Cities confront weight of tourism
The most troubling issue in many European cities these days is not migrants, it’s tourists. From Barcelona to Venice, Paris to Amsterdam, visiting hordes have residents up in arms. Overwhelmed by the sheer number of out-of-towners, locals everywhere are fighting to reclaim their cities from the disruptive forces of industrial-scale tourism.
If ever there was a case of too much of a good thing, this is it. However much money tourists contribute to municipal coffers, it comes at a heavy cost.
As Europeans have discovered, tourism exacerbates inequality. It exerts intolerable pressure on cities: Housing shortages are worsened, inadequate transit systems are overwhelmed, as is the public realm — from cultural landmarks to streets, sidewalks, parks and squares. Little wonder residents feel like strangers in their own hometown.
Last year, Amsterdam introduced regulations designed to stop new tourist-oriented stores from opening in the historic centre. In Paris, the Mona Lisa smiles wanly through a veil of flash bulbs. Poor, beautiful Venice is drowning in tourists as it’s sinking into the sea.
The paradox of tourism, of course, is that it destroys the very reasons it exists. Closer to home, we got a taste of that this summer when a field of sunflowers in Flamborough, Ont., was overrun by mobs of selfieseekers. One Saturday, upwards of 7,000 showed up. When a local highway became a parking lot, police moved in and the place was shut down.
But in an era of cheap flights and an ever-expanding middleclass — in Asia if not North America — everybody wants the experience of greatness. These cities possess the civic equivalent of celebrity. They are famous for being famous, but, unlike human celebrities, accessible for the price of a plane ticket and an Airbnb apartment.
The latest trend in tourism — “set-jetting” — results from the sudden popularity of cities and sites used in film or TV. The best example is Iceland, featured prominently in Game of Thrones. According to a 2017 FocusEconomics report: “Many of Iceland’s glaciers, lakes and national parks serve as the backdrop for the ‘lands beyond the wall’ ... (and have) given rise to massive increases in tourism as the show’s many diehard fans from around the world make pilgrimages.”
Since 2016, tourism in Iceland has grown more than 70 per cent. Last year, visitors outnumbered residents seven to one. Tourism is credited with saving the economy after banks collapsed in 2008.
The problem now is that “tourism is affecting housing and rental prices, and the overall cost of living, as prices for staple goods rise due to significantly increased demand ... although the economy is doing well, risks of overheating are a clear concern.”
Dealing with what’s now called “over-tourism” won’t be easy. How can a city keep tourists away without turning itself into a walled encampment? Some manage better than others. Ideally, the sites that draw crowds are spread out over a wide area. In the confined spaces of the traditional European historic centre, however, that’s rarely possible. But in New York, where attractions can be found from one end of Manhattan to the other, the presence of tourist hordes is less oppressive.
It helps, too, when a community has its own issues sorted out. The more robust a city’s infrastructure — transit, housing, public space — the better its chances of surviving and thriving in the age of mass tourism. Given that 10 per cent of the planet’s economy is based on tourism, it’s unlikely to disappear anytime soon.
Clearly, the problems of urban success must be addressed. When giant cruise ships arrive in centuries-old cities, their wake does damage even before they disgorge their sightseeing armies.
Venice and Santorini in Greece have severely limited the access these Brobdingnagian boats once enjoyed. Others are considering a similar move. Some cities now insist Airbnb demand minimum six-month leases. More are imposing tourism taxes to offset the impact on living costs.
Finding a balance will be tough. Many European cities rely on tourist dollars. But that doesn’t make watching a city being loved to death any less painful. You can’t help but wonder why we still travel to these cities, especially at high season. At some point, surely, we’ll tire of sharing our holidays with hordes of fellow travellers? Then, perhaps, we will finally understand what Yogi Berra meant when he said, “Nobody goes there anymore. It’s too crowded.”