Practice English Reading Exercises for B2 – Travel Writing & Approaches 6

Exercises:   123456

Reading 1

You are going to read an article about four writers sharing their techniques for interviewing reluctant locals to extract authentic stories for their travel magazine articles.

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 how avoiding direct eye contact can make a subject feel less intimidated?

2   relies on the locals’ own inquisitiveness to initiate the conversation?

3   believes that adopting a completely clueless persona encourages locals to open up?

4   notes that formally scheduled chats proved to be highly unsuccessful?

5   finds that assisting with tiring chores is the best way to break the ice?

6   uses a physical prop to draw attention away from the person being interviewed?

7   stresses the necessity of keeping professional gear out of sight at the beginning?

8   deliberately recounts their own embarrassing travel mishaps to build trust?

9   emphasizes the value of returning to the exact same location multiple times?

10   mentions that their strategy frequently results in an invitation to share food?

Breaking the Ice: How to Interview Reluctant Locals

A Liam

When I first started writing features, I’d march up to people brandishing a large microphone and a notebook. Unsurprisingly, they would freeze up. I quickly learned that concealing the tools of the trade is absolutely vital during the initial stages. Now, my strategy relies heavily on patience and routine. I’ll find a bustling village square or a quiet local café and simply occupy the same corner table for three or four consecutive days. At first, I am just a background fixture, completely ignored by the residents. However, human nature dictates that people eventually want to know why a stranger is lingering. Once their natural curiosity gets the better of them, they are the ones who come over to ask questions. I let them steer the chat initially. We might talk about the weather or a local match, and only when the atmosphere is entirely relaxed do I subtly ask if I can jot down a few notes.

B Maya

Early in my career, I tried setting up appointments to interview artisans and farmers. It was a disaster; sitting across from each other at a table felt far too artificial, and the formal setup yielded nothing but rehearsed, wooden answers. I soon realised that to get working people to talk, you need to get your hands dirty. If a fisherman is mending nets, I’ll sit down and ask him to teach me how to tie the knots. If a family is harvesting olives, I’ll grab a basket and pitch in. Sharing the burden of heavy physical labour breaks down cultural barriers incredibly fast. The shared rhythm of the work loosens their tongues, and the conversation flows organically. Furthermore, offering your sweat and time usually earns you a significant amount of goodwill, frequently culminating in a generous offer to join the family for a hearty home-cooked meal, which is where the best stories are inevitably shared.

C Carlos

In many rural communities, being subjected to a barrage of personal questions by a foreign journalist can feel more like an interrogation than a friendly chat. To counter this, I employ a technique I call ‘the third point of focus’. Instead of staring intensely at the individual, which can make them feel incredibly self-conscious and defensive, I introduce an inanimate object into the dynamic. I might bring a vintage photograph of their town, or simply point to an unusual carving on a nearby door. By fixing both our gazes on this external item, the pressure of direct, sustained eye contact is immediately relieved. The subject no longer feels like they are under a microscope. They start explaining the history of the artefact or the context of the picture, and before long, they are seamlessly weaving their own personal anecdotes into the broader explanation. It’s a wonderfully gentle way of bypassing their initial reluctance.

D Nina

As a travel writer, coming across as a polished, sophisticated expert is actually the worst thing you can do when trying to extract authentic narratives from hesitant locals. If you project authority, they will assume their own everyday lives aren’t interesting enough to warrant your attention. To build an immediate rapport, I intentionally strip away my own prestige. I make a habit of recounting my latest ridiculous travel blunder—like getting hopelessly lost on the local bus system or accidentally ordering something bizarre from a menu due to my terrible pronunciation. Making myself look a bit foolish instantly humanizes me. It shifts the power dynamic, allowing the local resident to take on the role of the knowledgeable guide while I play the utterly bewildered tourist. Once they feel a sense of superiority and empathy towards my clumsiness, their protective walls crumble, and they become incredibly eager to share their own worldly wisdom and local legends.

Reading 2

You are going to read an article about four travelers talking about their minimalist approach to packing.

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

Which person/section

1   admits to having had reservations before adopting their current packing strategy?

2   appreciates being freed from the burden of daily decision-making?

3   acquired useful travel advice during a mundane chore?

4   contrasts their present method with a former tendency to bring too much?

5   highlights the benefit of moving smoothly through transit hubs?

6   experienced a humorous situation resulting from an inability to communicate?

7   established a regular habit that fostered a sense of belonging?

8   believes their strategy contributes positively to the destination’s economy?

9   picked up a traditional method for maintaining their garments?

10   feels that carrying less helps them avoid drawing unwanted attention to themselves?

The Joy of Travelling Light: Why Less Luggage Means More Connection

A Leo

I used to think travelling light was just a passing fad. When I first committed to taking only a single, small backpack for a month-long trip across Italy, I was terrified I’d run out of clean outfits within days. However, those initial doubts vanished quickly. What I lacked in wardrobe variety, I gained in unparalleled mobility; hopping on and off crowded trains without lugging a massive suitcase behind me was an absolute revelation. But the most unexpected reward was the laundromats. Instead of dropping clothes at a hotel reception, I spent a couple of hours every week at a local lavanderia. It was there, waiting for my jeans to dry, that I struck up a conversation with an elderly gentleman. He ended up giving me directions to an incredible, hidden trattoria that no guidebook had ever mentioned. Had I packed enough clothes for the whole trip, I would have completely missed out on that authentic experience.

B Mia

Looking back at my early twenties, I honestly can’t fathom why I felt the compulsion to travel with a suitcase the size of a wardrobe. I was guilty of throwing in ‘just in case’ outfits that rarely saw the light of day. Nowadays, my packing philosophy is strictly minimalist. By restricting myself to a few versatile items, I’ve had to get creative with keeping things fresh. While trekking through rural Peru, finding a modern laundromat simply wasn’t an option. Consequently, I was taught how to effectively scrub garments in a communal basin using a specific type of local soap—a skill patiently demonstrated to me by a wonderfully warm hostel owner. We spent a whole afternoon chatting in broken Spanish while working on our shirts. Furthermore, carrying a small bag means I easily avoid standing out as a heavily burdened tourist, allowing me to observe my surroundings far more naturally and comfortably.

C Sam

For me, taking fewer clothes isn’t merely about convenience; it’s a conscious ethical choice. When you rely on expensive hotel laundry services, the profits rarely reach the wider community. By purposefully seeking out independent, family-run laundrettes in the neighbourhoods I visit, I ensure my money directly supports local residents. Naturally, stepping off the tourist trail brings its own set of unique challenges. During a recent stay in Tokyo, I needed to get my only warm jacket cleaned. Since I don’t speak a word of Japanese and the shop owner spoke no English, we had to rely entirely on exaggerated gestures. I accidentally mimed something that looked like I was wrestling a bear, which sent the owner and two other customers into fits of laughter. It broke the ice instantly. We communicated through smiles and drawings on a notepad, and I left with a spotless jacket and a brilliant memory.

D Zoe

There is a tremendous sense of psychological freedom in having a tiny capsule wardrobe. In my daily life back home, I suffer from terrible decision fatigue, constantly agonizing over what to wear. On the road, waking up and knowing I only have three shirts to choose from is incredibly liberating; it encourages a far more relaxed attitude towards my personal image. Because my clothing rotation is so tight, visiting the laundromat becomes an unavoidable weekly ritual. During a month in Lisbon, I went to the same self-service laundry every Sunday morning. By the third week, the owner greeted me by name, and I was exchanging nods with the other local regulars. It provided a profound sense of community that you simply don’t get by just visiting museums and monuments. Taking less stuff fundamentally shifts your perspective from being a passing spectator to a temporary resident.

Exercises:   123456