On tourism and travel in the virtual age
I remember so vividly the moment, a number of years ago, when my friend C. communicated to me his consternation over the fact that in my travels I continue to return, more or less, to the same countries, often to the same places, failing therefore to take advantage the full range of travel opportunities that the advent of low-cost airlines has bestowed upon us: a weekend in Paris, day trips to Barcelona, an extended holiday in London, Berlin, Rome, anywhere Vueling or Ryan might reach in two hours from Madrid. To be sure, I think often about what life might be like if and when Madrid does become my primary hub of reference.
Given the depth of our friendship and my admiration for the quality of his mind, C.’s exhortation that I follow his lead –trips to far- and not-so-far flung corners of the earth every 2-3 months– as been one of the most compelling stimuli for my reflections over the past several years on travel in general, in today’s world, and on the particular meaning of travel in my own life. Against the backdrop of my friend’s friend’s trundling to and fro, as he attempts to encase the globe in his web of ever-expanding knowledge, I have come to see myself as if on the stair-master of experience: eroding the steps that lead to the very places that have come to take on such deep meaning for me, for my identity, for my understanding of my place i n time and space.
In my attempt to shield myself from compelling yet uselessly negative feelings about tourism in our virtual age, I have developed a foil instead: an interest in the esthetics of the postcard stands and souvenir shops that have mushroomed in all major European capitals, these little mass-produced objets d’art in the age of mechanical reproduction. Kitsch to the rescue! Yes, the “I-was-there” selfie against the backdrop of the Taj Mahal!
Just maybe if objectify these objets and gestures for what they are, just maybe we will square the circle of “seeing” and thereby redirect it down the pathway of “experience.” Now that wouldn’t that be a lovely paradox!
