Living in the modern world can sometimes feel too real. Many of us long for simpler times in our own lives when we believed in magic, fairy tales, and other enchanted things. In this post, we discuss the link between enchantment and authenticity, and where you might find some enchanting and ultimately renewing- experiences while travelling.
Children aren’t the only ones who need enchantment. Photo by Author
In an earlier post, I talked about the philosophical aspect of authenticity. One philosopher cited (Charles Taylor) has spoken at length of the value of enchantment in an authentic life. To support all those seeking enchantment in their travel experiences, read on for five enchanting places and events that authentic travelers may wish to experience.
Five Enchanting Places and Events -Winter to Early Spring
1. Northern Lights
Who wouldn’t feel a sense of awe and wonder when gazing at this eerie natural display. Places to view the Northern Lights include Norway,
Northern lights in the Yukon. Photo from Tourism Yukon website
2. Outdoor Evening Events in Winter
Just because it’s cold doesn’t mean you have to spend your nights indoors. Many cities program their public parks to make them friendly and inviting for citizens to spend evenings there in Fall and Winter as well. New York City’s Bryant Park, with its Winter Village is one of these destinations. Vancouver hosts an annual Christmas Market, and for 2016 the market included a lighted outdoor maze . Selected other cities offering outdoor evening events include: London, England, which just opened up a new outdoor ice rink that is lit in the dark, Luminosity ; and the Christmas Market on the Champs Elysees in Paris . While these are commercial events, you can still enjoy the friendly crowd ambience in most of these by walking around, without actually spending money.
3. Spooky, but spiritual music in the dark
On Sunday nights from January through November, if you are in Vancouver at 9:30pm and like your enchantment to have a musical dimension, check out the Compline Service at the downtown Christ Church Cathedral (see photos of the service ). Full disclosure- I used to sing with this Choir many years ago when I still lived in Vancouver. I still love the stillness and peace of this service as a visitor. You don’t have to be religious to get something out of the peaceful, undemanding meditation it offers.
4. Spectacular Seacoast vistas
There are a range of beautiful seacoast vistas that can make us feel enchanted- especially when the surf is pounding and the wind is making you feel super-charged with kinetic energy. Some of my favourite seacoast destinations include: the Oregon Coast; Tofino, British Columbia; the stretch of Highway 101 that runs north from San Francisco; and Italy’s Amalfi Coast.
Glass Beach at Fort Bragg, California
5. A Daytime walk in the forest
There is something wonderful about walking in a beautiful forest, even when the weather is bad. As someone with a dog in my life, I am often compelled to seek out these places in the rain, and am almost always the better for it. To learn more about why forests make people feel so much better, see this previous post on forest bathing.
Finding enchantment in a new place opens up a realm of possibilities for travellers seeking authentic experiences, as well as a sense of personal renewal. This blog post has covered five that are accessible and powerful during winter time. A future post will also explore spring and summer opportunities for enchantment. I’m also eager to hear others’ experiences with enchanting places and events.
You’re more likely to have an authentic travel experience if you’re clear on what it means for something or someone to be authentic- period. It’s also fitting to think about authenticity at the start of a new year. This post explores what authenticity means at a deeper level, before suggesting some ways this definition might help inform our travel choices and experiences.
What it means: to the dictionary and to philosophers
If you look up the word “authentic” in the dictionary you’ll find lots of references to origins, roots, and being genuine. Being one’s true self also factors into the mix. But what does this type of truth mean?
French philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau believed that the way we lead our life should be directed by our inner thoughts and values, rather than just external social norms. And Canadian philosopher Charles Taylor spoke a great deal about the distinction between one’s inner and one’s public self. In this way, any effort to become more authentic involves:
reflecting about what motivates and constrains us at a very primal, individual level; and
appreciating the similarities and differences between what is best for us as individuals compared with what society says we should do.
Of course, an important argument against searching for the authentic self is that it can encourage people to be, well… selfish1. But Taylor suggests that we could have our cake and eat it too. He says that a quest for understanding the true self can come without resulting in selfishness- the key is in embracing self-transcendent values and experiences. Self-transcendence means a person consciously accepts s/he is one small part of a larger universe. And Taylor argues that we must also recognize how even our authentic individual self isn’t static or constant. Instead, our authentic self is something both enabled and constrained by the broader social values and culture that surrounds us, even though our authentic self is also much more than that2. We don’t exist in isolation, but as part of a larger whole that shapes us, and which we in turn shape. So authenticity involves a search for what is good, true, and transcendent. And it’s fluid, meaning what worked last time won’t necessarily work the next time. This search for authenticity may, but does not have to, involve religion and/or spirituality. For Taylor, even time spent with beautiful music, art, or poetry, can help us achieve a certain level of self-transcendence3.
Then what does this mean for authentic travel? If we follow Taylor’s suggestions for leading more personally authentic lives, then authentic travel can involve a quest for (at least) two broad strands of authenticity. One is about finding experiences that help one embrace what is good, true, and transcendent in oneself. And another is about spending one’s travel dollars to reinforce or support, those places that have embraced what is good, true, and transcendent in their citizens and public institutions. We’ll talk about the first strand here, and examine the second in a future blog post.
Travel experiences that boost personal authenticity
What type of travel helps a person find their truest self? Following Taylor’s lines, this type of travel might involve experiences that help us set aside (at least while travelling) some or even all conventions and habits in our own lives that keep us from being good and integral people, or as good and integral as we believe that we could be. For example, an authentic traveller might seek travel experiences that propel him or her to:
lose track of her or himself in the experience;
become more curious about (and kinder to) others who initially seem quite different;
build his or her courage muscles; or
enhance an ability to be generous.
Some find self-transcendence in settings close to nature
An authentic traveller could even choose experiences that help us do all three at once. (And, of course, these are not the only self-transcendent virtues around.) Also, depending on who you are and what your starting point is on any of these things, that might take a range of forms. For the inexperienced traveller, building one’s courage muscles might simply involve travelling alone for the first time, and learning how to talk to strangers from another culture. For others, it might involve connecting with a place in ways that cause other forms of personal growth- strengthening one’s navigation skills; being deprived of certain daily luxuries that we suspect may not be great for us. In his guest article for this blog, Allan Herle undertook a long overland journey by motorcycle where he felt he had more immediate contact with people living in towns in ways that were quite different from his own lifestyle. This experience helped him grow as a person. Self-transcendent travel could include volunteer experience, such as helping to build housing in another country; restore a wildlife conservation area; or teach schoolchildren English. It could help us interact with another group to learn more about other ways of being human.
The idea of authentic travel as seeking self-transcendent moments opens up a range of exciting possibilities. I’d love to hear about how other people have gained these experiences. And watch for a future post discussing places that have embraced what is good, true, and transcendent in their citizens and public institutions.
Christopher Lasch (1979) cautioned that the emphasis on exploring the authentic self in fact sounded dangerously similar to the diagnosis for narcissistic personality disorder. Lasch, C., 1979, The Culture of Narcissism: American Life in an Age of Diminishing Expectations, New York: Norton.
For a more fulsome discussion please see the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy entry on authenticity .
For a clear, concise discussion of Taylor based on extensive familiarity with his works, see Bernard Braman’s (2008). Meaning and Authenticity. Toronto, Buffalo and London: University of Toronto Press.
I had been enjoying a soak and reading about the expected appearance of a supermoon that very night. A supermoon occurs when the moon is closer to the earth than at most other points in the year. In 2016 we get to enjoy this phenomenon not once, but three times-again on November 14th and then December 14th. (For a more detailed explanation of this phenomenon, check out this short video from NASA .)
We all know that the moon has inspired legends and provided a setting for romance. Its light and presence in the night sky can turn merely beautiful urban scenes into spectacular ones. And so after reading this, I could barely stop to towel dry before poking my head into my husband’s office to announce my quest to see it. Ever the team player, he agreed to drive us both, plus our trusty dog, to three potential viewing spots across town. Unfortunately, said supermoon did not materialize. Well- we knew the moon was there, buried beneath layers of clouds, but there were no glorious vistas of the bright glowing moon to be had.
This brings me to the more important point of this piece. Sometimes when travelling, a trek to a site or monument fails to deliver what you expected. Sometimes you may never even find the site at all. And here is where many travel guides and bloggers (myself included) will encourage you to focus on the joys of the journey itself. Sometimes that approach works, and reflecting on what you saw along the way really can compensate for the missed/ disappointing main attraction.
And sometimes it just doesn’t. What could have potentially been a romantic mini road trip for us was anything but. My spouse was at his snarky best, making a point of taking everything I said literally in an attempt at a laugh, but neither of us was feeling it. It was 10pm on a Sunday night when we were both fighting off colds and not feeling that we’d had enough of a rest on the weekend.
We eventually accepted that the moon would not reveal itself on that outing. When I finally did see it (from the car window en route home), the moon was just a wispy daub of faint light on a canvas of dark but unremarkable clouds smothering the night sky. No epiphanies. Except it felt wonderful that I had someone who was willing to go on a crazy outing with me at an unlikely time of day. And we both noticed that the night sky was brighter than it usually was. So we resolved to try again in November.
There has been controversy about the preservation of building facades in many cities, often seen as a consolation offering from a cynical developer who wants to rid a community of its history. But cities have been removing and reusing parts of themselves for centuries-including in the eternal city -Rome. For a compelling discussion of this practice, I highly recommend this thoughtful posting from the University of Washington’s study abroad course called Engineering Rome .
In an earlier post, I spoke of the link between urban murals and authentic community expression (to read, click here ). Since then, Vancouver has had its first ever public mural festival. For more information on the festival generally, click here. To see some of these gorgeous works of art, click here. And watch for a new posting from me very soon.
Featured image courtesy of The Matrix Makeup Dept.
The urban imaginary and authenticity. Wow- sounds like that came from a textbook. But we confront these two ideas every day when we travel, and also at home. The urban imaginary is about the unseen aspects of a city- literally how people imagine or perceive a city and their own interactions with it. If you’ve seen the film “The Matrix”, you know how extreme the difference between the real and the imagined can be. This post appreciates that distinction; and it considers how travel might (or might not) engage in healthy ways with the urban imaginary of cities.
Some differences between the real and imagined aspects of a city may be subtle. A city may be considered “friendly” or “aloof ” in the urban imaginary. How different is this from reality? It may be hard to verify. But where differences between the real and imaginary are more tangible, they may lead to action. For example, if locals think of their city as very modern, they will view everything through the lens of modernity. Anything that is not modern and high tech is seen as an exception -or something to be eventually “fixed”. People in (and travelling to) Copenhagen might view that city as eco-friendly, and bike-friendly. And so eco-friendliness and bike-friendliness become part of the urban imaginary of Copenhagen. In the latter instance, fixing aspects of reality that don’t mesh with the urban imaginary can produce many positive benefits for locals, such as added cycling trails, or new buildings with energy-efficient features. Sometimes the urban imaginary is simple, at other times it is multi-layered.
The idea of the urban imaginary has fascinated many scholars and philosophers. For urban planning scholar Edward Soja “The city exists as a series of doubles; it has official and hidden cultures. It is a real place and a site of imagination. Its elaborate [set of physical attributes] … is paralleled by a complex of attitudes, habits, customs, expectancies, and hopes that reside in us as urban subjects” (Postmetropolis, 2000:324). In short, these attitudes, habits and hopes are part of the urban imaginary -and of authentic urban life.
Following Soja’s understanding, to travel authentically one would seek (through one’s travel choices) to uncover various aspects of the urban imaginary that locals hold. In an earlier post, I mentioned the value of reading local newspapers or blogs by local people to find out what they care about (click here ). In addition, one could uncover the urban imaginary by talking to local people about how they see their city- what they love about it as well as what they would change if they could. The term “urban imaginary” probably won’t resonate with most, but good questions and a genuine interest can tease this out, and enhance understanding.
Not all aspects of the urban imaginary lead to authentic experiences, though. One of the more famous takes on the urban imaginary comes from French scholar Jean Beaudrillard, who talked about the problematic blurring of the real and the imagined, and complained about the “Desert of the Real”. This desert emerges when an idealized version of reality (captured in various symbols representing that reality) are preferred to the more mundane versions of reality (warts and all). For the record, The Matrix stole shamelessly from Beaudrillard. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, because it called our attention to an extreme that deserves reflection. And let’s face it -probably more people have seen The Matrix than have read Beaudrillard.
An example in travel terms of a Desert of the Real might be a coffee shop that calls itself “Le petit café typique parisien” (the typical little Parisian coffee shop), which is laid out, and staffed with people who take great pains, to fit the stereotyped tourist version of a Parisian café, down to the haughty waiters. This stereotype might have drawn upon aspects of the urban imaginary, but likely only its most superficial -and probably more from the tourist urban imaginary than the local urban imaginary. Where a quarter or district has more “petits cafés typiques” than restaurants that have evolved in less self-conscious ways, one could argue that the entire district has become a Desert of the Real.
A similar situation exists in a Las Vegas Hotel that will go unnamed, designed around very superficial replicas of Italian urban landscapes, including canals and gondolas but flanked with luxury shopping opportunities (minus the inconveniences of the real where one would have to navigate in Italian, and confront pigeons, Vespas, plus crowded sidewalks). And it doesn’t necessarily have to do with whether or not chain stores are present or absent, unless they start to become a monoculture and to reinforce only the simulated understandings of the neighbourhood.
Desertification is not just about stereotyping- it is also about leaving out various aspects of reality (including people and stories whose presence detracts from the simulated version of reality). Think of gentrifying neighbourhoods you’ve visited, where initially artists mix with lower income people, and then people of means start to buy homes in the area, drawn by the ability to identify with artistic and creative types but eventually pushing out the lower income people and even, often, the artists who initially helped attract them. Avoiding desertification is not always about blocking gentrification. It is about remembering that, where people value authentic communities, they will make efforts to ensure there still remains room for those who might otherwise be excluded. This could include social housing, housing cooperatives, and affordable rental units in new buildings within the district. I have mentioned Vesterbro in Copenhagen in an earlier posting. Vesterbro is a great example of a community that has remained authentic as it upgraded the built environment, by ensuring housing remained accessible to the neighbourhood’s original inhabitants. In a similar vein, I love my local Starbucks, because it has been very accommodating of people who are best described as neighbourhood characters, and who don’t always purchase while hanging out there. (But I still take care to support the nearest independent cafe too.)
So how else can you appreciate the local urban imaginary and avoid “Deserts of the Real”? Here are some questions to ask yourself when planning your next trip:
Will my itinerary lead me to neighbourhoods where people from a mix of incomes and educational backgrounds are likely to be present? If not, consider adding in places where this presence exists.
In a heavily tourist-oriented precinct, what opportunities are there for me to connect with varied (perhaps even opposing), stories about, and perspectives on, this place and the artifacts that I am seeing? Seek out these opportunities, and favour sites where they exist.
To what extent has this store/ restaurant had to change business practices just to cater to tourists, rather than locals? If the answer is “a lot”, consider a place where the answer is “partly, but not a lot”.
You might also want to check out a related post for further tips (click here).
Getting in touch with the urban imaginary of your next travel destination in a positive way will take some effort, and perhaps a bit of research. It will be well worth it, though, and could lead to any number of pleasant discoveries- perhaps even a few surprises.
An earlier post noted how hard it is to agree on what is “authentic” and, by extension, what can make travel experiences authentic (or not). Sometimes you just know it when you feel or encounter it. In addition to cultural authenticity (which we looked at previously ), there is also an urban design aspect of the authentic. Read on to see and learn more about design’s role in enabling authentic travel.
So what exactly is urban design? This term refers to the way that the built (and formally shaped or landscaped) aspects of the city interact with human experiences of the city. And even when design is not purely “authentic” in its strict sense, good urban design creates enough comfort that people believe at least some elements of a place are authentic. In this post I discuss two basic urban design concepts behind places that tend to make people feel good, then speak to ways that designers have tried to sort out what is and is not authentic. There are many more concepts that can apply, so this is not the first or last word on urban design.
Urban Design 101 -the Ideas of Kevin Lynch
My city planning background has exposed me to several theories of designing livable cities. (warning: planning geek alert). Many people have heard about Jane Jacobs, whose theories focused more on scale and mixes of uses or activities. There are other classic design theorists from her era with a stronger sense of why people feel the way they do in certain places, including Kevin Lynch and Christopher Alexander. This post focuses on Lynch’s ideas from his book The Image of the City, because they have shaped even the newer approaches and theories in use today.
Lynch was a wonderfully clear communicator who spoke to why certain designs make us feel better than others. By showcasing what people were already doing, and how these techniques were impacting city dwellers and visitors, he helped new designers and city builders focus more on the good aspects of centuries of city-building traditions while also moving on and embracing new things.
Lynch clarified that five basic elements go into good urban design: nodes, (appropriate) edges, paths, districts, and landmarks. I want to focus today on two of these concepts: nodes and edges.
Nodes
A node or focal point in design terms is a place that concentrates people and activity. New York’s Times Square is a node, combining open space, lots of commercial activity, and many ways for people to access it.
New York’s Times Square. Author photo, February 2012.
A node can also include a vital stretch of a retail street with lots of pedestrian activity (e.g. Oxford Street in London). Sometimes nodes are popular open spaces, but usually these are popular for a reason -people are drawn to them because there is an activity they can do or watch together. Even if people come to a place where they remain largely alone, a node typically makes even quasi-solitary activities feel vibrant because there are other people there, whose energy is palpable. And sometimes the features that draw people may be temporary, as with the Picnurbia installation below that ran on Vancouver’s Robson Street in 2011, where the City temporarily closed two blocks of the popular shopping street and installed low-cost amenities that encouraged people to just hang out.
Nodes often feel more authentic when the activity in question is one that also appeals to locals and /or the nodes have a strong connection to something that has played an important role in the history of a place. So even though people today might complain about all of the chain stores now populating Times Square, it retains a strong link with key events in New York’s history (e.g. Vietnam War protests), and remains close to a vital theatre district that continues to draw people. But it isn’t just the use of the square that makes this and other nodes attractive. A landmark like a statue, public art, clock tower, or large old tree (and another design element in its own right), can create a focal point for a node in a way that is both socially and aesthetically appealing. The photo below, of Trafalgar Square in London, shows how a statue and adjacent fountain create a natural clustering point in a much larger open space.
London’s Trafalgar Square. Author photo, June 2011.
Nodes may also be defined by edges, which help make people feel secure in them. In the next section, I explain how edges work.
Edges
So yes, edges matter—but why? Lynch valued their role in helping define a space, by giving it a clear end and beginning. Edges, when done well, make us comfortable, by reducing a sense of being visually overwhelmed. The walls of buildings can help define a street edge, for example. The photo below shows how this can work:
London, Notting Hill. Author photo, June 2011.
Yet if the height of a given building is too high, without variation or interruption; or the horizontal wall effect also lacks these things, the building (which might have provided a sense of comfortable enclosure) will overwhelm rather than comfort.
As with many things in life, good edges are about getting the balance right. For this reason, skilled designers of taller buildings might step them back, or further away from the street after a few stories -to improve the building’s positive effect on the street edge. A long line of buildings of similar height might be broken up visually through periodic colour /stylistic changes. Here is an example of this technique applied in Vancouver, and a feature of the design approach that quickly became known as “Vancouverism”:
Sometimes it helps to think of an edge as a type of picture frame. And in that respect, other edges (besides building walls) can be more suggestive than literal. For example, we’ve all seen pergolas that help define a garden without completely closing off access.
Also, edges can be enhanced or animated through uses that add people doing social /socially-approved things. A good example of this might be a European square or space that is already defined by building walls, and then enhanced by people sitting at cafe tables right next to those edges. They make plazas and squares which might otherwise seem a bit too large feel like a more comfortable size, without a permanent size reduction. When Jane Jacobs described her ideal urban village, the mix of street-oriented retail uses catering to people from a range of backgrounds (florist, produce-seller, coffee shop) ideally achieved a similar type of animation.
Sidewalk cafes in Stockholm. Author photo, June 2011
Some of these principles are being applied in less organic ways, such as in new shopping mall developments. I have conflicting feelings about this. These applications truly are an improvement on the traditional shopping mall approach to design, plus chain stores have to make a living too. And in the mid-day sun, the example below would have more people. But is it authentic? Here again, the answer might relate to balance…
Edges don’t just have to work in high density settings. Even in a lower density historic suburb, edges can clearly distinguish between public and private property without completely shutting people out. Nan Ellin referred to this as porosity, where flows of people are filtered (See her book Integral Urbanism). The photo below shows a fenced yard (perhaps to discourage deer, who are notorious garden-eaters), with a clearly open entry point that is welcoming to humans who want to visit, but might be more intimidating to an animal that could feel enclosed by the narrowness of the entry portal.
Vic West home. Author photo, July 2016.
So how does good urban design enhance authenticity? On one hand, it does this by increasing human comfort at an intuitive level, and helping people to feel good in a space and to appreciate sharing the space with others. Good design will be an important reason that congregating in a space or on a street will feel natural, in addition to the mix of activities that will also draw people. Nodes (including landmarks) and edges are two of several elements that author Kevin Lynch argued make us feel good in the cities where we spend time. Even so, as authors like Sharon Zukin argue, if good design is accompanied by other events and practices which exclude, the end result is a place that starts to feel hollow and contrived. In a future column I’ll focus on her ideas. For now, the next time you find yourself hanging out in a new city, consider reflecting on how its nodes and edges enhance or detract from your sense of comfort there.
In this posting, I take the concept of authentic travel in a different direction, exploring a type of activity you can do while travelling which will put you in touch with your own health and well-being. In the first part, I discuss the Japanese notion of forest-bathing and why it’s terrific for you. In the second part, I discuss three different ways you can have a forest-bathing experience while in a city away from home.
What is Forest-bathing and Why Do it?
Forest-bathing, or shinrinyoku in Japanese, involves time spent walking in the forest and purposefully breathing in the aromatic compounds (anti-microbial wood oils) released by the trees in it. Not only is this a pleasant and relaxing activity -it is also good for you.
A study of Japanese men and women tested whether people would see health improvements after time spent walking in the forest, as compared with a relatively tree-free city environment. Results found decreases in stress hormones for the forest-bathers. They also found higher activity among clusters of cells believed to play a role in killing tumours and releasing anti-cancer proteins. This was enough for the researchers to tentatively suggest a role for forest-bathing in cancer prevention. And the health effects of just an hour or two in the forest setting were found to last up to one month. To see this full study (Li, 2010), click here .
When travelling, especially in a major metropolitan or historic centre, you might find yourself overwhelmed with all of the new sights and experiences you are having. As a North American who loves the historic centres of Europe, usually about ten days in to any trip I often find myself overwhelmed by all the heritage and art, and craving a day of respite. If you’re like me, a trip to the forest can be a wonderful palate-cleanser (so to speak)- a way to recharge that can be health-boosting as well. Finally, in the spirit of authentic travel, your trip to the forest will bring you in contact with an experience enjoyed by many locals.
Author photo, Spring 2016
How to Forest-bathe in a New City
I suggest three ways to do this, starting with the ideal -true forest immersion as well as two potentially more accessible alternatives if you’re without a car and transit access to a forest is difficult.
1. Full-on Forest Immersion
This approach is the ideal, and involves spending time in a preserved forest area with little or no human intervention – i.e., a non-manicured space where nature is pretty much left to do its thing, aside from trail maintenance and perhaps washroom facilities. These spaces are often found at the outskirts of cities, although sometimes you can find them within the limits of newer/ smaller cities. In Vancouver, places like Pacific Spirit Park within the University Endowment Lands are a special example of this type of non-manicured facility that is even accessible by transit (for more info, click here). In other areas, though, accessing these spaces is more likely to require a car or at least special tour bus. Knowing that you might want this type of experience on your trip, it pays to either research beforehand or ensure you have good Wi Fi access while on holiday so that you can look up access options.
Author photo, Fall 2015
2. Expansive 19th / Early 20th Century Parks- Landscaped, but Lots of Trees
New York’s Central Park, designed by Frederick Law Olmstead and Calbert Vaux, in the mid-19th C is a great place for forest-bathing. I love how diverse this park is- allowing you to combine restorative greenspace exposure with more formal gardens, trails, and even proximity to the Museum mile. Several subway stops will put you within easy reach of this park. According to one researcher, Olmstead was an early advocate of forest bathing for its medicinal and restorative benefits, even though he didn’t use that term. To read more, click here here.
In Europe, you might want to access this type of space at Paris’s Bois de Boulogne, designed in the mid-1800s as a royal hunting ground (for more info click here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bois_de_Boulogne ). And in Rome, be sure to check out Villa Ada- located in an appealing northern suburb, and accessible through a 30-40 minute walk or by tram. This park is wonderfully restorative- particularly in the areas filled with umbrella pines, like the one in this photo shown below. I spent over a month in Rome several years ago, and this was a favourite hang-out spot, where I felt quite safe.
For a map and very short description about Villa Ada, click here. For a greater range of photos of the park, click here. And as a bonus, if you time things right, you might be able to attend the Roma Incontra Il Mondo music festival or the Roma Folk Fest (happening July 30, 2016).
3. Tree-lined streets and small parks.
Often streets can provide us with an amazing sense of respite if they are shaded with trees. In urban planning circles, efforts to strengthen the presence of trees in cities has led to many initiatives making streets greener and cooler in summer. London is quite green as world cities go, and has recently launched initiatives to make its streets and parks even more tree-friendly. For a map of green streets in London, click here . Closer to home, in Portland, Oregon there have also been significant efforts to inventory, preserve and enhance urban trees. To see where the greenest spots downtown are, click here for a map. Sometimes the best way to find a green street is to travel to a residential part of the city and walk towards the greenery. You might discover many other delightful things while having an abbreviated forest bathing experience.
So forest bathing is a great activity for your health generally, and to press the reset button on your psyche when you are travelling in a more urban environment. Even the largest cities can provide you with opportunities to get this benefit, either by travelling to their outskirts, searching for a large, mid 19th/ early 20th century-designed park, or gravitating towards tree-lined streets. And who knows – the experience might bring you some ideas you’ll want to suggest to your city or town council when you get home for greening the streets where you live.
So far my posts have covered small things to help travellers access more authentic experiences. These have been relatively undemanding, small ideas, as I truly believe that small things, when taken together, make a difference.
Today I explore authenticity at a broader level –because reflecting is an equally important part of authentic travel. So heads up: I’m about to get geeky again. In this post I summarize the first of several different approaches to understanding authenticity, as it affects travel. And I fully recognize there is seldom full agreement on what the term “authenticity” means. In Part 1 I discuss the debate about whether travel commodifies culture.
1. Cultural Commodification and Travel
Some critics of tourism in general, and of tourist attractions and entertainment specifically, claim travellers are commodifying local culture. This means that locals will cheapen their own culture to ensure it appeals to tourists. (Perhaps locals do this to redress poverty; sometimes they do this just out of a desire to get ahead.) They will present only the most simple, superficial aspects of it so that it can be marketed to outsiders. And in the process, they will spend less energy keeping alive those aspects of their culture that are less marketable, but give it meaning and enable it to have a positive influence on local lives (beyond the financial). So this type of critique argues that the very process of tourism kills authenticity.
Sounds harsh, right? And doesn’t it take a lot of the fun out of travelling to worry about that kind of thing?
Well, this might resonate with you more if you reflect for a moment on the Christian holiday of Christmas –because something comparable has been going on there. For any of us with a spiritual tradition that celebrates this holiday, the emphasis on buying, buying, buying, and the stress of ensuring everything is perfect for our family Christmas dinners (particularly in terms of the things we have to buy in order to make them so) makes the whole thing start to leave a bad taste for us. The commercial aspect of this holiday wasn’t always so pronounced. In fact, it wasn’t originally meant to be part of it. But –like it or not—the commercial aspect is part of Christmas at the moment. And as more and more of us resent this, we find ourselves investing less energy in even the positive aspects of the tradition, while complaining more about the tradition generally. We also try to reduce the impact of the negatives of the holiday, by avoiding its more commercialized symbols and reducing their presence in our lives.
Similar things can happen for practitioners of other cultural traditions, including festivals, art, music, and celebrating sacred spaces. A good example for me came with my first exposure to Hawaiian culture as a holidaying child in the 1970s. Essentially this culture was portrayed commercially as focused on model-perfect 20-something girls in bikini tops (or worse, coconut shell bras) and grass skirts shaking their hips to the same cheesy song everywhere we went. Often they were Caucasian, too. Performances that emphasized this take on hula dancing were clearly catering to its commercial aspect (sex and sexiness sell). And yet they made the hula seem tawdry -an empty husk of what it really represented to the Hawaiian people as a part of their traditional way of life. But fortunately the story didn’t end there, and the hula did not die out.
Since that time, the Hawaiian people have taken important steps in reclaiming and strengthening their culture in ways that, first and foremost, resonate for them. For some good reading on how this has been happening, check out some of these resources (click here). This also includes efforts to revive the practice of men’s hula (click here ). Hawaiians reached to find a hint of what was authentic about the hula for them, and nurtured it so that the authentic eventually overtook the commercial.
There are other things to reflect on around the commodification question. Not all aspects of commodification have to be bad. Poverty can also be pretty awful; while the money that tourist-oriented cultural performances /art sales can generate the funds needed to support certain ways of life. On this aspect of the debate, the argument goes like this: people should be allowed to make a living -and as long as people from that culture remain in charge of how their local culture. If they pick and choose how to represent the culture, they are more likely to portray it respectfully.
So what should a traveller take away from this debate on authenticity? There are no easy answers. But when choosing where to invest your travel dollar, you may want to reflect on the following points:
Who is in control of how this culture is being represented?
How are local practitioners of this tradition / knowledge keepers being compensated?
To what extent does making this festival/art/music to outsiders take away from its more traditional use/ access for local / Indigenous people to whom it belongs? And on a related note, are local / Indigenous people welcome as audience members / consumers at this same venue that I plan on attending?
Are there ways that attending this performance/ consuming this culture as a tourist helps give back to its Indigenous practitioners?
Just on the topic of Hawaii, on more recent trips, so many more hula performances have been given by community clubs and classes, that have sprung up to make this practice more accessible to community members- and these performances have included lots of grannies and young children, whose family members have also been cheering them on from the audience. In my view, participating as an audience member in these circumstances does feel authentic, because it reinforces and validates a local practice that is benefiting local people. Of course, this can be a challenging line to draw, and in some cases it’s hard to be sure whether participating as a tourist is a good or a bad thing. The key thing is to be mindful, and to try to appreciate the local perspectives.
Next time I post on this angle, I will look at the very notion of authenticity as a commodity. That won’t be for a few weeks- don’t want to bog you down with too much geekiness all at once.)
lullueblog 