Since When Did Travel Become An Exercise Of Acute Narcissism?

Once filled with the sounds of suitcases rattling over the slightly uneven pavements, pulled along by bewildered tourists, my local streets now echo with the sound of children's voices playing outside near-vacant landmarks. Today these landmarks offer locals an intimate experience to explore the top tourist attractions in their backyards.

The sad thing is, though, the novelty of being a hometown tourist has come at a steep cost. Right across Bali, the backdrop is one of shuttered shops and abandoned hotels, reminding one of the devastating economic impacts the plunge in tourists numbers has caused. However, in some perverse way, perhaps this awful pandemic has, for what Nehru once referred to as 'the morning of the world,' been given the island time to catch its breath.

The ten million or so visitors from around the globe who flock here every year have, in many ways, debased this paradise and dragged much of the local culture along with it. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and the plethora of other social media sites are the invading hordes weapons of choice for narcissism appears to be an essential ingredient of the 'travel experience. 

We all love to travel, and along the way, we naturally meet other travellers who regale you with tales of their time on the mythical 'road.'  You know the type; a Bintang T-shirt, baggy trousers and well-worn sandals that, whether you like it or not, will try and captivate you with their tales whose narrative will always be proceeded by the catch cry, "when I was in…" Or that awful descriptive adjective to conclude the trite story, "amazing."

It often makes me wonder; if travel is supposed to make you infinitely more interesting, why are most modern-day travellers so terribly dull. These latter-day Marco Polo's feel compelled to write rambling blogs and post endless photos on Facebook as if every soul who is unfortunate to be their friend must be regaled with their newfound wisdom. When one thinks about it, just 50 years ago, the idea of 'taking off 'to discover the world was a concept alien to most until along came the baby boomers. First, those devotees of free love and, even better drugs, were pioneers of the extended 'foreign holiday. Next, their children in the 90's chose even more exotic destinations when the ubiquitous 'gap year' was somehow invented as a white, middle-class rite of passage.

Since then, I sadly begin to wonder whether travel in this day and age is somehow losing its ability to make us wonder. The Internet, the addictive drug of choice for today's society, has perhaps, in its way, been the leading cause of this phenomenon.  I can not but notice my fellow travellers in airports, hotel lobbies, restaurants, and hostels glued to screens as I travel. Their expressionless faces illuminated by the glare of their phones, laptops or tablets in constant contact with the homes they had intended to leave behind in the first place. 

They research endlessly, seeking the most economical flights, restaurants and hotels in advance, guided by their peers who have scribbled dubious reviews on Trip Advisor.

Of course, there is the sexless "Siri' who will assist you promptly with all that you need to know about your next stop on a journey. When she asks, "how can I help you?" The answer should be, "Siri, would you be so kind as to expunge all motivation and curiosity to perhaps ask a stranger to assist in recommending a suitable hostelry or a cosy tavern." But, no, Siri will, in seconds, beam a suggested itinerary complete with price points and reviews directly onto your screen and all you have to do is follow her instructions. 

I swear she is single-handedly shrinking our capacity for independent discovery and all at once demystifying the allure of foreign places. 

Has travel today become simply an exercise in narcissism? Is it just another way of desperately seeking some semblance of uniqueness out of an otherwise soul-crushingly mediocre existence?  I want those who have a genuine desire to explore and discover regaling me with tales of faraway places around my dinner table, not some flake who ate, prayed and loved while on a wellness retreat at a high priced spa in Bali. 

Reading back over this article so far, I detect a certain arrogance in its tone, and I apologise for that. You see, I'm a travel writer, which is a cunning word code for a work-shy character with way too much-misguided respect for the value of my own travel experiences. 

Until this pandemic clipped my wings, I used to spend days on end researching and hammering out stories that encourage people to visit places that may well be better off without their patronage. And I do confess that I diligently watch the clicks on the various sites I publish on to see whether anyone has bothered to read my narrative. 

So when it comes to narcissism, perhaps I am as guilty as the rest.

Another annoying this is that seemingly essential part of every traveller's luggage, the ubiquitous selfie stick. Armed with this device, one can demonstrate in real-time to all those trapped at home' that you are dancing in Dubrovnik, frolicking in Finland or chilling out in Chile. Never mind the scenery, it's all, "look at me, and look at me some more!"

I am certainly not saying that travel is not without merit, far from it. However, at some point in their lives, everyone should get away from it all and discover new places. Write a journal, and by all means, record every step of your journey on social media if it makes you feel that you are doing something meaningful. But, remember, if your travel experiences are a way to 'tick all the boxes, or to record just how many countries you have visited, then travel isn't making you that much more fascinating. Instead, it's reinforcing your position as merely one of the crowd.

And really, if that is the way you choose to experience the wonders of this planet, so be it, but I hate to say that even a little bit of travel is never going to enlighten you.

Bali, Indonesia September 2021

Paul v Walters is the author of several best-selling novels. In addition, he scribbles for several international travel and Vox Pop journals when not cocooned in sloth and procrastination in his house in Bali.