I had imagined the residents to be desperate due to the poverty they face and the small room-sized shacks they live in that resemble a poorly built shed and lack air-conditioning, the thought of which made me shudder as the intense heat of the did not expect much from the Dominican Republic but from the minute I stepped into the heat and humidity I could tell that there was something different about it from the thatched roof and marbled floor of the airport, the sparkling turquoise blue sea and the pearly white sand lining the horizon, it seemed like a fairytale. Walking through the heat I could smell the floral scent of the plant life that thrived as far as the eye could see this filled me with nostalgia as I remembered back to my first holiday. I expected the non-tourist areas to resemble heart-wrenching poverty and i thought that they would fill me with an overwhelming drowning sensation of helplessness but it was actually the most beautiful, serene place I had ever seen. Lavish palm trees lined the roads towering over everyone, vast amounts of brightly coloured plant life was blooming in every colour of the rainbow as far as the eye could see and the snow white sand lined the turquoise sea. Groups of people were laughing on pavements composed of dirt, in front of the amazing plant life whose deep green leaves and luminous petals wsun bit into the top of my head. They all seemed so happy, despite everything, which warmed my heart. Confusion and amazement ripped through
As we drove from the International Airport to our destination, the view from the car window began to change. I noticed how the large buildings and monuments from the capital were replaced by trees and mountains, how the occasional citizen walking their dog became a farmer guiding his cattle, and how the smell of Gourmet Dominican-american restaurants and fancy bakeries eventually transitioned into the smell of fresh baked bread and freshly picked “Dulce de leche” mangoes. In a matter of seconds, I was boggled by the distinct feel of the air I was being introduced to.
I don’t know why, but somehow the image of the white sands between her toes, the large palm trees hanging overhead, the cool ocean breeze, the whole tropical dream, always manages to make a smile on her face. This paradise, I imagine, must be the complete opposite at home, what with being the middle child of a younger brother, Jonathan, and an older step brother, Chandlier, two cats, two dogs, a bunny, and two tropical animals called sugar gliders. This girl, who I thought I could read like an open book, proved to be very surprising and one of the friendliest people I know.
The movie discusses the long term impacts of tourism on cultures, economies, and on the environment. It uses dramatic examples from several beach parties such as Thailand’s Koh Pha Ngan Island. With large amounts of litter lining the shore, the film suggests that the financial benefits of tourism will not work without a proper development plan. The story starts and ends in Bolivia focusing on the impact of the autobiographical book “Lost in the Jungle”. In 1981, Ghinsberg gets lost in the Bolivian jungles. He miraculously survives despite near death experiences. His tale of survival has lured many other adventure travelers to Bolivia, creating pressure to the country’s tourism industry. From the jungles of Bolivia, to the deserts of Timbuktu, Mali, we see breathtaking views of how tourism has affected society. The film follows the well-worn gringo trail travel route in Latin America and beyond, revealing a complex web of relationships between that cultures which collide yet require one another. Finally, the movie reveals certain sustainable alternatives to tourism.
Kincaid stresses the nature of Antiguan people providing for the tourists’ desires by writing, “Oh, the hard work all of this is, and is it any wonder, then, that on your return home you feel the need of a long rest, so that you can recover from your life as a tourist”
Jamaica Kincaid addresses the reader as a tourist in her book A Small Place. Throughout the book her sarcasm and resentment towards the postcolonial state of the country cannot be missed. She exposes the “ugliness” of tourism, she writes, “The thing you have always suspected about yourself the minute you become a tourist is true: A tourist is an ugly human being” (14). Kincaid points to the fact that the tourists (European and American) and the tourism industry are morally ugly. The first section of her book displays how tourism uses the natives and the country as sources of pleasure for the tourists as they make their way to their hotel, they watch in awe at the condition of the country. Kincaid writes, “They [Antiguans] are too poor to escape the reality of their lives; and they are too poor to live properly in the place where they live, which is the very place you, the tourist, want to go—they envy your ability to turn their own banality and boredom into a source of pleasure for yourself” (19). The tourists do not see, and perhaps do not want to see the reality of this picturesque island they are vacationing on. Kincaid writes, “[Y]ou needn’t let that slightly funny feeling you have from time to time about exploitation, oppression, domination develop into full-fledged unease, discomfort; you could ruin your holiday” (10). This mirrors the mindset of not only tourists, but of the past and current exploiters who do not see the suffering and damage they cause, but
Even though I was worried when we arrived here, I could still recognise that this island was beautiful. There were crystal waters and tropical palms. Sand that crunched beneath your feet and coral that decorated the ocean floor. Looks can be very deceiving though, Auntie. It didn’t stay beautiful for long and ever since we landed, I was praying that we would be rescued.
We arose early in the morning, even before the sun broke the horizon, to catch our flight to spend two life changing weeks in the country of Nicaragua. As I struggled to keep my eyes open, I began to prepare for my longest journey away from home. I did not realize what I was getting myself into as my dad drove racing against the clock. We then reached the airport. I was received by a gush of cold air exceeding from the airport lobby. We
When I went to the Dominican Republic I got to see things that were happy and beautiful, but I also got to see some things that weren’t so happy and beautiful. There were multiple people with very small homes and some without a home. Most people had very large families so it was probably very hard for them to live in a place like that where it gets very hot during the day and cold at night. There were also a lot of animals without homes, food, and water. I was very lucky to see the beautiful place, but I felt
She walked and her feet became more steady, this land was not the same as the land at her home, it had flowing palm trees sand instead of dirt and bushes with bright red berries, that Juana wanted to eat, she held her hands together so she wouldn't grab one out of starvation, because she knew they were poisonous. The skys were not the same at home, at home it was humid and hot but here the sky was blue and it was a cloudless sky the sun shown down, but wasn't scorching her skin as
It was the start of our vacation, we were all so excited to go down to the beach and swim in the ocean, and go shopping, and eat all the delicious food. My family’s and I resort that we were staying at was beautiful we had a ginormous condo up on the second story floor. The resort look like something right out of a movie. There was beautiful palm trees with deep green grass
There is a place where not far from my hometown, which, since my childhood, still holds the secrets to life. It was a place where we were free. Free to do whatever we wanted to do, say whatever we wanted to say, it was our place, our river. It was a simple place, no paved or asphalt roads for the commotion of busy traffic, no tall buildings to block out the sunlight, no sense of time to feel rushed or anxious, no effects from the outside world. It was a beach on the coast of Lake Sakakawea called “Little Egypt.”
There are some travelers who see a “paradise” as their final destination; however, it may end up to be exactly opposite of what a paradise should be. This can be seen in Alex Garland’s The Beach. The novel is about several backpackers, Richard, Francoise, and Etienne, who come together and travel to an island community, their paradise, within Thailand. Ultimately, the story portrays the idea of a utopia-like society taking a turn for the worst and becoming a dystopia, something that the backpackers would not have expected. Throughout the story, the theme of a utopia turning into a dystopia could be seen through symbolism such as the “cancer” of traveling and the destruction that it brings.
From the start of “A Small Place,” the author establishes an unsettling position for the reader by using second person perspective to give the audience a personal experience, “The thing you have always suspected about yourself the minute you become a tourist is true: A tourist is an ugly human being” (Kincaid, 14). The act of being the tourist in respect to Kincaid's statement is being unaware of the surroundings and people who reside in this country you refer to as a paradise. She pushes the audience out of their comfort zone to an unsettling acknowledgment of ignorance - if you have traveled and expressed these behaviors. The author presents the idea that the act of traveling with the mindset that indigenous people are benefiting is a form of self-justification rather than reality. Kincaid acknowledges the audience’s ignorance of the situation as an institutional one that educated you to have this mindset. She describes this situation the people of Antigua endured, as something you were not taught, which exonerates your oblivious demeanor toward your surroundings,
I have always found nature to be so amazing from the hundreds of trees and flowers to the animals within the forest. Experiencing nature is one of the best things that could happen in your life. I have always lived near the woods so I can experience nature every day. I have always felt calm when I go into the woods so I go there when I feel stressed. I lay in my hammock for a while or go put my feet into the icy cold water in the creek to get away from the world and just be at peace. To get away from the judgmental glares and the expectations from people.
On this morning we were just glad to not have been woken up to bugs crawling in our beds. What I was more excited about today, was our itinerary for the day. The first part of my morning consisted of sitting at the edge of the rocks journaling and enjoying the view from there. With the sun shining as bright as it was that morning, we decided to move under some shade to continue journaling. Under the shade by the kitchen the view of all the huts were also so surreal, I sat that just letting it click that I was in Swaziland miles away and getting to experience this.