Travel: Pondering before packing

Longtime readers know that I have a fraught relationship with the tourism industry. On the positive side, I've felt the frisson travel provides, the stimulating, edifying, even life-changing experiences. 

The negative side concerns the environmental effects of overtourism: pollution, destruction of fragile locales, devolution of residential neighbourhoods into transient rentals, and the results of dependence on the industry as a prime revenue generator.

Photo: Western Mongolia Tours

Travel companies, aware of the increased sensitivity to overrun sites, now promote packages off the beaten path, though clearly that means the path is now Beaten, and the next stage is To Death. Apparently some don't mind; in her New York Times article about Millennials who are flocking to remote regions like Mongolia, Lauren Jackson notes that the number of visitors to Antarctica tripled in the last decade, and that permits for climbing Mt. Everest are at a record high.

Two friends' fall plans reflect their awareness and attendant behaviour. Katrin visited in September, enroute to her regular summer stay in Quebec City, where she studies French. Her return trip, which crosses two-thirds of the continent, will be by rail, instead of air.

While here, she took every opportunity to engage with locals, whether my friends, or—on a slow morning—a friendly boutique owner. Such moments extend even brief encounters beyond the transactional. 

Sitting in a Greek café, we pondered our limits concerning responsible travel. Are we to clip our wings, at our age? We thought not; Katrin was a travel guide in Europe, and saw how exposure to other cultures opens minds. 

The same week, I heard from Alice that she is spending a long weekend in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania with her daughter, Annie. The only place I've known Alice and Annie to visit together is Paris—what a change! Over a long weekend, they will explore Pittsburgh's vibrant food scene, visit specialty museums (including the Andy Warhol), and hop on bikes to see historic sites. Theirs was a deliberate choice  made to avoid tourist-dominated cities.  

Le Duc has long tried the patience of friends and even casual acquaintances by expressing his opinion of their tour to a destination like Galapágos, by saying, "If you care about this place, don't go." I am not so strict, but have asked myself several searching questions lately:

#1. Which trips will be most enlightening and engaging now? How do I know that?
If the source is a piece of breathless travel writing or alluring Instagram post, I warn myself not to literally buy it without considering whether it is right for me.

#2. Where, of all the places I would like to go, is my presence likely to cause the least damage to the environment? This list names over-visited sites and provides antidotes, but if everyone goes off season, that preferred strategy will lose its palliative power.

#3. What would I do there? If my primary contact will be other tourists, that's a red flag. My two short-haul trips this fall are by train, to see friends; when I spread my wings farther, it will likely be to a place where I know someone, or at least have a mission beyond a Top Ten Sights list.

My friends currently on the road include a pilgrim of the Camino de Santiago and a garden-tourer, a music lover who travels thousands of miles to see a rare opera, a gourmet determined to eat chili crab in Singapore. Ghislaine, the Camino hiker, has shifted her annual pilgrimage to roads less taken. Eric can't change the destination of his opera, but chose to go by rail and bus rather than fly, and planned his trip to include more time in the area. 

"The people are so relaxed and warm here!", Katrin said, as we walked in autumn's honeyed sunshine.

Square Jacques-Cartier, Old Port, Montréal

But on a Saturday evening, when we visited Montréal's Old Port to attend a concert, I heard a busker in the square berate passers-by who barely glanced his way. In English, he enjoined them to stop and watch his fire-eating show. When he was ignored, he repeated the message in French, throwing in a few  swear words. 

I was sorry about the scene: a dispirited performer touting a routine show to jaded tourists trudging to overpriced restaurants in a neighbourhood teeming with hawkers and gawkers.

This is one reason why those van tours of Outer Mongolia are selling out: our ever-more-populated world is harder to escape. Maybe an answer is to find small, quiet places of beauty, and commune instead of posting.

Katrin and I laughed at ourselves, because despite our principles, we could not resist the allure of a  flamboyant bower of tulle and fake flowers installed in a downtown shopping centre, a magnet for  photos —and I reflexively struck the look-at-me pose.

Travel provides stimulation, delight and discovery. The tour catalogs and Insta sites fan those desires, but the time has come for questioning our journeys; some travellers have dialled down their wanderlust to wanderlike. Full disclosure: Next spring, Le Duc and I might get on a jet again; I'm researching possibilities. Because he will be in the seat beside me, it definitely will not be Venice.

P.S. Good links

1. For women who travel alone or are looking for a sympatico group of women to join: the free, independent newsletter Journeywoman posts many organized trips, along with travel tips. They also list Journeywoman Verified vendors.  

2. An acquaintance (age 80) and social activist is off on her third adventure with Wild Women Expeditions and recommends them highly, not only for their trips, but their awareness. They promise to "leave the environment in better shape than we found it."

2. If you are a contrarian like Le Duc, or want to know how they think, this New Yorker essay is for you: "The Case Against Travel", by Agnes Callard. He is not as hard-line as Emerson; you look for such mercies in a long marriage.