When tourism turns into narcissism

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There are a couple of commercials on tv lately that have resonated with me. You know, the ones where the people set up a campsite and take the obligatory selfie, then break it down and head home. The one where the couple races back to the tent after sneaking out to spend the night in the luxury hotel… I started thinking about this after reading an interesting article the other day – When tourism turns into narcissism. 

I love to travel, but I (sort of consciously) tend to not stick to the 10 must see things that tell me what I should do where I am going. I am usually criticized for not having any pictures with me in them. I’m not into selfies. I know I’ve stood there and taken that photo, I don’t really care that anyone else does or doesn’t. I do take tons of photos, and I do blog incessantly, pretty close to every evening when I travel. The blogging is my form of a journal, I write it for us, as a recap of the fabulous things we see, do, and our take on our interactions with the people, places, and foods we encounter. I’m no professional travel writer, and I usually follow no detailed plan when we go where we go.

I usually find it far more interesting to wander and get lost a bit. You find amazing restaurants, see scenes you might not otherwise, and often meet interesting people when you are desperate for directions because you have no idea where you now are. I think it’s more important to really “be” where you are going, be it the top of a remote mountain that took three days to hike into (not that I’d ever know that feeling), or sitting at a seaside cafe in a tropical locale. Don’t get me wrong, I also try to do my research on a locale and know where I am going and learn some of the history so that I have a better appreciation of where I am.

I’m not a pool-side sitter. I have never been able to do that and if I’m forced to, I get cagey. I need to move. I tried it again a few years ago when Kirk was in Mexico for a work trip and I came along as a +1. I managed to sit at the edge of the pool and read a book…for a couple of hours. And then I had to get up and go. I ended up walking all over Puerto Vallarta by myself. Exploring when you don’t know where you are going is so much more interesting than sitting beside a pool, or sitting on the beach.

For me anyway.

I’m just not good at sitting still.

We haven’t done any overseas travels lately; we’ve done a quick trip to Montreal, a week on the motorcycles reconnecting with an old friend, a few short trips to Seattle and other relatively local escapes. But an article I read recently made me think about this again. Even during those short escapes we can connect with the places and the people around us simply by engaging in our surroundings.

On this summer’s motorcycle trip, from the BC-Alberta border, I was retracing the last road trip that my mother and I ever took. I had flown to Prince George and she picked me up at the airport in her van; we hit the road immediately and it was one of the best road trips ever. Partly because the scenery was fantastic, but mostly because it was days of discussion about absolutely everything.

We drove from Prince George and visited Mount Robson. We spent the night at Wapiti campground, visited the Columbia Icefields, and stopped in at beautiful lakes and riverside rest stops for picnic meals.

But one particular stop struck me on that trip.

Peyto Lake.

Peyto Lake is the most beautiful lake I’ve ever seen in my life. Mom and I parked the van and walked up the hill to the lookout, and it took my breath away. I could have stood there and looked at that lake for hours.

There was another thing that struck me about Peyto Lake though. While we enjoyed the view, there were waves of Japanese tourists coming through. The tour buses have a parking lot up higher on the road and the passengers of those buses are afforded a shorter walk to the lookout. Presumably, owing to a tight schedule of stops to visit, the tour groups are provided with less exercise 😉

But that wasn’t what struck me, rather it was the fact that every one of them stood in front of the view and had a friend take their photo, then they reversed so the picture taker could have their photo taken. But no one actually stopped and took in the breathtaking scene in front of them. They took their selfies, and then returned to the buses. I guess they will look at the pictures later….. but why? When the real thing was so stunningly present in front of them?

When we rode through the Parks again this summer, a year and a half after Mom’s death, I led the three of us onto that side road and up to Peyto Lake, although this time we went to the bus parking lot. I didn’t feel like making that hike in motorcycle gear.

I recalled Mom grousing about Dad and how he was always face first in the camera, recording everything and seeing nothing. She had waved her hand at the people taking photos of people and not really seeing what was behind them in the images. Mom knew how to be present when she travelled and she’d chastise me when I travelled and neglected to do certain things that were outside of the ordinary. She knew how to take full advantage of every experience.

I try to take a page from her book and appreciate where I am when I am there.

Happy travels.