Clarifying Thoughts

Looking back on my last entry, some might say I was unfair to criticize the hordes of tourists that can be found in Athens. After all, aren't I one myself? In a way, yes. But my criticism came from the realization that my problem is not with those that meet the simple definition of a tourists, but those tourists that pack their own culture in their bags along with their jeans and sunscreen. For what is to be a tourist anyway? The dictionary simply defines a tourist as: "one who travels for pleasure". While this is obviously a correct definition, it is also, most certainly, a very shallow one. What about those who make no attempt to familiarize themselves with the language or the local customs? After all, they are at the mercy of the local population, are they not? I mean really, why does someone wishing to travel for pleasure make their way out to Greece, and, most specifically Athens? It's not for the beautiful modern architecture, the clean streets, or especially the women. No, it's to see the Acropolis and the Parthenon. The Acropolis is an impressive site and one definitely worth travelling for, and my problem lays with the tourists that view the Acropolis as just another souvenir. Another photo on the wall to show your friends, "Hey, look, I've been there." Walking up to the Acropolis itself, being jostled by groups of teenagers all adorned with the same bright tote bags, carving their names into the ancient marble, or the girls more interested in the latest gossip back home, I truly questioned why they had even come. None of these people appreciated what was laid out in front of them, and instead chose to see their travels not as a humbling experience, but as a bartering chip. They saw it through the envious eyes of their friends back home, and not through the historical eyes of the cultural man, which is at it's magnificence in a monument such as the Parthenon.

When large amounts of foreign tourists descend on one place, bringing their language, their clothing, and their customary manners (or lack thereof), it becomes a place not to be viewed but to be invaded. And the effects of these camera-toting invasions are disastrous. To walk down the streets of Athens, to window shop along the boulevards, and to sip on your morning tea under a cafe umbrella is no longer a Greek trait, but a tourist one. Street names, menus, store signs, etc are spelled out in English, no longer in the beautifully challenging Greek alphabet. And for someone like me, who travels to observe a culture, not a heap of stones, these effects are depressing. After all, stones are mortal; they are at the mercy of the sun, the wind, and the rain (and now the boot of the tourist), it's the message, the lesson that is important. That is eternal. Man, and most importantly, culture, is something eternal, something to be valued, not trampled upon. But when it is trampled upon, those wishing to preserve their culture are driven out, to places yet discovered, leaving only the dirty and dishonest behind. One can not walk through the streets of Athens for more than twenty minutes without either a hand straying over your bulging pocket or a toothless man approaching you with the latest scam. It quite literally is a tourist trap; but the tourists themselves are to blame. They have driven out those who were worth meeting, worth sharing a conversation with, worth exchanging a genuine handshake and a word in their tongue, all things that made my time in Bosnia and Montenegro so special, and have only left a vacuum that has been quickly filled by the pale-skin invaders and those who prey on them.