Everybody Hates a Tourist
Friday July 1, 2005 - Permanent link to this post -
I, like many others in our nation and throughout the word enjoy the art of travel. I don't necessarily have to go far, not even out of the county, but I like seeing things I've not seen before. When I go to these places, be they two hours away or 2,000 miles away, I take my time to look around. I take photographs and read plaques on walls and information boards. I stand around with my eyes to the sky taking in the subtleties of the surroundings. I frequent the tourist attractions and the major landmarks, and every now and again I try to get a taste of local life. It is this point, I have learned, that makes me a bad person.
Pick up any guide book or watch any travel programme on the television and you will encounter travel writers and presenters who openly suggest that the only way you can truly enjoy your visit to a holiday destination is to sample the local delights; the restaurant that's slightly off the beaten track; the quiet back-street pub steeped in history. “Go where the locals go”, they say. But what if you are a local? What if you live in a tourist town or a seaside resort? What if you are the retired mariner who props up the bar at the quiet back-street pub? When tourist season comes around, thanks to the guide books, your local delights are no longer your local delights.
I live in York. A tourist city steeped in history and very popular with visitors from elswhere in the UK as well as those from farther reaches. I work quite close to the City and on a lunchtime will often walk into town to run errands or get a sandwich from arguably the greatest sandwich shop in the North of England, Krusties. Krusties is an unusual place. It's tucked away on a small side-street in the centre of York and is immensely popular with those who know of its existance. It's a tiny shop front with limited standing room. The queue is usually out of the door and getting fed quickly relies on the patrons "knowing the deal". You get in, you read the board whilst you're queuing (if you don't already know what you're going to order) and you get out of the way until they bring it out to you. This works will most of the time, but when tourist season is at it's highest, the chances of the shop being found by a non-regular are greater. The queue gets unbearably long as a family of Americans stand at the counter asking what the gluten content of the Cajun Chicken Baguette is and whether the slush-puppies contain artificial colouring.
And it's not just the sandwich shop. The pubs too. Tourists stand out like a sore thumb and make the indigenous patrons uncomfortable in their own space. More often than not, this in turn makes the visitors uncomfortable thus spoiling the experience for everyone.
Tourist spots are tourist spots for a reason. It's where the locals want the tourists to go so they're not in the way. If the tourist spill over into the non-tourist areas; if segregation breaks down, what then? Will the locals revolt? Will I be popping into the nearest theme-pub after work on a Friday. Will I eat my lunch in child-friendly restaurants? Will I start paying a fiver for a coffee? If the tourist boundries creep, the locals' will have to creep back.
So what's the answer? Maybe this is just something we have to live with. An evolution in travel. Should I be more accomodating to “outsiders” or should I be doing all I can to protect my city (where, incidentally I was once a tourist)?
But of course, we're all tourists somewhere.

you could always move to a place that no one ever wants to go to.
Unfortunately, Tristan’s right — the only way to avoid the tourists is to move where no one wants to go. That’s why I live in Nottingham! ;)
My mum used to run a guest house, so I guess I’m biased towards being an accommodating yocal. As a local though, you tend to know the really good value places to eat, etc. I think touristy places and rising prices has it’s place, but I agree that it shouldn’t be so over the top that it alienates locals.
Oh, also in York: check out Cafe Culture on Goodramgate – it’s also niiiice. And the Cornish Pasty shops. OK, I’ll shut up now – I’m showing my compulsive sandwich-eating disorder now.
Man I love those cajuns!