Recently, I found myself nodding vigorously to a news segment where angry residents of Venice were waving banners, chanting about “overtourism” while trying not to get run over by a gondola full of Instagram influencers. I was right there with them—fist clenched in solidarity, espresso in hand, murmuring something deep like “Yes, tourism is ruining our cities.”
And then I remembered… I’ve literally been one of those tourists. Just last summer, I was in Barcelona, probably standing in the middle of a narrow street with Google Maps open, wearing a sunhat I had no business owning and asking a weary local where the best authentic tapas were. (Translation: where the tapas are cheap but still photogenic.)
The kicker? I got annoyed that the Sagrada Família was crowded. The audacity of other tourists being there while I was trying to have my deep, spiritual Gaudí moment.
That’s when it hit me: I am the problem I complain about.
Hypocrisy Tourism: Now With Complimentary Snacks
It’s not just tourism. Oh no. My hypocrisy is a multi-platform lifestyle. Take my frequent rant that all the quirky little shops in my town are disappearing. “It’s a disgrace,” I say loudly over the sound of an Amazon package being scanned at my door for the third time this week.
The truth is, while I mourn the closure of independent bookshops, I also love getting that thriller I suddenly need at 11pm, delivered in 24 hours. Or 6 hours. Or possibly (fingers crossed) by drone.
I want artisan bakers and old-school greengrocers, but I also want bananas delivered in 15 minutes by someone on a moped who may or may not be breaking the sound barrier.
We Want the Cake (And Next-Day Delivery of It, Too)
This contradiction runs deep. I want quiet, peaceful cities with no tourist traps—until I become the tourist and desperately need a place that serves pizza, speaks English, and sells fridge magnets.
I want charming cafés with wonky tables and weird decor—until my oat milk latte isn’t quite right and I find myself googling “closest Starbucks.”
We’re a generation of walking paradoxes, posting angry rants on social media platforms built on the very algorithms we despise for ruining attention spans. We loathe consumerism while wearing ironic T-shirts that say “consume less”—which we bought online.
So What Do We Do?
Honestly? I’m not suggesting we all go live in yurts and grow our own quinoa. But maybe the key is a bit of awareness. Before we complain about tourists, maybe ask ourselves when we last disrupted someone else’s city with our roller suitcase and loud sandals. Before we tweet about Amazon killing high streets, maybe consider buying a birthday card from the tiny shop run by an actual human who lives nearby.
We’re all a bit hypocritical. The world is complicated. And sometimes your only options are:
- A handmade soap that smells like disappointment and costs £14, or
- A 5-pack of lavender-scented ones delivered tomorrow for £4.
I get it. I live it.
Conclusion: Embrace the Hypocrisy (Just a Little)
I suppose the goal isn’t to eliminate all contradictions in our behavior (because lol, good luck), but maybe just to notice them. To laugh at ourselves a bit. To admit that sometimes we are the tourist, the disruptor, the online shopper who just needed an air fryer at 2am.
Life’s messy. We’re all just trying to make it through without accidentally gentrifying a town or wiping out a bakery. But hey, the first step is admitting it, right?
Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to book a flight somewhere nice. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere undiscovered. And I’ll totally support local businesses while I’m there.
Just after I check what’s available on Amazon Travel.