Is Tourism Killing Travel? - Undividing #32

Because I feel like I'm part of the problem.

Welcome to Undividing where we are reconnecting a divided world

Hey there everyone,

I’ve been travelling a lot of the last six months; Australia for Xmas, Sardinia and Rome for spring, and Madrid for work.

I’m very conscious of my good fortune to do this. I have a bit of savings, time, and live in the middle of Europe.

And this trip to Madrid was to speak at a US company there about Undividing. This thing I started a bit over 6 months ago with 200 subscribers is changing my life in ways that now involve travelling with the message of Undividing.

(Side note: I would love to do LOTS more of this work. DM me if you'd like me to speak at your company or group. I tailored the talk I gave in Madrid to a program they had on during Pride. I’ve also given talks via Zoom and Teams.)

But there has been this feeling creeping up on me, that I can’t shake. Travel doesn’t feel as fun as it used to. As someone who is a huge advocate for getting out there in the world, seeing new ways of living, and growing understandings between us all, I find a strange taste in my mouth when I start booking anything.

It’s not just the surveillance pricing on hotels and flights, the insane cleaning fees on your no longer cheap Airbnb, the tyranny of online portals with hidden fees and no human to talk to, or the way we are sardined into ever more delayed flights and trains.

It’s very much the destinations we go to and the people who live there too—Airbnb culture and illegal flat sublets that have pushed out residents, neighbourhoods losing their soul, the massive overcrowding of popular cities in peak months, chains replacing local businesses, the rising costs of everything from food to rent to parking.

Tourism in 2025 feels less like exploring cultures around the world and more like it’s destroying them.

I’ve started asking myself, what has travel turned into? Why are we doing it? And is it just creating more divisions instead of bridges?

If you know a friend who would love to get in on this conversation, forward this week’s newsletter on to them.

Let’s get undividing…

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Trastevere ain’t what it used to be

Trastevere is a suburb in the centre of Rome on the west side of the river, and holds a special place in my heart. It’s my partner’s favourite place to stay in his favourite city.

We were there last time two years ago, and it was the city where after getting to know each other and letting our feelings grow slowly, I fell in love with him in front of a painting in a palazzo as he explained the story of Venus disarming Mars. So when we decided to revisit it for our anniversary, I was more than excited to see the city again.

But something felt off. Not with us, but with Rome. Everywhere we went we were battling to see it; the places we visited before we’re now sold out of tickets days in advance, the crowds at the places all getting pics of themselves meant that it was hard to just stand somewhere and enjoy it, and the prices of everything now made eyebrow raising dents in our savings.

The moment though that really brought it home was when we walked through Trastevere with a Roman friend of Erik’s who’d just moved back. He was shocked to see that all the bakeries, leather workers, bag makers, and every other kind of craftspeople and their stores were all gone.

In their place? Tourist trap restaurants, Airbnbs, nightclubs, gift stores, ice cream shops, and bars. Nothing was left of what had made this place something people wanted to visit.

“All these people have come here to visit a ghost,” he remarked.

Tourism had killed the very thing that made this place worth visiting. It was a resort town to a version of itself that no longer breathed air. And something about the way he said it made me so sad.

And worse, I felt like I’d helped that happen.

At the one hole-in-the-wall real Roman restaurant left in Trastevere that we always go to several times each trip, sitting outside now meant a front row seat to the endless parade of tourists passing by. And then we saw what you always know is the death knell—the stag and hens parties; loud, drunk, and shouting.

In my thirty years of traveling this planet, I’ve never felt like this before. And I did not like it.

Tourists Go Home

I saw that slogan (and much cruder versions) graffitied in many places and thought, they mean me.

Residents all over Europe and the world are revolting against the onslaught of tourism and the lack of action by their governments at any attempts to stem the flow.

The water pistol attacks in Barcelona were the first time a lot of folks around the world heard of the unrest. And this photo became the symbol of it, igniting similar protests all over the continent.

Japan’s yen has been at an historic low, which has prompted many friends of mine in Berlin who’ve had a lot of income insecurity over the last year, a relatively inexpensive place to visit that’s long been on the top of their bucket lists.

Most returned however to say that while it was amazing, mind-expanding, and more than they imagined, you could feel in the air the discontent by the Japanese. A culture starkly different to the West, they told me many foreign visitors not only didn’t understand it, but didn’t care and were quite happy to disrespect it.

And perhaps the anti tourism backlash reached its high water mark with Bezos-Sanchez’s wedding in Venice. I’m sure you’ve read all the articles. Wow, did the Venetians hate that.

Or so I thought.

In this article in Business Insider, a reporter sent there to cover it discovered that most of the locals didn’t really care that much. Many were in fact happy for the boost in income. The sentiment was the rich have been coming here for centuries and that they as Venetians had bigger problems; water damage of buildings, infrastructure, overcrowding of boats, and the usual concerns of major Italian cities with the Mafia. The wedding was largely cordoned off from the public.

Hmmm.

It made me wonder then how much of the backlash that’s reported in the media is real or a story. And is my own guilt more a function of not getting the experience I was hoping for.

It made me start asking myself…

Why are we even traveling these days?

Googling around, I found a bunch of articles that talked about each of these three modern traveling catalysts.

• Selfie-tourism - the performance of authenticity

When Erik and I took a boat to go and see the beaches up one slice of Sardinia, we discovered very quickly that we were amongst thousands of folks in a day being shuffled through the beaches that had been divided up by the tour companies.

“I only came here to get that shot,” exclaimed one woman arguing with the boat crew when she realised our tour wasn’t going to the beach she’d been desperate get a shot at.

The one we landed at was wonderful. But even here, there were clearly a select few sites most had come to get a shot at. Outside the crop marks of the hundreds of photo shoots going on we watched people line up to get that shot jumping off the cliff, or standing in front of that rock face with amazing natural patterns, everyone convinced everyone else was in their shot.

These travelers were chasing a carefully curated authenticity that doesn’t reflect the truth of where we were all at that day. Which made me start thinking that all these thousands of folks weren’t having the experience they wanted. Yet there we all were, trying to record it like it was.

• Escape culture

We are traveling less to go somewhere but to escape where we are. A lot of modern life that I’ve written about extensively here, from hypernormalization, the de-teching of our lives, the culture of making enemies, our political landscapes etc. not to mention families and work—is something that we quite rightly want to turn off for a brief, blissful period.

So when we travel, and I include myself here, there is a sense that the world owes us somewhere unspoilt to stick our heads in the sand.

The problem is twofold here; that’s a lot of pressure to put on the place we visit and, our problems we’re escaping are the same for everyone everywhere we visit.

It was something I first noticed at the end of Covid lockdowns. Released from our apartments and houses, the world was on a mission to catch up on all the places we never got to. And somehow the frenetic nature of that never seemed to go away.

• Last chance tourism

I hadn’t heard this term before. It’s about tourism to see places across the world that are disappearing; The Artic, The Great Barrier Reef, The Maldives. And sadly the list is growing. Places that are so significantly impacted by climate change that they are here now for a short time only.

It’s weirdly like a pre-wake. Like we’ve given up on the idea of saving them.

But you could equally add anywhere where fortunes could change quickly. I never made it to the Ukraine or Beirut. And I’m not sure when I will.

And for LGBTQ+ folks, a change in government can wildly change the reception we can expect on our arrivals. In Istanbul this week, they arrested 30 people for trying to hoist a Pride flag in Pride week - a ban on the event has been in place since 2015.

There’s a race-against-time aspect to a lot of reasons people go to places these days. Which again, makes travel feel like it’s happening out of desperation and not discovery.

We don’t ever really talk about the overlooked harm on the traveler’s psyche, self induced or by social expectations—constantly chasing experiences turns leisure into pressure, discovery into anxiety, and relaxation into FOMO.

When we travel now, are we seeking discovery or validation? Connection or content? And is there a way to do it better?

Should we even be traveling?

100% yes. But it’s the how.

Leah Pattem writing for the Guardian, chronicles in her article the touristification of her beloved neighbourhood in Madrid.

This is not just a story of tourists replacing local people; it’s one of policy failure and economic imbalance. In Madrid, decent food is often still relatively affordable – but the same can’t be said for accommodation. The charming, no-frills guesthouses with lace curtains and wrought-iron balconies are disappearing fast, and the gap they leave behind is being filled by unlicensed rentals in former homes. There are roughly 15,000 illegal tourist apartments in Madrid alone, rising to more than 66,000 across the country.

What Pattem goes on to explain is how the problems of the people are falling victim to the politics of the country, and as usual are split on left and right divides.

Naturally, as a citizen and loving resident of her town she asks the question should any of us be traveling anywhere?

The answer is yes. First, it’s important to put the water pistol incidents in perspective: these are symbolic, isolated acts and far from the norm. More importantly, tourism is vital to Spain’s economy, accounting for roughly 12% of GDP. The country wants tourists, but that doesn’t mean business as usual should continue. National and regional governments, and city councils, must do far more to regulate short-term rentals, support local communities and invest in affordable infrastructure – for residents and visitors.

For residents and visitors… this is the key here. It recognises that we aren’t enemies. We are two sides suffering at the hands of the same issue. And, I think, both looking for the same thing.

The final destination is belonging

Belonging is what I think we’re all looking for when we go anywhere new. Of course it’s to see new things, eat new food, and have new experiences. But for me, it’s always about feeling like for a moment, I belong to something bigger than myself.

And it’s the thing that I’m feeling less and less when I travel to places. Tourism is about superficial intimacy, exacerbated by the fact that it only has to look real enough for a photo.

Travelling is about something more meaningful. A belonging that requires a commitment or reciprocity. Which can be hard to conjure in a week somewhere. However it made me think about how when I’m in Rome, we return to the same restaurant again and again. The food is fantastic, but it’s the recognition from the staff there that’s part of the pleasure.

Fleeting yes, but also belonging, yes.

Photo by Timo Stern on Unsplash

Traveling without being the problem

Ok then, let’s look at how we can change turning up in the world and feel more like we belong in the places we go.

Traveling Off-Season: If you can it’s a great way to do it. Sure you miss the best weather. But the lower prices, fewer people, and greater connection to the locals and place itself are worth it.

The last trip to Rome I’m comparing with was in February 2023. We packed jackets, but brought home lots of good memories.

Untravelled Capitals: Exploring less popular destinations as a way to see the country in a more relaxed way. For every London there’s a Birmingham, Tokyo an Osaka, Berlin a Hamburg. And not in a get-there-first way. In way to experience more of the authentic culture that a country is famous for. That isn’t that exact waffle shop you saw on your feed in the capital.

Integration, Not Intrusion: Go to local markets, a concert, a community event based on a hobby of yours. My rule is also always to learn ten words of the language; please, thank you, one beer, where is the toilet etc. It’s amazing how much mileage you get for this, and the joy it brings to the faces of locals that you cared enough to step into their world.

Staycations: Treating our own towns as destinations. I’m constantly amazed at what’s here in Berlin when I take friends around and see it through their eyes. Or finally going to the places in our own countries that maybe seem less exciting than going somewhere totally new and foreign.

Often you discover that there are places so different to where you live in the same borders that it feels like you went somewhere a plane ride away.

Even when I was broke as hell as a screenwriter in LA, we’d sometimes do weekends at each other’s places in different parts of town. It’s amazing how two nights on your mate’s fold out couch an hours drive from your house can feel like an adventure.

People are the greatest landmarks

Two things to close out.

One thing I always notice when I tell the tales of where I’ve been, is that they’re almost always about people.

The moment I had with the guy at the parking meter in Cagliari I’ll tell till the end of time. The Note I wrote about it got hundreds of likes, lots of comment and restacks too. Because people love stories of connection to people, especially if it’s us telling it.

This work trip to Madrid I just made gave me the chance to see my good friends Jorge and Semih, and also my oldest friend on the earth—Justin, who I met at 14 in high school. Yes I could have gone to all the things in Madrid you’re supposed to, lined up to get into the best restaurants, but none of that would have fed my soul like talking till 3am with my friends.

And I didn’t post a single moment on Instagram. In fact, I turned my phone off for vast tracts of it. Stealing my attention back from the world, to give it to some of the people I love the most on it.

Their faces are what I found myself smiling about all the way home on the plane.

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And that brings us to the end of Undividing #32.

Till Thursday when we do the next Emotions Diary, let’s move through this world undividing, and see what this planet can do.

Karl

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