So a couple of weeks ago the night before Kate was due to fly back to the UK we decided to splash out on a nice (more like very nice) hotel for the evening. Now forgetting the fact that the night turned out to be pretty much a complete bust with both of us feeling sick at some point and my good self having to leave the dinner table as a result of that feeling, it got me to thinking. From the second I walked into the hotel in question, if you must know it was the Shangri-La in Delhi, I just didn’t feel comfortable. Maybe it was the doorman dressed up to the nines bidding me good day every time I went within 10 feet of him, maybe it was the large groups of well heeled businessmen who were just in the city for a meeting or two or potentially it could have been the fact that I looked like crap and thought that everyone who glanced in my direction thought was mentally composing the letter they would send to the hotel manager berating him for allowing ‘undesirable types’ into their little sanctuary of luxuriousness closed off to the claustrophobic, hot, dusty and poverty ridden outside world.
I have been lucky enough in my 22 and a half years on this fine planet to go to some amazing places and stay in some equally amazing hotels. Hardly any of these trips would not have been possible without my parents (thanks guys) and the following is no reflection on any of this, indeed I am more grateful than I could put into words.
Over the last few months, out of necessity it must be said, I have stayed in some seriously cheap places and eaten most of my food from stalls on the streets and local cafes. Whilst I have been in my fair share of cockroach ridden rooms and eaten some downright questionable food (the place next to the rat populated butchers alley in KL springs to mind) the majority of it has been superb. Some of the hostels and guesthouses I have stayed in have been absolute gems, clean comfortable rooms, rooftop restaurants and swimming pools in the odd rare case, but above all, what has made them stand out is the atmosphere in these places; a sense of ‘homeliness’ and welcoming that you just don’t get in your identi-kit international hotel. The Shangri-La had everything that would could want, your every need was looked after in some way. The rooms were large and comfortable, the pool was cool and refreshing and was very ably complimented by the spa like changing rooms, the restaurants were 5* and the staff were courteous. Why then did it feel so unwelcoming and sterile? There are simply no quirks to a place like this, nothing to make it stand out from the crowd and from its countless brothers and sisters in any large city around the world. It is a carbon copy of the western ideal for an international hotel, a place where people can come, know what they are getting and lock themselves away from whichever city they happen to find themselves in. What is the problem with this you might ask? You might say that being able to log onto the net, give over your credit card details and then turn up knowing that you have a restaurant, fluffy pillows and those little bottles of shampoo in your bathroom is a great thing, it takes the worry out of traveling. Well sorry but you are wrong. What it does is take the surprise, excitement and the slight feeling of nervousness you get when you arrive in a new place out of the equation.
It is possible to go somewhere like Delhi, Kolkata and Kuala Lumpur be met at the airport and taken to your blacked out air-conditioned car, step out of the car and straight into the air-conditioned lobby of your hotel. You can then step back into your car as and when it suits you and be driven to a couple of select sights for a mosey around with your hotel organised guide before returning back to the hotel for a quick swim and dinner in your Scottish-Cambodian fusion restaurant. Now I don’t have a problem with this so much, the individual elements are part and parcel of the world we live in (perhaps without the Scottish-Cambodian fusion restaurant, praise the lord). What I do have a problem with is that people travel thousands of miles for 12 hours or more in order to take part in this ludicrous ritual, return home and over drinks at their $8000 a year country club and begin to lecture people about how they saw the most awful things whilst they were away and something just has to be done about it. What did you see love? A couple of people begging outside of the Taj Mahal who were deftly shooed away by your guide? A woman and baby walking between the cars at a red light begging for a couple of rupees? How about next time you travel you get out of your car and walk along the streets, smelling the rotting garbage and stench of human excrement, take in the sights of countless destitute people on the streets or living under a cardboard shack at the side of the road. How about you look the legless man in the eye as he wheels himself around on a piece of ply wood with scavenged wheels attached to it or the woman who has three naked children covered in flies asleep next to her? As you walk past all the people plying their wares, the small family run cafes, chai shops and juice stalls in order to get to the nearest Starbucks or air-conditioned mall try and think about the impact you are having. Think about where your tourist dollars are going and who they are benefiting because is sure isn’t the local people. Instead some fat sweaty white guy sitting behind a desk in a high backed leather chair and stroking his fluffy white cat is thanking you for providing him with a bigger bonus and keeping his already well off shareholders happy.
By frequenting chain hotels and walking by the small coffee bar to get to the Costa behind, you are just sticking your middle finger up at the local people who thought that with a bit of entrepreneurial spirit and hard work they could make a few bucks from the rocketing tourist trade. You are in effect discouraging people from trying to start something on their own, from turning those cheap semi-dilapidated rooms that only appeal to the budget conscious backpacker into places that for a couple of extra bucks can offer something that no chain hotel can do; atmosphere, a sense of welcoming and above all the knowledge that you are giving your money to the local community, to people who will actually benefit from it.
I’m not saying that every time people go somewhere they should spend hours searching for the small privately guesthouse. Of course there are times when that just isn’t possible, but instead of just going onto the Hilton Website, spend 5 minutes looking though Tripadvisor or scrolling through your Google results for a well run hotel that is not owned by a huge conglomerate or private investment group. Then eat within their restaurant or step outside and walk around for ten minutes until you find a restaurant where the chef hasn’t been imported from Swaziland and the food has been sourced locally.
Before people start calling me a hypocrite and the like I will say that I’m sure in the future I will stay at group owned luxury hotels. What I won’t do however, and I urge you to do the same, is allow myself to be drawn into the cocoon that they offer. I will walk around, smell the air, watch and speak to the people, buy things from well run shops that source their goods locally and eat some amazing food in small local restaurants. In other words after traveling thousands of miles and for tens of hours I will get to know the place I have traveled to.
Chris's Travels 2008 