How to Be a Primaries Tourist
By: Claire Handscombe
Tags: Politics, Tourism, Iowa, Primaries, Election 2020

How to Be a Primaries Tourist

Advice for following the campaign trail in Iowa, New Hampshire, and beyond

Photo by Element5 Digital on Unsplash

I’ve been fascinated by American politics for a decade now, thanks to a little TV show called The West Wing. In the early days of this fascination, I read American Future, by Simon Schama, and he described the electric atmosphere of the Iowa caucuses in 2008. I wished I’d been there; I hoped that one day I could witness the process, even if it wasn’t going to be a seminal a moment in history as the Obama victory. Now that I’ve lived in the US for a few years, it was finally time this year.

I thought I was a weirdo for wanting to see Des Moines, IA, and Manchester, NH, do their thing, and maybe I am, but at least I’m not the only weirdo. From across the state or even across the country, people drive down or get on a plane to be in the centre of the action of the Iowa caucuses or the New Hampshire primary, watch democracy unfold, and experience the thrill of it all. And people come from abroad, too, fascinated by the uniqueness of the American political process.

Electoral tourism, it turns out, is a thing people do.

If you, too, have dreamed of such a West Wing moment, I’m here to pass on my wisdom so you can plan for the upcoming primaries — there are still a lot of them to go! — or for 2024 and beyond. Iowa and New Hampshire may or may not still be relevant by then, but the general lessons probably will be.

Book your hotel way in advance.

You’ll want to be as close to downtown as possible, in order to be in the centre of the action. There tends to be one or more “main” hotels, where the candidates, their staffers, and/or the big names in the press will be staying — like the DoubleTree in Manchester, where MSNBC sets up camp. All of the downtown hotels sell out way in advance, though, so you’ll want to be quick. Book as soon as the Primary date is announced. If you’re lucky, you might get in before they jack up their prices.

If you stay close enough to downtown and can afford at least a semi-nice hotel, you’ll run into compelling people at the bar: at the Holiday Inn in downtown Des Moines, I met some Swedish politicians, who, like me, had come to watch the Iowa caucuses. Later that night, I had a long and interesting conversation with a British TV producer about the differences in election coverage between the UK and the US.

In New Hampshire, I was too late to nab that kind of hotel; while mine did have a pool, it didn’t have a bar, and I missed that. I also missed the thrill of wondering who I’d bump into in the hallway (then again, maybe I didn’t want to cross paths with Ezra Klein or Jon Favreau while wearing a towel and a swimsuit and my unshaven winter legs). As it turns out, though, I spent most of my time in the bar at the DoubleTree in downtown Manchester, which had makeshift studios for MSNBC and which served as a base for the great and the good of the media. Speaking of which:

Keep your eyes open.

I somehow completely missed a load of media people whom I’d have loved to meet in the hotel on my first night there. I must have walked right past them in my quest for a seat at the bar.

If possible, plan to arrive several days in advance.

You’ll get a chance to see more of the candidates up close at various rallies and other events. You might get to be in the audience at Java Joe’s in Des Moines during Kasie DC, or in studio at the hidden-away bar at the DoubleTree in Manchester for The Beat with Ari Melber. You might have more than one chance to meet some of your heroes, so it won’t matter as much if you walk past them on the way to a glass of Malbec.

Be prepared for the weather.

In Iowa and New Hampshire, that means cold. It was actually fairly mild by their standards this year, but in Iowa especially I was glad I had packed my tights, my hat, my friend’s winter boots, and my woolly socks.

Talk to everyone.

Ask your Uber driver if they’ve voted — that’s all it’ll usually take for them to share their opinions. Ask the poll worker sipping her wine how she feels about this quadriennial tradition, and she’ll rhapsodise about New Hampshire. Turn to the person next to you at the bar and ask if they’re with the media, and before you know it they’ll be telling you that they drive down to Manchester every four years to experience it all up close or that they’ve flown in from DC to watch a caucus happen live or that they’ve come to support their favourite candidate for reasons that will turn out to be fascinating. This was 90% of the fun for me.

Don’t be defensive or argumentative.

This is hard for me. I am very opinionated, and firm in my convictions. But when I sat down at the bar in Manchester — completely missing my chance to say hello to Katy Tur — I found myself in a long conversation with a guy who had voted for Obama twice and then for Trump. I knew, statistically, that people like him existed, but to my knowledge I’d never met anyone with that voting record, so I was genuinely curious. I let him speak. When there was something I was desperate to correct, I framed it as a question rather than getting myself all tied up in shouty knots. It was a fun conversation.

I don’t think I changed his mind — he certainly didn’t change mine — but he called me “very open-minded for a liberal”, which was a high compliment coming from him. And all I had to do to earn that label was to keep quiet. Of course, there are definitely times for pushing back on egregious views and remarks, but I didn’t feel like this was the time for that. I’d come to learn, so I put my mind to learning.

I feel like I understand some things better than I did before, including how far we still have to go in getting white affluent men to understand how privileged they are and what that means for their own chances in life compared to other people’s. But I digress.

Honestly, I don’t know where this part of me came from. Maybe it was just that I was in journalistic, watching-and-learning mode. But I might try and slip into it more often. It was… kind of liberating?

Have a stack of business cards on you.

You’ll be among like-minded people — people who care about politics as passionately as you do, whether or not they’re from the same party or voting for the same candidate — so there’s bound to be chances to connect either personally or professionally. Don’t miss the chance to extend the moment beyond the election season!

Be open to surprises.

Don’t plan every minute of your day. For me, a lot of my time in both Des Moines and Manchester, if you hadn’t gathered by now, consisted of just plonking myself at the bar and seeing what happened and where the conversation led me. Or walking into a delightful bookshop and seeing the similarities and differences with the store where I work in DC. Or hanging out at a coffee shop, eavesdropping on conversations, and engaging a fellow Brit in conversation about our guesses as to who would win big. Or walking into a stationery store and chatting to the shopkeeper about what the caucuses mean to her and her town.

And a bonus surprise for me was that in this rarified universe, I was suddenly no longer invisible to men. In Des Moines, I met a French journalist with a similar background to mine. “A match made in heaven,” a fellow caucus-observer proclaimed, though we’ll probably never see each other again. In Manchester, in the nicest of ways, more than one man flirted with me, bought me a drink, or brushed my arm while discussing Trump or Brexit or Harry and Meghan. I’d happily live in that world for a little longer.

Be prepared to talk to the press — or to know how to say no if you don’t want to.

In Iowa, waiting for Elizabeth Warren’s speech, I was interviewed by an NPR reporter. In New Hampshire, after she spoke, a local Fox affiliate wanted to hear from me. (I considered saying no, but couldn’t quite make myself.) I was stopped on Elm Street in Manchester twice, once by Dutch TV to ask my opinions on Trump, and once by Brazilian TV to ask for my post-Primary thoughts. I’ve never felt so important. It was a lot of fun.

Take the opportunity for some food-based tourism…

In Des Moines, I looked in on the famous Zombie Burger, and ended up having an Italian themed meal at a place called Lucca, recommended to me by a stranger I happened to talk to while visting the Iowa State Capitol.

In Manchester, I headed straight to the Red Arrow Diner, which has been an iconic, required stop on the campaign trail for a long time. On the night I arrived, Sirius FM was using it as a base for their radio show and providing free food from a menu of things like “chicks and balances” — chicken tenders and sides.

I researched “best coffee” and stumbled on the A&E coffee shop. I highly recommend the almond and blueberry muffin there. It was like no other blueberry muffin I’d ever had — and I’ve had a lot of them. The almond gave it extra fluffiness. It was delicious.

… and tourism in general.

I loved visiting the Iowa State Capitol. It was beautiful, and really interesting. The Law Library was Intagram-worthy, and a very earnest intern gave me a tour of the vault where the official records are kept and of the Secretary of State’s office, complete with a replica of the Resolute Desk.

Drink the tap water in New Hampshire, where it’s really refreshing, but not in Iowa, where it tastes kind of horrible.

There’s not much to add on this one.

If you can, do some campaigning for your favourite candidate.

In Iowa, I tramped around for a few hours knocking on doors for Elizabeth Warren. It was a Monday during the day, so almost nobody was home, and when I put the campaign door signs on handles they would immediately blow off in the icy wind. But I got to meet some campaign volunteers, felt that energy I remembered from Obama For Virginia in 2012, and got some stellar advice on where to head to that night to observe a caucus (a shopping centre called Capital Square, where there are excellent vantage points for watching events unfold).

Joaquin Castro also came by at lunchtime to give us a pep talk. And when I saw Elizabeth Warren later that night at her rally and got that treasured photo with her, it felt good to know that I had done my bit for her.

Still on the fence? Do it!

It’s once in four years. Don’t miss out! It might turn out to be a great adventure.