This essay series was something we had discussed pre-Substack. Having known each other for eight years and lived together for half that, you know one another more deeply. This writing offers a more intimate view of our thoughts. It is our friendship that feeds into these essays, conversations held in private, often in our kitchen. Our essays are a collaborative project, connecting various subject matters discussed on our platform, weaving personal experiences—a candid approach to navigating life in our current context, what we can do with and without.
We used to hear that “the world is a village”. Marshall McLuhan coined the expression “global village” after observing how easy it had become to communicate through media outlets. It was about being connected. In some way, it could also mean that we could go and live, physically connect anywhere, anytime, through travelling. After a hiatus (for most people anyway) of the travelling fever due to travel restrictions and lockdowns, plus the fact that flying is a significant driver of carbon emissions, it feels bizarre to see people sharing tourist experiences in long-haul, overseas lands. Perspectives on travelling have shifted.
Amandine
Recently, I was annoyed to witness waves of wealthy people, the sort of quiet influencers loved by sustainable fashion brands, travelling to Europe, particularly Italy [have you noticed how Puglia and Capri were everywhere on Instagram?] Greece or the Balearic Islands [forget about Ibiza, now it is all about Mallorca apparently] for the pure tourism experience. These people did not have roots in the place, family or friends living there all year long. They were there for the hype. Was there a bit of envy to see these young individuals lavishing, spending so much time and money to experience a particular way of life? Maybe, but more importantly, it also raised the question of being in those places while the locals were suffering from climate change-induced weather, heat waves, wildfires and floods, and the tourism economy, gentrifying these places at the expense of the local population. These thoughts prompt a conversation with Trace while preparing dinner.
After Benoit and I returned from France, visiting our family, and getting married, I knew we had blown up our carbon emissions, and I felt guilty about it. It is not like we didn't have a choice, but we wanted to achieve a specific vision for this once-in-a-lifetime moment. It was simpler to have the two of us going to France than all our guests coming to New Zealand.
Post-pandemic, my perspectives on travelling have changed. The reason to move that way now is either to visit a place close by, ideally accessible by train, or there must be a significant motive to spend all these resources to go somewhere, either to connect with family, loved ones, roots, or maybe being on your way to somewhere else to achieve the previous goal. Even the reason for doing business [For example, Australian or New Zealand brands shooting their latest collection in Italy because the aesthetic is popular] is becoming less and less valid, in my opinion. At a time when re-anchoring ourselves into our locality is crucial, the way of selling the dream must change. Every place has beauty in the face of creativity. Also, zoom meetings save time and petrol.
That said, travelling is an incredible experience. As a foreigner, it is an opportunity to discover other cultures, different foods, and a novel perspective on life, another approach to the world. LIFE magazine's motto has always stayed with me:
"To see the world, things dangerous to come to, to see behind walls, draw closer, to find each other and to feel. That is the purpose of LIFE."
Travel confronts us, asks for discomfort, to go through and change anew. That is also how I tried to approach life, and it was the drive to move to New Zealand. It changed my life for the better. Travelling is about a connection to food, to people, to a land, and ultimately, to a culture.
We also took advantage of our travel as much as possible within our financial restraints. Flying from New Zealand, I suggested that, spending all this kerosene, we should take the opportunity to do a longer layover in Dubai, our usual airport stopover. I would have preferred to go through Singapore, but Singapore airline prices have gone through the roof in the last few years, so it is not an option for us anymore. Maybe one day. We spent three days in Dubai, UAE, a place encompassing the opposite of our values, from ethics to economics, architecture and lifestyle.
However, it is essential to remain curious, even about what doesn't interest or attract you, so we took this tourist experience as a social experiment. Also, as an architect, it is a bonus to glance at what is done in a place like Dubai. It was the hottest place we had ever been, and we saw the ridiculous influencers dressing in Shein-like outfits. It was what we expected, but we had a pleasant pre-wedding time and no regrets about staying in the UAE. As Westerners, something we only sometimes realise is that travelling is a privilege. Approximately less than 20% of the world population have ever flown. The Westernised tunnel mindset makes us think that our beliefs and perceptions are something global, but they are exceptions. Reflecting on travelling is also about deconstruction.
As it became more and more accessible for the Westernised middle class to move around, travelling converted itself into mass travelling. This industrialisation of the art of travelling increased tourism—people going from place to place without curiosity, a drive to discover and embrace a culture of place, but desperately looking for familiarity and only a pinch of escape. I will never understand the interest of some to go on a ten-hour flight to spend a week in a resort hotel, surrounded by people similar to me, eating almost the same food as at home, bathing in a swimming pool when the sea is five metres away, and sometimes get out of the golden cage to see-site an overcrowded place of interest. Have you also heard about the travel bucket list? A maximum number of countries in the least amount of time. Where is the opening here? The connection, the expansion of the mind? What is the point?
And the tourist industry is not just about giving work to locals; it is also damaging to the regional population, their natural environment and their resources. Hotels, apartments, and one of the worst, AirBnb, gentrified and displaced people, moving the culture with it, leaving a gimmick of what a place, a suburb, a city used to be. Another form of colonialism that is characterised by bringing the construction, the habits, from somewhere else to cater to the Westernised target. There is no authenticity in this way of consuming holidays. In popular places, people are everywhere, all the time. It is, for example, a nightmare to live in Venice. I will always remember the attitude of local Italians towards visitors. Ignoring at best, aggressive at worst. Always rude. I understand them now. If you'd like to dive further, earlier this year, Alicia Kennedy lectured her Culinary Tourism class at Boston University, which she transcripted in her newsletter, reflecting on the effects of tourist activities on Puerto Rican food culture. It is an insightful read, touching on cultural appropriation, neocolonialism and climate change.
What will travel be like in the near future? I am torn by the reality of travel, the damages it causes, and my appreciation for being able to visit incredible spaces. I want to believe that, in some way, responsible travelling could be possible, creating positives that benefit locals and travellers. It is naive, but I keep thinking that travelling is a unique opportunity to expand our boundaries, mental or physical, cultures and perspectives. There is no better way to know about a country or population than to witness different ways of living and learn to love others. It gives more understanding and compassion. Is it going to be a loss to discard this way of discovering the world?
Trace
I do not drive. I do not hold a licence, and in many ways, this has limited my movement, perhaps unintentionally, to surrounding neighbourhoods. The last international flight I took was to Melbourne in February 2020. And then no one travelled pretty much for a time, and then some could at all. I could not, did not. During the Pandemic, and then sometime later, as those close to me holidayed, my perspective of travel, what it meant to me or what it could mean, shifted. The next plane I board, the flight will be one way.
I read that American photographer Mark Cohen spent much of the ’70s and ’80s, photographing everyday life in his industrial hometown of Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. Cohen produced a huge body of work over fifty years in a relatively small geographic region. He did not travel. As per his writings in relation to Dark Knees:
“I just made my photos in Wilkes-Barre and a few other places because I wasn’t the kind of photographer who liked to, or needed to, travel around the world… And I work on an extremely narrow range, in terms of my method and technical issues, too. It’s what is in my head that has developed over time. So I’ve just kept taking pictures in the same two counties [Wilkes-Barre and Scranton].”
Notice what goes unnoticed. I largely photograph at home or within several kilometres of it. There are many photographers I follow who are creating work in their neighbourhood. Their homes. Their friends' homes. It was Cohen and also, the work of Martin Parr that heavily influenced my experimentation with flash at home. I was not going anywhere but wanted to create surrealist images, to create a certain look for my own work that was more fascinating. Even if it was my Shiba Inu playing with a blueberry. The commitment to photographing at home was also about shifting perspectives of what is desirable, what is cool. Because Europe was cool this year, but that does not interest me. Make the everyday mundane cool.
It was unfortunate for me, then, that travel, post-pandemic, has become something of a cultural anti-work phenomenon, evolving from the Instagram influencer phase to this unhealthy preoccupation with normalising personal debt. I’ve begun to regard this phenomenon as unsettling. A lot of this is associated with hating work. Earlier this year I began to notice in my discovery feed, reels that glorified or at least hyped the idea of being broke and travelling. You have seen the depression leaving my body on TikTok. Feeling sad? Travel. Each P.O.V. post is dangerously naive. Why are people sad and depressed? Unfortunately, travel has become highly commoditised. Tourism wants those pre-pandemic revenue levels, but people kind of suffered financially during that time. And now, rent, interest rates, food, costs more than it did in 2020 and people do not have the discretionary income to spend on travel. But for those living paycheck to paycheck, you can fly now and pay later. It’s a predatory point-of-sale loan, basically.
There have been several articles written about the over tourism in the last year alone, including Wish you weren’t here! How tourists are ruining the world’s greatest destinations; How Venice Beach Became a Neighborhood for the Wealthy... and what that means for affordable housing across the country; A New Tourist Train in Mexico Will Destroy Indigenous Land and Livelihoods; and What's the problem with overtourism? In Bali, tourism has created a $53 million rubbish problem. Slow Factory highlighted the fact that the fires in Maui were a direct result of the illegal occupation of Hawai’i, the exploitation of the island and its peoples by the tourism industry. It’s always the same thing.
I don’t think it is a crime to want to travel abroad. You could argue that it is progress. Are there ecological consequences? Societal impacts? Sure. Travel has also changed indelibly due to the Pandemic and as those of us from privileged countries now find ourselves not able to book holiday after holiday like it’s a God-given right—because it is not. This is an opportune moment to stop and reflect. How do we thoughtfully connect and interact? How do we respect international communities, cultures, traditions? And that actually, not everything is for us and for our entertainment?
How do you feel about travel post-pandemic? And the perspective of not being able to travel in the near future? We welcome you to share your thoughts, experience and opinions.