As an industry, tourism generates more ironies than most. The most trenchant paradox is that as international travel become more accessible it accelerates cultural convergence and becomes nugatory.
Business travel must shoulder even more of the blame. I know from experience how, arriving in an unknown city late at night in a different time zone with a client meeting a few hours away, one craves the simplicity of familiarity. Multinational hotel chains recognise this and pander to our weakness. At every Marriott, JW smiles down paternally from a huge Ruddigorian portrait while you check in, a talisman promising that the bed will be as soft here as it was in Frankfurt and the towels as fluffy as they were in Melbourne. But the balance between the anodyne and cod-local is carefully calibrated: business travellers relish unique touches, provided they don't interrupt the smooth flow of commerce. Local cuisine alternatives at the breakfast buffet are acceptable, provided the international standards, embodied by Kellogg's, are there too. Recounting the peculiar breakfast tastes of the natives makes good travellers' tales back in the office.
Leisure travel is a different matter. An acquaintance from my PwC days who travelled regularly on business and whose life was consequently spent in a haze of identikit hotels, booked a holiday with some colleagues in a log cabin, eager to experience the traditional way of life. There was a mixup and the tour company explained that their primitive accommodation was double booked. Don't worry, they said, we're giving you a free upgrade to a 4 star hotel. Most of their customers would undoubtedly have been delighted but my colleague explained to the baffled company rep why this was not satisfactory. Given no alternative, they accepted the offer, but being a lawyer, he also negotiated a full refund.
© David Thompson 2012
Business travel must shoulder even more of the blame. I know from experience how, arriving in an unknown city late at night in a different time zone with a client meeting a few hours away, one craves the simplicity of familiarity. Multinational hotel chains recognise this and pander to our weakness. At every Marriott, JW smiles down paternally from a huge Ruddigorian portrait while you check in, a talisman promising that the bed will be as soft here as it was in Frankfurt and the towels as fluffy as they were in Melbourne. But the balance between the anodyne and cod-local is carefully calibrated: business travellers relish unique touches, provided they don't interrupt the smooth flow of commerce. Local cuisine alternatives at the breakfast buffet are acceptable, provided the international standards, embodied by Kellogg's, are there too. Recounting the peculiar breakfast tastes of the natives makes good travellers' tales back in the office.
Leisure travel is a different matter. An acquaintance from my PwC days who travelled regularly on business and whose life was consequently spent in a haze of identikit hotels, booked a holiday with some colleagues in a log cabin, eager to experience the traditional way of life. There was a mixup and the tour company explained that their primitive accommodation was double booked. Don't worry, they said, we're giving you a free upgrade to a 4 star hotel. Most of their customers would undoubtedly have been delighted but my colleague explained to the baffled company rep why this was not satisfactory. Given no alternative, they accepted the offer, but being a lawyer, he also negotiated a full refund.
© David Thompson 2012
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