Why the pyramids are not worth seeing
As a child I was fascinated by the world we live in. I grew up devouring books and maps and every second of history and geography lessons. I was especially fond of Greek mythology after hours of exposure to the “Hercules, the legendary journeys” tv series. I learned about Ancient Greece, the gods, the regions, the Mediterranean cultural world. Bathed in the French education system, I was taught about the French medieval times, the beginning and end of the Roman empires (yes at multiple points in history there were several), the Châteaux de la Loire, the absolute monarchy, the château de Versailles, the commune revolution and the French defeat of Dien-Bien-phu at the hands of the Vietnamese. The young African kid wanted to see it all. The Angkor temples, Machu Pichu, the Lascaux caves, the Dubrovnik citadel, Montmartre, the temple of Abou Simbel, the piazza San Marco and the Venice carnaval.
For most of my life I dreamt and hoped for the moment where I’d have the ressources to achieve those dreams. I now have this opportunity and every time I plan a trip or a vacation, I’m overjoyed. Until I truly realize where I’m going and what it means.
There was one factor I hadn’t taken into consideration, a simple factor yet heavy with consequences: I wasn’t the only one. What applied to me, also applied to everyone else. They too saw the world’s beauty and grew as curious and fascinated as I was. They too wanted to see it all and be in awe of all the wonders they learned about as kids. Not only would they go, but they would also tell their friends and circle about them (through Gigabytes of Facebook/Instagram content). As a result, the worlds most famous and revered places overflows with tourists and lost the distinctive and almost sacred appeal they once had. Wave after wave, hordes of consumeristic photo, selfie-maniac, souvenir shopping, tour organized, fuel burning invaders assault the world’s treasures. As I’m browsing for my next destination, these images come to my mind and my hands freeze. First because I don’t want to be that guy and that’s not at all how the context in which I envisioned my discovery of what I almost consider holy sites. Second, because even if I got over my scrupules and decided to go anyway, it wouldn’t be fun. I wouldn’t want to be and feel pressured by a loud and rushing mob incapable of perceiving the place and the moment other than through the lenses of their phone cameras. Third because I can’t help but despise the ambiant consumerism and ignorance reflected in people being there just because it’s a «must see»/ «must show that I was there» psychology and who do not really grasp the magnitude and historical, human or spiritual depth of what it is they’re looking at.
That’s for my individual preoccupations and concerns. I believe they are relevant but then again in the big picture, my tiny person matters very little. What matters is the global impact.
Finding numbers on the volume of visits on famous landmarks and sites is easy. Major and iconic locations (such as the Acropolis, Santorin or the Taj Mahal) count visitors in the millions annually and even less iconic sites (such as Cinque Terre, the Notting Hill neighbourhood, or the Lalibela churches) still rack up hundreds of thousands of visitors yearly. As you can imagine, millions of visitors year after year, decade after decade or even century after century have an impact and regrettably not always a positive one.
On the environmental level, waste production (littering, goods production and consumption), pollution (tourist buses, cars, cruise ships), and human activity considerably degrade both the ecosystem and the precious structures they host ( think about how used the walls and stairs of Istanbul’s St Sophie must’ve become after repetitive pressure by millions of people for centuries).
On the economic level, a change in goods and service production occurs in order to accommodate the international visitors even at the detriment of the local economy. Starbucks, McDonald’s and other chains, understandably, want their share of the tourism cake and will follow their customers wherever they may go. The locals also indulge into merchandising their culture in order to reap their share of benefits. You can find plethora of guides, souvenir shops (massed produced abroad), or even shoe keepers and shoelace tyers for holy sites. The economic ecosystems mutates into tourism centered dynamics, forever burying whatever trade or speciality preceded.
On the human level there is no, or very little connection between the visitors and the locals. The former aren’t too interested in diving into the essence of the site. It’s too mindful and intellectual, too nerdy and boring. It’s not effort time, it’s vacation time! They came to see, to do, and buy a product or an experience. The latter are building a commercial experience to indulge their customers. Sure you can attend the tea ceremony, but it’s only in 25 minutes so the performer (!) can finish her break, put on her costume (!), and bring you back to the ancient times… for a mere 15$. But no pictures. Urban locals see their neighborhoods invaded and often trashed leaving them to suffer the dark side of their fame.
Visitors go home, proud to say they’ve “been” somewhere, “seen” things and “know» about a place when all they really did is scratch the surface through the screen of their IPhone. The following year their friends will do the same, at the exact same place, the same way. And on and on, as we’ve done for centuries, each time contributing to destroy a little more that which we claim to admire so much.
My hand is still frozen on the mouse. I can’t decide what to do. Torn between what I’ve always wanted and is also my right (after all why should I tighten my belt and cut back on my childhood dreams while nobody else gives a damn and acts carefree?), and my desire and hope to preserve our collective wealth for another couple of centuries.
It’s a tough call and I don’t know what the right solution is. What I know is that the world is vast, filled with awesome sights and human experiences for those willing enough to divert from the trends and peer pressure.
I don’t know yet where I’ll be heading and, as a Montreal columnist did, I don’t know if I’ll publicize it much so as to preserve it. What I know is I choose not to be a part of the problem and I’ll spare the Gizeh Pyramids my presence so they can still stand and feel the sun‘s caress for a couple of more millennia.
