Enjoying being a tourist in Israel.
Admittedly, I roll my eyes at tourists. While living in Ireland, I even spoke with an Irish accent to avoid being mistaken for one. Every time I travel, I intentionally forego my white tennis shoes, and I find a guidebook that is unassuming and plain. (Generally, I tuck a guidebook into my purse, and only open it while no one is looking). I brush past slow tourists, and take photos covertly, keeping my camera at my waist rather than up near my face.
But I am beginning to understand that tourists are a good thing. Sure, tourists mean an increased GDP. But more than that, I love seeing local tourists–tourists who explore their own countries.
If 2/3 of Americans don’t have passports, that means that Americans are exploring America on their vacation time. We have disposable income to travel within our own country. In Asia, when climbing Mt. Fuji, I discovered that submitting the mountain is not only a touristy thing to do, but that it is a touristy Japanese thing to do. At the end of the trek, I was surrounded by probably 2,000 Japanese climbers, all enjoying a part of their own country. I have sunned myself on Spanish beaches, where the dozens of Spaniards around me put my pale skin to shame. A country with its own home-grown tourists means a wealthy country.
Conversely, while enjoying a safari resort in Kenya, I looked around and saw lots of plump Europeans. The only Kenyans in sight were the ones serving us our mango juice. The Ghanaian coast beach resort that I spent a night at was filled with white guests and black employees.
Tourism is a good thing. But even more, tourism with local tourists is a wonderful thing. It is a sign that the country is supporting itself. It is a sign that the people of a country believe in their landscape, and that they are proud of their surroundings.
I love tourists. Tourists mean hope for the future.
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