Consider that there was no concept of tourism, or travel for pleasure, prior to the late 18th century. None. Nada. Zero. Those few who did embark upon an expedition solely for the sake of seeing what other cultures and climes had to offer were, typically, wealthy young Englishmen, university graduates who were sent by their fathers on a one- or two-year odyssey through Europe and sometimes beyond. This "Grand Tour" to experience the world prior to settling down was considered a social prerequisite for the sons of aristocrats.

These foreign journeys, conducted under the most arduous conditions of poor roads and no public transportation or inns, would generally include stops in Paris and Geneva, then lengthy sojourns in the great romantic cities of Italy. As there were few transient facilities for outsiders on the Continent, these intrepid young men usually resided with the British ambassador or with wealthy expatriate friends along their routes. Their travel arrangements were organized privately and usually included horses, carriages and personal servants.

These young, educated Englishmen had a big advantage in the 18th century over contemporary tourists: No one was expecting them. Because their numbers were so few, these early adventurers were privileged as no travelers have been since. They roamed freely without passports and customs regulations, carved their initials on any available surface, observed untainted vignettes of village and city life and carted home with impunity thousands of antiquities and works of art that now grace the great houses and museums of Britain. Still, the places that attracted them were almost totally unaffected by the trickling demands and interests of a few foreign visitors.

And then the dawning of the Industrial Age changed the character of travel and the character of people who do it. After 1840, following the momentous development of the railroad and steamship and emergence of the new English middle-class, travel for pleasure became a feasible concept for the first time in history. Thomas Cook, a British temperance preacher and cabinetmaker, promoted the novel notion that workers might benefit from the the broadening horizons of travel. He negotiated with transport companies to offer discounted fares to large numbers of passengers. Thus group tourism for the masses was born, with tourists vying with travelers for the next 150 years.

With transport costs now reduced by 90 percent, folks of the Victorian Age looked to Europe and points east as meccas for their burgeoning travel aspirations. In addressing their complex logistical requirements, the ever-innovative Cook pioneered a heretofore nonexistent travel industry of moving groups from one place to another. His packaged tours were an instant success. And before 1850, the process had begun in which the needs and expectations of tourists changed the face, and soon the soul, of the places they visited.

Droves of Victorian tourists brought to foreign soil their demands for English-style hostelries, their ideas of suitable sightseeing attractions and their desire for familiar entertainments. The continent responded to this new source of revenue by giving them what they wanted and, by doing so, affixed a false veneer to the very cultural values and monuments that so mesmerized the earliest independent travelers.

The process of transformation was hastened along in the 1920s when Americans in large numbers began to cross the Atlantic to leave footprints on their European motherlands. Citizens of this emerging world power wanted everywhere they visited to be just like home. In time, the Americans' apparent lack of ease and confidence in traveling to distant lands was translated by host countries into antiseptic hotels, squat-and-gobble eateries and Disneyesque attractions offering barely a hint of being strangers in a strange land. Tourists loved this connection with the familiar idioms of the American lifestyle. Many still do.

As a consequence of worldwide catering to the demands and expectations of tourists, the true traveler must look further afield than traditional haunts to seek the authentic experience. Unlike the tourist, the traveler maintains a sense of the past, which comes primarily from reading. A traveler has a genuine if impractical interest in literature, art, architecture, political institutions, great religions, ancient history, indigenous peoples and regional cuisines. This "cultural literacy" enables the traveler to appreciate and enjoy the civilized as well as primal wonders of this extraordinary world.

Contemporary tourism has indeed left its indelible mark on the destinations most popular with the traveling public. Vehicle and body congestion has become an almost insurmountable aggravation. In many instances, standards of food and service have deteriorated to the lowest common denominator. And in general, pandering to tourists — and exploiting them — has made the marvelous places and peoples on this planet uglier and meaner.

Options for the intrepid traveler are diminishing. Don't wait for an opportune time in the distant future to visit the places that fire your imagination. They may then be defaced by pollution, destroyed by misguided local inhabitants, roped off to the public, inaccessible due to traffic gridlock or just plain spoiled by the wide wake of tourism.

If you've already investigated the great legacies of Eastern and Western civilizations, opt for little-known or developing destinations where institutional tourism has not yet warped beyond recognition the country's traditions and attitudes. Some intriguing choices of this genre would include the hinterlands of Papua New Guinea, Madagascar, Cameroon, Burma (Myanmar) and Ecuador.

By approaching travel as a personal adventure of the mind and senses, your thoughtful, responsible conduct in foreign lands will shape the footprint for others to follow. Choose the path of the traveler, not of the tourist.

Irene Croft Jr. of Kailua, Kona, is a travel writer and 40-year veteran globetrotter. Her column is published in this section every other week.