This spring, I traveled with my husband to two European cities—our first international trip since the start of the covid pandemic. Judging by the crowds we encountered at prime tourist sites, we were far from the world’s only “post-covid tourists.” We were lucky enough to be able to afford about a month each at small rental apartments in Barcelona and then Paris—a wonderful chance to get some different perspectives about how a more resilient human world might work.
Both Barcelona and Paris get considerable income from tourism. According to official figures, almost 26 million visitors made an overnight stay in the Barcelona region in 2023, spending 12.75 billion euros ( or 13.8 billion dollars). About 100 million visitors come to France in non-covid years, making it the most visited country in the world, with Paris one of its most visited cities. In 2023, Parisian tourism generated revenues of 63 billion euros. Tourism in each city employs over ten percent of the work force—an important component of their overall economies.
The proprietors of our rental units were accommodating and helpful. Our lodgings contained useful tour guides with hints to optimize our access to both famous and lesser known sites. In both cities, there were many restaurants and food choices, including some at affordable prices. During our journey, we did not encounter any personal rudeness or threatening behavior. However, there were a few worrisome signs in our surroundings.
One day in Barcelona, we visited its museum of contemporary art, tucked away along a side street an easy walk from our apartment. The building itself is a work of art, filled with adaptable exhibit spaces and easy access ramps. Outside is an extensive plaza where we watched young men and women practicing their skateboard moves. As we left the area, I noticed a large mural on an adjacent wall. The overall wording was beyond my elementary Spanish or my even more limited Catalan, but the message was clear. The accompanying graphic, a “welcome mat” inscribed in English with “Not Welcome,” told me what I needed to know.
Recently, some locals expressed similar sentiments by going to prime tourist venues and squirting patrons with water pistols.
Protests in Barcelona are partly due to the way tourist lodging seems to distort available housing stocks. Though the rental income from our apartment helped sustain our proprietor’s family, it may also have helped drive up longer term rental prices for local residents. Not just in Europe, but in resort areas in the U.S. as well, we’ve heard laments by long-term residents about the hollowing out of local cultures and services when a town or region becomes too dependent on tourism.
A ski resort, a summer retreat, a place to go to view autumn colors, a city with an abundance of museums and historic sites—none of these by themselves support local transportation infrastructure, schools, or other public services. Tax revenue can fall short of providing the level of services wanted. If too many non-tourism-related locals leave, the networks of volunteer groups that help make a community thrive can wither and die. Similarly, becoming too dependent on tourism can exacerbate income and wealth inequalities. Service workers crucial to successful tourism can find it impossible to afford housing near where they work. Long-distance commutes, sub-standard housing, and exhausted workers then can blemish even the poshest resort.
Tourism-driven economies can also generate excess trash and pollution. The streets of old town Barcelona were sometimes cramped, loud, and dirty. Traffic jams all over the area were getting more frequent and disruptive. In Paris, tourist taxis sped by our building nearly 24/7, along with police cruisers, sometimes with sirens blaring. They made it more difficult for visitors and locals alike to get needed rest.
Finally, as covid so dramatically showed us, tourism is not a “core” industry. In a health crisis, millions of erstwhile tourists will stay home, leaving hotels and restaurants standing vacant, their staffs suddenly unemployed.
An appropriate level of tourism will vary from place to place. Paris, for centuries a tourist magnet, may be more robust than most in its efforts to be a “host city” that works. In a week or so, it will become the site of the 2024 Olympic games, estimated to bring in about half again as many as its already abundant annual influx of tourists.
While governments and economists continue to wrestle with how to “solve” the tourism conundrum, those of us who travel and/or host can help make tourism more mutually rewarding. As travelers, we can prepare with some basic education about the places we plan to visit, make responsible choices in itineraries and accommodations, use our best manners and be respectfully curious about habits and customs different from what we’re used to “back home.” As hosts, we can be more patient than we might be with fellow locals, do our best to assume positive intent by our visitors, and provide clear instructions about the use of available services.
Whatever our role of the moment, we can acknowledge both the value and the limitations of tourism.
Jinny's Occasional Poems 