Practice English Reading Exercises for B2 – Travel Writing & Approaches 1

Exercises:   123456

Reading 1

You are going to read an article about four professional travel writers explaining why they strictly refuse to read guidebooks before visiting a new city to preserve their fresh perspective.

For questions 1-10, choose from the people/sections (A-D). The people/sections may be chosen more than once.

Which person/section

1   deliberately welcomes the sensation of being geographically disoriented?

2   argues that reading ahead ruins the visual impact of discovering a new place?

3   admits a past disappointment caused them to alter their travel habits?

4   prefers to verify factual information only after concluding their exploration?

5   depends on the spontaneous advice of the local population to find interesting spots?

6   implies that heavily promoted establishments lack genuine cultural flavor?

7   feels burdened by the expectation to recreate iconic promotional shots?

8   treats the urban landscape as a puzzle to be solved independently?

9   experiences a thrill of accomplishment upon locating a place ignored by the media?

10   points out that rigid schedules cause tourists to overlook unplanned discoveries?

Going Off the Grid: Why We Leave the Guidebooks at Home

A Liam

For me, the most exhilarating part of arriving in a new capital is the absolute freedom of having an open agenda. If you are constantly checking a guidebook to see what’s next on your rigid schedule, you inevitably end up walking right past the hidden alleyways and spontaneous street performances that make a destination truly unique. I actively seek out the feeling of being completely unguided. While some travellers panic when they don’t know their exact whereabouts, I deliberately embrace it. When I reach a crossroads without a map, I simply ask a local resident or a shopkeeper for their personal recommendation. Relying on this spontaneous advice from the people who actually live there has led me to incredible, authentic experiences that no printed page could ever provide. I used to think I needed to plan every minute, but I quickly came to terms with the fact that true adventure begins when you toss the manual away.

B Maya

As a professional travel photographer, my primary reason for avoiding guidebooks is highly visual. If I flip through pages of glossy, heavily edited images before I arrive, my brain unconsciously adopts those preconceived clichés. It completely spoils the raw, emotional impact of seeing a stunning monument or a sweeping landscape for the very first time. Furthermore, when you know exactly what a famous site is supposed to look like, you feel this overwhelming pressure to capture that exact same, tired angle. I want my lens to reflect my genuine, unfiltered reaction, free from the burden of replicating someone else’s iconic promotional shots. Of course, this means I occasionally miss out on a major historical landmark, but I don’t mind. While some writers absolutely love getting hopelessly lost to find their way, I prefer having a rough mental outline of the district, simply keeping my eyes peeled for scenes that naturally catch my attention.

C Ethan

My strict ‘no guidebook’ policy actually stems from a disastrous trip to Lisbon early in my career. I followed a highly-rated manual to the letter, only to find myself eating overpriced, mediocre food surrounded entirely by other tourists. That massive letdown completely changed my approach to exploring. Nowadays, my priority is the culinary soul of a city, and you certainly won’t find that in a bestseller. I firmly believe that establishments pushed heavily by travel media inevitably lose their authentic cultural flavour in an attempt to cater to foreign palates. Instead, I follow my nose and track down tiny, family-run eateries tucked away in residential neighbourhoods. I experience an enormous sense of personal triumph when I stumble upon a bustling, unpretentious cafe that hasn’t been documented by any mainstream media. While I occasionally double-check an address online if I’m meeting an old friend, my ultimate goal is to uncover the city’s best-kept secrets entirely on my own.

D Chloe

For me, a city is essentially a complex historical mystery waiting to be unravelled. If I read a guidebook beforehand, it’s like reading the final chapter of a thriller before starting the book—it completely ruins the suspense. I prefer to wander through the streets, observing the architectural styles, the layout of the squares, and the materials used in the buildings, piecing together the region’s heritage in my own mind. I treat the urban landscape as an intricate puzzle to be solved independently. Only when my trip has concluded and I am sitting on the flight home do I finally open a history book or a travel guide. Checking the factual details and seeing how accurate my deductions were is incredibly satisfying. While some of my colleagues boast about discovering secret restaurants or unlisted galleries, my ultimate joy is connecting with the past without any prior interference clouding my judgment.

Reading 2

You are going to read an article about four travel journalists discussing the ethical dilemma of writing about a beautiful hidden spot, knowing that their article will inevitably ruin it with crowds.

For questions 1-10, choose from the people/sections (A-D). The people/sections may be chosen more than once.

Which person/section

1   mentions facing professional pressure from a superior to disclose a location?

2   believes it is impossible to prevent idyllic locations from eventually being found?

3   feels profound remorse for the environmental degradation caused by their previous work?

4   deliberately obscures the precise geographical details in their articles?

5   argues that the financial gains for local residents justify the influx of visitors?

6   has made a firm policy to only feature destinations that are already accustomed to tourism?

7   was horrified to witness irresponsible tourists carrying a copy of their publication?

8   focuses on conveying the emotional experience of a journey rather than acting as a practical guide?

9   made a final decision to completely abandon an article they had been working on?

10   emphasises the importance of instructing travelers on how to minimise their impact?

The Travel Writer’s Dilemma: To Share or Not to Share?

A Alex

Last summer, I stumbled upon a breathtaking, secluded cove in the Mediterranean. It was the kind of untouched paradise that travel writers dream of uncovering. I spent three days sketching out a captivating feature, but as I typed, a heavy sense of guilt washed over me. I pictured the fragile ecosystem being trampled by hordes of selfie-seeking tourists, leaving their inevitable trail of destruction. Consequently, I made the tough call to scrap the piece entirely. When I informed my editor, she hit the roof, angrily demanding I hand over the GPS coordinates so a rival writer could cover it. I flatly refused, even though it nearly cost me my job. I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that some places are simply too precious to be turned into the next viral hotspot. Keeping a secret might not be lucrative, but it is the only way I can sleep soundly at night.

B Bianca

As a travel journalist, I constantly grapple with the double-edged sword of exposure. If I explicitly write about an unspoilt mountain village, I know it will be overrun within a year. My strategy nowadays is to focus purely on the atmosphere rather than providing a step-by-step itinerary. I want my readers to feel the crisp mountain air and smell the pine trees, but I deliberately leave out the transport links. Sometimes, I even use fictitious names for small towns or blend the characteristics of two different regions to throw people off the scent. I regularly receive floods of emails from frustrated readers begging for exact locations, but I never yield. By writing this way, I hope to inspire a genuine sense of wanderlust and encourage people to go out and discover their own hidden gems, rather than lazily following in my exact footsteps.

C Chris

There is a somewhat arrogant assumption among writers that we alone hold the power to ‘ruin’ a destination. In the age of social media, attempting to keep a photogenic landscape hidden is basically fighting a losing battle; if I don’t post about it, a viral influencer undoubtedly will next week. Therefore, I believe my ethical duty isn’t to hide places, but to shape the narrative around them. When I feature a lesser-known valley, I dedicate a significant portion of the article to sustainable practices, explicitly telling visitors how to behave, where to dispose of their rubbish, and which family-run guesthouses to support. We must not overlook the fact that tourism injects much-needed capital into struggling rural economies. If we can educate our audience to travel with respect and cultural sensitivity, the economic boost for the locals far outweighs the downside of having a few more people on the hiking trails.

D David

A few years ago, I wrote a glowing review of a pristine waterfall in Southeast Asia. I genuinely thought I was doing the tiny local community a favour by promoting them. Two years later, I returned, and the transformation broke my heart. The path was littered with plastic bottles, the water was murky, and the tranquility was completely shattered. The absolute lowest point was watching a rowdy group of travelers carelessly snapping branches off ancient trees, and noticing one of them had my magazine feature tucked into their backpack. I felt a crushing wave of responsibility for the damage. Since that eye-opening trip, I’ve drastically altered my approach. I now strictly restrict my writing to well-trodden tourist hubs that already possess the infrastructure to cope with heavy footfall. I’ll gladly write a fresh angle on Paris or Kyoto, but I absolutely refuse to be the catalyst for the destruction of another untouched sanctuary.

Exercises:   123456