraveled coworkers that you, unlike them, are a Traveler (with a capital T).

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