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I actually found his talks of Maine and travel in general very interesting. I really liked this from one of the footnotes: "To be a mass tourist, for me, is to become a pure late-date American: alien, ignorant, greedy for something you cannot ever have, disappointed in a way you can never admit. It is to spoil, by way of sheer ontology, the very unspoiledness you are there to experience. It is to impose yourself on places that in all noneconomic ways would be better, realer, without you. It is, in lines and gridlock and transaction after transaction, to confront a dimension of yourself that is as inescapable as it is painful: As a tourist, you become economically significant but existentially loathsome, an insect on a dead thing." |
This is one of those sentences that sounds insightful, but in reality is pretty surprisingly shallow.
The entire problem underlying such a viewpoint is a focus on yourself and not the place. On your experience of the experience and not the experience itself.
If you stand at the edge of the Grand Canyon and all you can think about is how it's spoiled by the presence of tour buses plowing through for half hour visits, you're missing the significant part of the experience. Hell, just one layer of thought deeper and you're thinking about the slow-moving timescale of the canyon vs the almost instantaneous visits of the tourists.
The mass tourists are a source of perspective, and to treat them as some sort of spoiler of the experience is in a way a denial of reality. In very real ways, they're an essential part of the experience.
What is the Mona Lisa without an adoring (but very transitory) throng?