We are not just tourists when we travel, we are tour-istas.  We always take the tour, whether it’s a free walking tour of a new city, an historic house tour, or even the host’s tour of their house.  I have been a tour guide myself in many places across the decades: I created architecture tours for schoolchildren in upstate New York and Richmond, Virginia; helped develop and give tours of a mid-20th-century house and landscape in the Hudson River Valley; started a business doing design-related field trips in the New York City area; spent over seven years as a tour guide at Monticello.  So I know how tours should work, how they can enliven the experience of a place, or how they can equally deaden it.   

On our trip through the Deep South, we did a LOT of tours.  Through a range of tour types, we got insights into the places themselves, but also a lot of things to think about in terms of how our experience of a place is determined by who shows it to us, and what they are telling us.  From giving tours and taking them, it has become very clear to me that these guided experiences have an outsized effect on our travel and its takeaways.  

In one day on our recent trip we ended up having three separate tours of gorgeous antebellum homes, one in the morning where we had stayed the night before in Vicksburg, and two in Natchez, including the daily 4 pm tour for guests at Choctaw Hall, an 1836 Greek Revival confection brimming with the antiques collected over generations by the family of one of the owners.  (Tours of this house, including a weekly busload of people from the Viking cruise that ties up on Tuesdays in Natchez, are part of the business model here.)   I will admit that even for me, that was a lot of old houses; by the end of that day, I couldn’t remember which double parlor had the Confederate uniforms hanging by the windows and which mansion had all of the original gasoliers from Philadelphia.  

We had a full day tour of a pristine wilderness in South Carolina including the island formerly owned by Ted Turner and now owned by the State.  Thornton, who led the tour, lovingly and quietly shared with us the wildlife and plant life we encountered, calling each and every one “unique” and telling us how important it is to preserve these kinds of special places.  When we embarked at the island from his boat, he said “Welcome to paradise.  At least, for me it is paradise, and I hope you find it to be as well.”  

At Pin Point, a cultural center of the Gullah-Geechee people, as well as at the Wormsloe Plantation site, both outside Savannah, we didn’t have tours exactly, but there were people designated to answer questions, and oh dear that is an opportunity I cannot pass up, so we spent a lot of time just talking with these well-informed people, so devoted to their work and its importance.  We found a wonderful audio tour to download while we were in Seaside, Florida (about which we will have more to say), where the notable architects of some of the buildings described their design intentions. 

In Charleston, we took a delightful and in-depth 3-hour history tour with Eric, who shared that he gave up full-time university teaching in order to give more tours, because it is just “more fun.”

In Savannah, we had an architecture-focused tour with Jonathan.  I, of course, never think there can be too much discussion of brick bonds or cast-versus-wrought iron, but even the rest of our group, including our friends Mark and Lee from Virginia with whom we met up for a couple of days, found it interesting. 

In St. Augustine, we had responded to an email from an enterprising senior at Flagler College named Chase, who writes to all of the guests who book at the inn where we stayed, offering a guided tour of the town.  Chase was charming and knowledgeable, and although her tour wasn’t as scholarly as some of the others we have taken, it made up for it in just plain adorable earnestness. 

It was in New Orleans and vicinity that we had perhaps the widest array of tours.  We were there with our daughter-in-law’s parents (shouldn’t there be a term for that?) Roger and Diane Gray, and one of the best parts of being with them is that they are as game for tours as we are (and Diane is also a tour guide, so between the two Diane/Diannes we gave all of our guides a run for their money).  We did a walking tour of the French Quarter to start things off and we all agreed that while the guide did get some things wrong (including who won the French and Indian War and that the Battle of New Orleans was actually fought after the War of 1812 was over and didn’t “end it”), he gave us a good overview of the city. 

We also did a “Ghost Tour,” which seems to be de rigeur in most tourist cities these days.  It was mostly interesting for the rather ginned-up stories of crime and weirdness, and to watch the bored affect of the guide, who was dressed in–natch–all black, with a vague historic creepiness vibe.

We did a Swamp Boat tour too, where our guide tossed marshmallows to the sleepy alligators just emerging from their winter brumination (new term for me!) and we sped through bayous, marshes, and swamps, learning the difference between them.  

The next day, we went out of town to two of the many plantations nearby, where we had even more tour adventures.  First up was Whitney Plantation, which I highly recommend for its in-depth treatment of the experience of the enslaved, but where we had one of those guide experiences that makes you want to weep for the lost opportunity.  Our guide had a lot to say, and he said it all in a rapid-fire monotone that was so hard to follow that even I, the most devoted tour guest ever, tuned out.  Diane Gray gently asked him off to the side if he could possibly slow down, because some of us were having trouble understanding him, but alas that apparently just wasn’t possible.  

Then we went to Houmas, a gorgeous house where you feel you are just dropping in for a visit with an eccentric friend, because the owner lives there and even has his meals in the lovely restaurant where we had dinner.  At Houmas, we were greeted by our young hoop-skirted guide, an intern who was learning her tour, along with her boss and also her mother. The tour group felt like a sort of house party as they graciously put up with all of our questions and comments, and we were so impressed by our young guide’s abilities that I couldn’t help murmuring to her mother that she must be so proud of her daughter’s dedication to learning history and getting it right.  “She is an old soul,” the mother shared.  The guides invited anyone who wished to, to play the historic piano, and Diane did so, just bringing us even more into the deep atmosphere of the place.  Notably, although the plantation’s entire history was enmeshed in the institution of slavery, the only time that was mentioned was when one of us specifically asked about it.  

A guest on the tour in Charleston commented to Joey that even though one only remembers 30-40% of what is heard on tours, it is still so worthwhile to do them, and I couldn’t agree more with both parts of that statement.  Who gives the tour, who has trained them, what the interpretive message is meant to be, how accurate their facts are, all impact the particular experience.  But for me, there is no better way to get introduced to a place than to take a tour.  I won’t remember all the facts I learned, but the hoop skirts, bags with old maps printed out and laminated, the loving attention to a place and its residents, and earnest care in sharing a fascinating history, will remain with me forever.