Tag: Travel

That Consummation

Travels, Two-Minute Hate

…devoutly wished:

…comes home to roost:

Spanish officials have admitted that a relentless campaign of anti-tourist protests in Majorca is ‘scaring away visitors’ – with locals claiming some resorts are now ‘completely dead’.

With British holidaymakers seemingly among foreigners turning their backs on the island, its tourism industry is in panic mode as officials overseeing the nightlife sector and tour companies warn that guests no longer feel ‘welcomed’. 

The restaurant association president, Juanmi Ferrer, gave a stark warning that the messaging of the protests is ‘scaring visitors away’. 

Ya think?  Then there’s this priceless bit of wisdom:

Miguel Pérez-Marsá, head of the nightlife association, told Majorca Daily Bulletin: ‘The tourists we’re interested in are being driven away; they don’t feel welcome and are going to other destinations.’

Well, yes;  except that those tourists you’re interested in — the hard-drinking, hard-partying Brits and Germans — are the ones who sparked all the protests in the first place.

Rock, meet hard place.

Here’s the ironic part.

I don’t actually blame the locals for trying to end the seemingly-endless summer invasions of their home towns — it’s as true for Amsterdam as it is in Majorca — but if your sole income is pretty much derived from tourists (unlike Amsterdam, for whom tourism is important but not critical), then I guess the full-time residents of the party places just need to endure… or move.

Unsaid in all this is the fact that young people (the partiers and drinkers) are almost by definition going to be louts and sluts when far from home and full of cheap booze, and so of course you can’t expect them to behave themselves.  While older tourists may be more desirable socially, the old ‘uns don’t spend anything like what the kids do — unless of course they’re buying themselves a holiday apartment, thus driving up the prices of local real estate and making the place unaffordable to the locals.

See where all this goes?

Equally ironic is the fact that a huge proportion of the local population are greatly dependent on those tourist dollars to stay alive, whether cab drivers, bartenders, waitresses, tour operators or restaurant owners.  And they’d all be harmed financially — i.e. bankrupted — as well as the rest who reap the “soft” benefits of tourism such as lower taxes and civic improvements, all made possible by the dollars / pounds / euros of the hated turisti.

Like I said, about those rocks and hard places…

Goodbye To All That

Deep Thoughts, Travels

Longtime Readers will be very familiar with my penchant for travel, especially to the U.K. and parts of Euroland.

However, as I’ve been paging through my travel pic folders to find landscapes and cityscapes to post on Thursdays, a feeling of gloom and melancholy is starting to make its appearance.

I’m not sure I want to travel internationally again.

There are several reasons I make that statement, but let me deal with the easier one first.

I’m getting old, and while my overall health is pretty good (according to my doctor, not just for my age but for just about any age), I’m not sure how I’d feel about, for example, climbing up the steep cobbled street from the ferry dock at Meersburg to the town itself on top of the hill.

Hell, it was tough when I last did it — in 2004 — so now, over two decades later… you get my drift.  And I loved Meersburg, with a passion.

Also, when strolling around cities like Paris or London, I thought nothing of walking all day — I mean, for those who are familiar with the cities, from Notre Dame to Sacré Coeur and back to our hotel next to the Sorbonne;  or from the V&A Museum to World’s End at the other end of Chelsea, and back.

Either of those little jaunts would take me two days, now.

Which brings me to my second thought.

Even if I could do those walks, I’m not so sure I’d want to because of the crime that seems to have overtaken most of Europe’s cities.  It’s not that I’m afraid of becoming a victim of some Rolex Ripper on Bond Street or Rue Royale;  I’m not a fearful person by nature — but I can be an aggressive person when faced by thuggishness of that kind, and I don’t want to deal with the possibility of having to explain to an unsympathetic bobby or gendarme why some little scrote is lying there screaming with a broken arm or, for that matter, having to deal with the NHS or its French equivalent when said little scrote hacked at me with a machete because I had the effrontery to refuse his attempt at property redistribution.

And we all know how the Filth in Britishland regard the matter of self-defense Over There.  Nothing puts a damper on the travel experience like having to explain to some judge why you didn’t want to just let the little choirboy take your property and shake your head sorrowfully at your loss.  That you applied your walking-stick to the little shit’s cranium (in lieu of having the old 1911 at hand) would no doubt land you in Serious Trouble, just as your attitude to the cops being more or less on the criminal’s side rather than on yours might also result in the cop’s uniform being ruined by the flow of blood (his).

Altogether, not a prospect worth spending thousands of dollars (which I don’t have) just to visit their poxy paradise.

And then there’s this little nugget, from one of my most-favored places on the planet:

Most famous districts in Vienna are in the heart of the city and during summer or at Christmas season they become overcrowded, which can lead to pickpocketing, mugging and even terrorist attacks.  In these areas frequented by tourists, bus and train stations, people around you need to be carefully watched and your possessions should be kept close to you.

WTF?  Now add to that the chance that some “migrant” takes offense that your female companion doesn’t have her head covered to his satisfaction… do you see where I’m going with this?

Fuck that for a tale.

One might think, given all the above, that the places to visit in Europe would be those which haven’t allowed untrammeled African- or Muslim incursions.  We’re talking here of Poland and Hungary, for instance.

But here’s my problem.  I would love — love — to visit those two countries, but I’m completely unfamiliar with both their languages, and honestly, I’m not sure that my old brain can handle learning even a smattering of either with the facility that used to be one of my strengths.

This really sucks.

So it may be that at long last, I’ll have to trim Ye Olde Bucquette Lyste of the travel items therein, sadly and regretfully.

I think I’ll just go to the range, assuming my eyesight is still up to the task of seeing the sights of a gun instead of the sights of a foreign city.

Bah.

Travel Tip

Travels

…for stupid people, that is:

“Skip the sandals when you fly — seriously.  If there’s an emergency involving fire, broken glass or the need to evacuate fast, you’ll want real closed-toe shoes to protect your feet and help you move quickly.  Sandals slow you down and leave you exposed when seconds matter.”

I always shake my head when I see people wearing flip-flops or the like when they travel.

That said, I’m not a huge fan of wearing sneakers to fly, either — unless they can be easily removed or put on (#VelcroFasteners).

If I’m flying into somewhere cold — e.g. Chicago or Yurp — the go-to are my favorites, L.L. Bean’s Snow Sneakers:

…although I see with some irritation that they currently only offer these to women.  Fucking morons.   It’s a good thing I ordered two pairs the last time I bought some.  Considering that I only wear mine in winter (i.e. those few of non-consecutive days in north Texas when it’s really that cold), these should last me pretty much for the rest of my life.  (My previous pair lasted me well over a decade, and they went to Europe and the U.K. over a dozen times.)

If you’re interested, try another brand, e.g. Propét (although they look kinda heavy):

All other times that I fly, it’s on with the faithful Minnetonka mocs:

I prefer the moosehide type, because once they’re worn in (which takes about a couple days), they’re fantastically soft and (most importantly) they’re not a hassle to put back on at the end of a flight, when your feet are all swollen from the cabin pressurization or whatever.  They also squash flat in your suitcase to save space.

And yes, I always wear socks when flying and rest my feet on my backpack so nothing touches the airliner’s foul floor.  (Don’t get me started about the fools who go to the airliner toilets in bare feet…)

All that said, my chances of flying internationally ever again are becoming vanishingly small.  But that’s a topic for another time.

An Excellent Idea

Food & Drink, Travels

A long time ago, I was in Brussels on business.  It was to be my first time there, so as always I did a bunch of research on the place:  things to see, places to visit and (of course) places to dine (yes, that’s a major part of my love of travel).

Just off the Grand Place is a street (Rue des Bouchers) lined with restaurants standing cheek-by-jowl together;  so what better way, thought I, to compare the various menus before making a decision to dine?

Bloody hell.

What the oh-so-helpful guide did not tell me was that outside every restaurant stood an extremely aggressive “tout”, who implored, begged and almost kidnapped the unwary diner into the establishment they represented.  Seriously:  one guy actually grabbed my arm and tried to drag me inside, releasing me only when I bunched a fist and threatened to clock him, hard.

The upshot was that none of the restaurants along Restaurant Row got my business that night.  Instead, I found a very nice little pub just off the Grand Place and proceeded to eat (lots) drink (even more) and make merry (to the max), as was my custom in those heady times.

After the experience in that Restaurant Row, therefore, I was overjoyed to read about this action, in Lucca, Italy:

The walled city has experienced a significant increase in visitors this year, particularly after emerging as a ‘timeless gem’ on social media. 

Last year, Lucca reported a record number of one million hotel bookings, and in the first four months of 2024, saw notable rise in visitor numbers.

The city’s leaders have grown increasingly concerned that the influx of tourists and the associated activities are negatively impacting its unique character – now, they’re declaring war on ‘worrying’ restaurant tactics such as touting. 

Touts – known locally as ‘buttadentro’ – are often employed to stand outside restaurants to try to entice passersby to dine there. 

Though they are responsible for attracting customers, some are reported to use persuasive or even aggressive tactics. 

On 10 July, the municipality adopted an ordinance prohibiting the promotion of restaurant businesses in public areas and on public land outside restaurants, bars, pizzerias, and similar establishments.

Mayor Mario Pardini and Councilor for Commerce and Urban Decor, Paola Granucci, said in a joint statement: ‘Lucca is a city with a strong historical, artistic, and touristic identity, and must be experienced with respect and style. Our ordinance does not restrict commercial activity, but protects the urban beauty and safeguards the authentic experience of residents and visitors. We reiterate that promoting one’s services is legitimate, but doing so in an invasive, insistent, or unfair manner is incompatible with the image we wish to preserve for our city.’

Ben fatto, Signori!  Now please get those assholes in Brussels to do the same — you know, in the time-honored EU fashion of sharing laws and regulations across national borders.

And while we’re there:  this?

Rue des Bouchers in Brussels is a lovely narrow street that is lined with restaurants. On display lie mussels, lobsters and oysters, all nicely decorated, awaiting hungry tourists.

It’s a big fat fucking lie.  The only hungry people there are the touts — money-hungry, that is.

Caveat cenator.