There are those who take pictures, and then there are those who make memories. Tourists take pictures because they do not have the time to etch the scene into their minds. There is always a bus to catch, or a reservation to meet. So they take pictures and move on from one sight to the next as the tour bus moves on. In this way the tourist is much more likely to see the entire world before the traveler. They are organized. They are well rested because they sleep in hotels, and they are well fed because they eat in the whatever towns best restaurants. They move from city to city without ever seeing the land between cities. They pass the unimportant by and rush to the next destination. Because a tourist is on a schedule. They are always two days from the beginning or the end of the vacation and there is so much to see, and so little time.
Time is, after all, what separates the tourist from the traveler. The traveler has time. They don't have jobs to return to and they are not on vacation. They do not come to see a sight, but to experience a culture. They may not know many languages but they do know many phrases in foreign tongues and they take pride in speaking with proper accents. A traveler searches for stories and not pictures. They remember smells, sounds and faces, and are never content with where they are. A traveler is always running, always searching and will become uneasy if they are in one place for too long. That is the curse of the traveler. He is incapable of stability. No matter how much a traveler may enjoy a city, he will never be able to stay. The road is the home of the traveler. A traveler works when he needs too, and travels when he doesn't.
The majority of us are tourists whether we like it or not. We take pictures and stay in hotels. It's easier that way. We buy round trip tickets and read books on how not to be tourist. We got inside tips and take the back roads. We read about secret gems that are tucked away in the neighborhoods of big cities. But this only gives us the illusion of being a traveler. A fleeting feeling of freedom that is destroyed the moment we open our mouths to talk about it, and find out how many other people have been there too.