Practice English Reading Exercises for B2 – Travel Writing & Approaches 4

Exercises:   123456

Reading 1

You are going to read an article about four writers sharing their obsessive habit of keeping detailed handwritten travel journals.

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 that their handwriting can be challenging to decipher after the trip?

2   relies on their notebooks to accurately retain the speech of locals?

3   glues ordinary items they have collected into their pages?

4   mentions that their published works are practically identical to their travel diaries?

5   uses the individuals they documented as inspiration for invented characters?

6   insists on using a specific type of writing equipment?

7   considers written descriptions secondary to their visual artwork?

8   focuses on preserving non-visual sensory experiences while travelling?

9   produces non-fiction historical books inspired by their collected notes?

10   confesses to documenting their journeys while experiencing a state of mental overwhelm?

From Page to Print: The Art of the Travel Journal

A Leo

I’ve never been one for snapping endless photographs; instead, my travel journals are my absolute lifeline. Whenever I’m on the road, I make a point of jotting down everything, particularly when I’m dealing with a new environment. If I’m navigating a bustling market in Marrakech or the chaotic streets of Mumbai, my mind often feels completely overwhelmed. In that state of frenzy, I frantically scribble down the exact smells of roasting spices and the deafening clatter of traffic. Because I write so hastily in the heat of the moment, the pages inevitably end up covered in messy scrawls. By the time I return home to my studio, trying to decode my own notes can be an absolute nightmare. However, once I manage to come to terms with the scribbles, those rich, invisible details form the vibrant backbone of my published travelogues. I don’t draw a single thing, but those captured scents and sounds bring my chapters to life.

B Nina

For me, a pristine notebook is simply an invitation to paint. While many of my peers fill their pages from top to bottom with long-winded paragraphs, I always prioritise my watercolour palette. I spend hours sitting in European piazzas or on remote Asian beaches, painstakingly sketching the architecture and the way the light hits the water. Text is very much an afterthought for me; I only add brief captions or a few fleeting thoughts in the margins once the illustration is totally complete. The fascinating thing about my process is how these visual diaries eventually reach the public. Unlike authors who completely rewrite and expand their notes into heavy novels, my publishers simply scan my journals. Aside from correcting a handful of minor spelling mistakes in the captions, the final printed books are virtually indistinguishable from the very notebooks I carried in my backpack. It’s a beautifully authentic way to share my journey.

C Omar

I don’t travel to gaze at monuments; I travel to meet people. Consequently, my journals are essentially transcripts of human interaction. Whether I’m chatting with a fisherman in a tiny coastal village or arguing with a taxi driver, I try to capture their exact phrasing and unique expressions word for word. People often assume I’m writing a factual documentary, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Once I get back to my desk, these real-life encounters undergo a massive transformation. The people I’ve meticulously quoted become the starting point for entirely made-up protagonists in my novels. A friendly shopkeeper might evolve into a cunning villain, but they will still speak with the authentic rhythm I recorded on that particular day. So, while my books are completely fictional, the voices echoing through the chapters are deeply rooted in reality. It’s a strategy that rarely lets me down.

D Sylvia

I am incredibly fussy about my materials. I flatly refuse to embark on an expedition without my custom-made leather-bound diary and a very particular brand of fountain pen. Anything else just doesn’t feel right. Furthermore, my journals aren’t just for writing; they serve as scrapbooks. I have a habit of hoarding everyday ephemera—train stubs, torn theatre tickets, and faded café receipts—and pasting them directly onto the pages alongside my notes. Years later, when I sit down to work on my manuscripts, these seemingly insignificant scraps of paper prove to be invaluable. Running my fingers over an old boarding pass transports me right back to that specific era and location, which is crucial because I specialise in writing factual historical accounts of different regions. Without those glued-in, tangible reminders, my non-fiction books would completely lack the vivid historical accuracy that my readers have come to expect.

Reading 2

You are going to read an article about four travelers discussing the clear distinction they make between being a passive “tourist” and an actively engaged “traveler.”

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 a deliberate decision to avoid making rigid plans?

2   points out that facing difficulties is essential for personal development?

3   feels that bringing economic benefits to the community is a key responsibility?

4   describes a specific method used to break down cultural barriers?

5   suggests that taking photos is less important than experiencing the moment?

6   criticises people who expect their destination to replicate their normal life?

7   acknowledges a past phase of travelling in a less engaged manner?

8   believes that authentic experiences often occur when things go wrong?

9   emphasises the importance of leaving no physical trace in nature?

10   mentions forming enduring friendships as a result of their approach?

Tourist or Traveller: Finding the True Meaning of a Journey

A Mark

I have always believed that the line between a tourist and a traveller is drawn by how one handles time. A classic tourist is obsessed with checking off landmarks from a pre-packaged itinerary, rushing frantically from one monument to the next. Conversely, whenever I set off on a journey, I deliberately leave my schedule wide open. It is my firm belief that the most profound moments happen when things do not go according to plan. Getting hopelessly lost in the winding alleys of a Moroccan medina once led me to an unforgettable street food stall that no guidebook had ever mentioned. Furthermore, tourists tend to view a destination solely through the lens of their cameras, desperate to capture the perfect shot. As a traveller, I would much rather put the phone away and simply absorb the atmosphere. If you never allow yourself to drift aimlessly, you will undoubtedly miss the hidden heartbeat of the city.

B Elena

For me, the fundamental difference lies in human connection. Tourists generally remain insulated within their comfort zones, observing foreign cultures from the safety of an air-conditioned coach or an all-inclusive resort. They might smile at the locals, but they rarely engage in meaningful dialogue. To transition into a traveller, you must make a genuine effort to penetrate that cultural bubble. Personally, I always try to pick up at least the basics of the regional language before I depart. Even a clumsy attempt to speak to a vendor in their mother tongue can instantly break the ice and open doors. Rather than booking international hotel chains, I opt for family-run homestays. Consequently, I have managed to forge lasting bonds with people across the globe, some of whom I still correspond with years later. A tourist merely passes through a place, whereas a traveller allows the place, and its people, to pass through them.

C Tariq

I must confess that in my early twenties, I was the quintessential tourist. I would fly to a tropical island, consume its resources, and leave without a second thought. However, my mindset has shifted dramatically, and I now realise that true travellers are acutely aware of their footprint. The distinction is rooted in ethical responsibility. A passive holidaymaker often inadvertently contributes to environmental degradation and overtourism. Now, I make it my mission to ensure my visits actively support the grassroots economy. Whether it is hiring an independent guide or purchasing handmade crafts directly from local artisans, directing funds into the right hands is crucial. Furthermore, a responsible traveller ensures that natural habitats remain utterly undisturbed. If we simply take what we want without giving anything back or protecting the landscape, we are merely exploiting these beautiful destinations instead of truly appreciating them.

D Sofia

The distinction between the two concepts is essentially about one’s willingness to embrace the unfamiliar. Tourists frequently demand that their destination caters exclusively to their usual habits; they actively seek out familiar fast-food chains and complain if the local infrastructure does not match their hometown’s standards. In stark contrast, a traveller actively pursues discomfort. If you are not challenged by the unfamiliar customs, strange culinary delicacies, or chaotic public transport of a new country, you are not really travelling. It is precisely these struggles that foster resilience and personal growth. Last year, while navigating a notoriously unreliable bus network in rural India, I was forced to abandon my Western expectations of efficiency. That frustrating ordeal ultimately taught me immense patience. While tourists travel to escape their lives and relax, travellers set out to stretch their boundaries and return home as fundamentally altered individuals.

Exercises:   123456