Damn Tourists

by Liam Ash (United States of America)

Making a local connection Spain

A snake of people -- a sweaty, massive snake of people -- weaved itself in and out of the cathedral. Like so many scales they rolled along one by one, and like so many ticks others searched for sustenance. “Balloons!” “Jewelry!” “Cold water!” One man sat isolated where the snake folded over on itself but didn’t touch. His eyes were coldly veiled by sunglasses. In his hand he smugly held a sign: WHAT DID YOU DO TO DESERVE ALL THOSE SELFIES? Seeing that his patience was low and his standards high I broke off from the snake to have a word with him. I thought I might ask if he found me ugly, but judging by his demeanor I thought an affirmative answer too likely. I opted instead to ask: “Pardon me, sir, what exactly does your sign mean?” “It’s about these damn tourists -- they have no engagement with the culture and the individuals.” I nodded as I noted his isolation in spite of the moving mass of people. “They act like locals don’t exist.” Between his eyeless glare and his defensive stance I couldn’t help but wonder why. “And they don’t care or ask us what we think.” His laminated selfie-resistant sign reflected the sun into my eyes. I replied: “Well, mister, I’m talking to you, surely not all tourists are that bad.” “Yes, and you’re doing a great thing! That’s the most important thing in really understanding a culture.” Before I could finish giving myself an imaginary sticker, he continued: “But you’re the exception, not the rule.” I frowned. He continued: “People take all these pictures, all ‘me, me, me,’ never knowing the history or the people. They don’t know all the culture.” His received pronunciation became clear to me at that point, and I began to wonder if he spoke the region’s native Catalan, or at least Spanish. “They come here and they think they own the damn place!” It just then occurred to me to ask: “Mister, are you from here?” “Oh, I moved from London two years ago. Why do you ask?”