Dear Seth, You're a (Fill in Here) Do either of these Zagat-style summaries remind you of a certain travel writer you know? 1) "Ignorant and provincial" and "not ready for prime time," his "boring and uninspiring" writing overuses "tired tropes of the white middle class." "What planet does this guy live on?" 2) "Living my dream life," he uses "a light touch and comprehensive approach" and tells tales "in a delightful way," "so funny - AND informative." "The Apostle Paul couldn't have said it better." They're both me, as described by commenters on this blog. I've spent a few days looking back over about a year's worth of reader reactions to pull an Ed Koch-style "How'm I doing?" and see what responses I might give. The editors who review all comments before they go up let most of them go through, eliminating only those that are vulgar, nonsensical or completely off-topic. For a while I suspected they also blocked comments that praised my dashing good looks, but that turns out not to be true. But even so, unlike what is normally seen in the comments posted underneath the writings of political columnists, stinging invective and occasional praise form just two categories of reader reaction to the Frugal Traveler's work. There are also tips on what to do at the destination, personal stories that the article jogged from readers' memories and the occasional unpaid advertisement, mildly disguised as friendly advice. The reader stories range from wonderful reminiscences worthy of their own article to blabfests in need of an editor's touch. The reader tips are often fantastic - and if you don't read them, you should. Sometimes they are tips I couldn't quite fit in the piece - the useful What's App application for free messaging around the world, for example, got mentioned in my smartphones posting last week - and other times they recommend stuff I kick myself for not being aware of beforehand, like when multiple readers noting Robert K. Massie's 1981 Pulitzer Prize-winning "Peter the Great" and recent "Catherine the Great" were required reading before a trip to St. Petersburg. Most frequently, though, they share tips on restaurants and walks and tours and hotels that fill in some gaps in my write-up - sometimes they're unaffordable on the Frugal budget but worth noting; other times they are wisdom from people who have spent much more time at a destination than I could ever hope to. For a recent Martha's Vineyard piece, for example, suggestions from readers included the jeep tour of Cape Pogue on Chappaquiddick Island, renting a kayak on Wind's Up, eating at State Road (warning: expensive!) staying at the youth hostel few outsiders know is there (warning: snoring 20-year-olds). My favorite, though, was a most frugal eating suggestion: lunch at the Anchors, a senior center in Edgartown. It's $2 on Tuesday (for a sandwich, salad and dessert) and $5 on Fridays (for a hot entree with sides, dessert and coffee). I'll bet it comes from with a grand dose of conversation as well. "Come see us sometime," wrote Paul Mohair, administrator of the Edgartown Council on Aging. Regarding the praise, some of it is undeserved, but all of it is appreciated. But the critiques are far more entertaining, enraging and enriching, ranging from thoughtful and constructive to ones that prompt blood pressure spikes and imaginary arguments in the shower with readers. On the thoughtful side, in my St. Petersburg article, for example, I reveled in buying CCCP hammer-and-sickle-embossed underwear I found at a flea market. But several readers thought it callous to celebrate the symbol they associated with Stalin, who "was directly responsible for the deaths of tens of millions of innocent people and the brutal occupation of much of Europe for half a century," wrote James from New Zealand. I honestly had not thought of that. To me "CCCP" and the red-and-yellow symbol evoke childhood cold war memories, and supporting our ex-enemy through donning their boxer briefs seemed a harmlessly campy act of anachronistic irony. But I certainly see the commenters' point, and I'm glad to have the added perspective. On the other hand, I still love the skivvies, especially since when I wear them, no one even knows they are there (much like my Vlad the Impaler tattoo). I also appreciate it when readers inform me that they have had different experiences interacting with various cultures. One reader did not find Russians as warm as I did. And many protested my characterization of Scandinavia as "not overtly friendly" and its people as a bit standoffish. It was also a reader who alerted me that Finland is often not considered part of Scandinavia, an issue I had no idea about but mentioned from then on. Then there are, alas, the criticisms that I find - let's just say unfortunate. Quite often, they come when I unleash what I consider an honest and direct, if generalized, characterization of a country. I definitely get into trouble with my sense of humor - which is definitely American. And despite the penetration of our sitcoms throughout the known universe, not everyone everywhere appreciates it. And plenty of people get it but think it's not funny. Six months ago I wrote a short posting noting things I noticed about New Zealand during my first-ever trip there. People there are quite often barefoot, for example. They use terms like "trim milk" instead of "skim milk" and "fine weather" instead of "clear weather." Pedestrian walk signals for the blind resemble 1980s video games. There was a lot of protest from commenters, including some good points about slight inaccuracies. Fantastic - these were, after all, quick reactions and not researched conclusions. But an outraged JL noted that "this article is already being passed round with great mirth among New Zealanders the world over as an example of how ignorant and provincial Americans can be. How does someone get to write a travel piece in a major newspaper when they clearly haven't ever left home before? JL found it astounding that I would misunderstand the meaning of "fine" weather (I didn't think I had) and felt that I was somehow against restaurant menus that gave prices that included tax and service. Actually, JL, I love the all-fees-included approach and later suggested that our own presidential candidates make it national policy. More recently, people went bonkers when I warned American travelers that Brazilians were a "wonderful people who speak terrible English," a conclusion drawn from many years of travel around Brazil and written to encourage travelers to learn a bit of Portuguese before they left. But some Brazilian commenters were upset, writing either that we Americans are no good at foreign languages ourselves, or that I was wrong about how bad their English was. Not a surprise that there was little complaint my overgeneralization of their people as "wonderful." "What a stupid prejudiced thought!" wrote Lily, from Brazil. Nowadays almost everyone in Brazil knows English, learning it since 6 or 7. Everyone I met here knows English pretty well. All I can say is that Lily must have never tried to chat in English with those who staff the tourist information booth at Belém International Airport (a major gateway to the Amazon). And let's not even get started about airline pilots. Other people, like Joze Peres of Brazil, didn't quite get the point. "Why do you think Brazilians, or any other people who are not native English speakers, have any obligation to speak English?" he wrote. I don't respond to online comments (preferring to interact with readers through tweets and e-mails), but quite often I don't have to, because the commenting community seems to self-police very quickly whenever someone says something unreasonable. Here's how Liz M., an English teacher in Madrid, responded to Joze: This article is for 'budget travelers' who probably don't travel often outside of the States because this kind of travel is extremely expensive and time-consuming; they may lack the experience to know that it is not realistic to expect a high level of spoken English in other countries. The author of the article simply meant to encourage travelers to make an effort to learn some Portuguese. Go Liz! But over all, most criticism is valuable and interesting and proves that I'm quite often overmatched in my knowledge of places I visit. That I humbly admit, and am thankful to the many thoughtful readers out there who raise the issues.