Notes from the Field: Treating Everywhere like Home

By Amber N. Johnson

March 22, 2023

(Adventures in Morocco en route to the desert, 2022)

Today, it is easier than ever to find yourself moving from where you may call home to elsewhere. It could be for a more substantial move, but let’s imagine it’s for travel or a short trip. While there are numerous barriers–be it visa processing, financial, employment, time, confidence, or a myriad of other reasons–there are also more connections, greater access, and more opportunities of possible destinations to count. When considering where to go, whether it be 30 minutes away by personal vehicle, 3 hours by bus/train, or 30 hours through multiple flights internationally, there are decisions to be made. One guiding principle, which I personally find the most valuable to contemplate, is: to what extent will I consider and treat this place like home?

Now, we may not all be defining that difficult-to-grasp-concept of home the same way so, for the purpose of this reflection, let’s consider it as: “where I feel comfortable, what I care about protecting, & where I feel connected to place.” This is a personally defined rough draft definition, but one that feels essential. Broadly speaking, every place we visit has the potential to be such a home for the local residents, not to mention a source of natural and cultural heritage that may extend beyond human life. In considering home and travel or tourism, it is important to touch on the concept–in abstract, and lived–of sustainability.

(Out in the Moroccan mountain regions seeking adventure, 2022)

The three pillars of sustainability, as defined by the United Nations Educational Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) are socio-cultural, economic, and environmental, and are related to the ways in which people interact, practice their culture, engage in trade and commerce, and utilize and protect the natural resources available on earth. These pillars address the key areas to balance in addressing sustainable development, that which “meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs” [1]. In other words, we are asked on a higher level, to care. To care about places, people, and our planet. Today, I want to reflect a little bit more on how we can care more about destinations close and far away, treating them as we would our own homes, specifically: the UNESCO world heritage site (WHS) of the Wadden Sea in Denmark, the cosmopolitan tourism hot-spot of Barcelona, Catalunya (Spain), and the Sahara desert (specifically in Morocco, North Africa).

(Braving the wilderness, literally, in the form of the Wadden Sea in Denmark, 2020)

In the small northern Scandinavian country of Denmark, the Wadden Sea National Park, takes on these three pillars of people, planet, and profit through their management of an incredible natural site. When I first found myself across the pond at this park, I was not deeply aware of what was contained there.

(Venturing across the Wadden in Denmark, 2020)

I mostly found myself wet, unable to catch my bearings, and chasing down a broken umbrella while fellow classmates peered through telescopes to catch a glimpse of Wadden Sea wildlife i.e. seals! While I have to admit my glasses were too fogged up for clear observation, the sensation of being out on the world’s largest tidal flat system was not lost on me. Having first taken a bus from the city of Kolding, then a Mandøbussen tractor-bus pulling us along for a cozy ride, we passed grazing cattle and marshy areas before reaching the limitless horizon of the flats [2]. Decked out in knee high boots and our jackets, and sporting grins as we ventured out, several of us heard our guides casually mention that when the tide comes in early, there’s a risk for drowning. No problem! Just keep with the group! It felt as if we walked on both land and sky, its meeting place beckoning us to continue forward. Meanwhile, we looked down, awed by the fact that digging a mere twenty feet (6 meters) down could already reach some of the 10,000 species of flora and fauna fixed within the ecosystem of the Wadden. Nearly a million birds find temporary refuge here every year, stopping on their annual migration across continents, resulting in a phenomena called Sort Sol in Danish, or ‘the black sun’ [4].

(The intense biodiversity only a few feet below the surface at the Wadden, 2020)

This national park has incredible biodiversity and a shared stewardship between the countries of Denmark, Germany, and the Netherlands [3, 4]. With visitorship reaching 10 million annually, its carrying capacities are not yet overwhelmed but a proactive approach for its protection has been taken [5]. Dr. Janne Liburd, an internationally recognized Sustainability Leader and Chairman of the Board for for the UNESCO World Heritage (WHS) Wadden Sea National Park (2015-2022), emphasizes the ways in which everyday ownership, collaborative destination management, and the personal care of such stewards is what drives sustainability in the park [5]. Lucky for me, she was also a tourism professor of mine at Southern Denmark University (SDU) in Kolding, Denmark through my European Masters in Tourism Management (EMTM) programme, and one of our guiding educators for experiencing this amazing natural site! While we often addressed the guiding principles of sustainability and completed work focused on sustainable tourism development, it was through such a trip to the Wadden Sea that we could better grasp as future philosophic tourism practitioners the lived experiences–how it felt, why it mattered, and how to be a part of the shifting changes toward more sustainable practices. To treat the Wadden Sea as home, to venture out comfortably in a small group with friends and classmates, to understand its natural value in order to develop a desire to protect it, and to be able to connect ourselves to this natural place, a world heritage site, one that belonged to all of humanity. This is a key lesson I carry with me as I support the environmental pillar of sustainability.

(Barcelona--where do you want to go? 2021)

(Playing tourist myself at the Arc de Triomf in Barcelona, 2021)

Recalling a very different locale, I often found myself cheerfully wandering the streets of Barcelona during my semester studying in nearby Girona, Catalunya (Spain). A couple of hours away by train, it was a feasible day trip or weekend stay. The privilege to be in close proximity to such a vibrant destination is not lost on me, but during my time living in Spain, I also developed a vested interest in what this city offered, and often withheld. On the surface level, Barcelona is a bustling city of over one and a half million residents, an abundance of cultural heritage sites, a taste of Catalàn culture, and a high level of accessibility for the world’s incoming tourists. If you go a layer deeper, the cracks related to overtourism start to rear their head. As a semi-local, or slocal (adapted from Mikhaylenko, 2021; further developed collaboratively by myself and several classmates, meaning: one who lives temporarily in a destination but for an extended stay, anywhere from 3 months to 1 year+, and therein develops a sense of belonging and home within the culture and country context), one begins to notice these threads woven into daily life. It’s the way locals you’ve met outside of the city inform you it’s been years since they visited the city centre. It’s the signs hanging across neighborhoods and graffiti covering walls containing phrases such as “Tourists go home,” or “Tourism kills the city.” It’s the flooding of visitors on La Rambla, one of the wide boulevard streets, and the Barcelona port receiving an insane amount of cruise passengers daily [6]. If you’ve ever read an article about protests in Barcelona related to tourism, they’re not alone. From Bali, Indonesia to Dubrovnik, Croatia, local residents are demanding change regarding tourist behavior. The residents of Barcelona have rallied together, and during the 2018 European Year of Cultural Heritage, a workshop focused on “Better Places to live, Better Places to visit” propelled the Barcelona Declaration into existence [7]. With principles focusing on smart and inclusive governance, engaging the local residents as ambassadors of their own cultural heritage, embracing holistic marketing and preservation, and balancing people, place, and business while connecting visitors and residents, the declaration creates a framework for tackling such issues related to the socio-cultural pillar of sustainability [7].

(Park Güell, one of Barcelona's finest)

(My EMTM crew at the Barcelona EXPO, helping focus on sustainable urban changes, 2021)

While Barcelona is a beautiful and exciting destination to visit, it is vital that we remember that wherever we are in the world, it is someone’s home. We wouldn’t want endless litter, rude and reckless behavior, and a general disrespect of our local culture and way of life to pervade our everyday lives. In experiencing this wonderful city, I learned again through lived experience, that the ways we move about in a destination are important and can be a source of positive intercultural exchange, if we take care, and show care for those who call it home. In some destinations, as detailed by CONDÉ NAST, there are potential ways as a visitor to help combat such struggles–whether that be finding accommodation that is licensed with the local city in a less crowded area, traveling during low season or to a similar beach or city destination nearby that receives less foot traffic, or being intentional about your choice of guide [8]. This final suggestion speaks volumes as I recall the third destination on my mind.

(Traveling with V in Ouarzazate, Morocco, 2022)

Nearly a year after first entering Barcelona, I found myself living in the south of Spain, in Sevilla. With such proximity to the continent of Africa, it felt like the perfect opportunity to travel even further south! My close friend, classmate, and travel companion extraordinaire V joined me on a wild adventure to Morocco. Taking the planning into my own hands, I spent approximately a month detailing out the best routes, most cost-effective (although not necessarily most sustainable) flight options, most intriguing city destinations and sights, and more! Our travels eventually turned into two trips. The first, which I peek into now, was meant to take us to the beloved western city of Marrakesh, the famed coastal Casablanca, and the country’s capital of Rabat. While scheming, I began to consider an addition. A wisp of an incredible dream. What if, could it be possible–could we visit the Sahara desert?

(The road to Aït Benhaddou, 2022)

I began scouring the internet, trying my best to glean the best way to achieve such a goal. After some time, I found one. I was thrilled! The price, and what it included, was incredible. Unbelievable! The road trip across Morocco to nearly the Algerian border, the incredibly hospitable, kind guides and locals we ran into, the experience of riding camels and witnessing sunset and sunrise on the dunes, the night lying out under the stars and camping in the middle of the Sahara desert, and so much more make it one of the most memorable experiences of my life. But within these fond memories, are also critical reflections. The most pressing relates to the economic sustainability pillar.

(Camel adventures in the Sahara, 2022)

The guide package we used, while entirely satisfactory in practice and by the reviews, soon invited V and I into further reflection. As aspiring philosophic tourism practitioners, we understood the costs involved in most tourism offerings. Not just the price we paid up front, but how it might impact the supply chain and the potential for economic leakages. This is when the money paid for tourism services or offerings does not remain within the local or even the country’s economy but, rather, goes directly to another country [9]. This often happens through multinational companies, or businesses running their operations from wealthier, more advantaged countries while relying on the local labor and paying a much reduced amount of the overall earnings to these locally based employees.

Now, in our case, we had a goal. We wanted to reach the Sahara desert. We had a limited amount of time in-country, a very limited budget (yay student life!), reasonable proximity once in-country (8 hour road trip, hello!), and through this guided trip package we could pay a relatively small amount for a high-value adventure. We took it! But as we took the trip, our understanding grew and further insights appeared. For one, I had originally found it a bit frustrating that we needed to continue to tip our various guides with local currency (often at random) instead of including it within the entire price of the package. As we went on, I began to understand that it was probably the best way to ensure that these local guides and artisans were actually receiving the money, instead of it being lost to the provider that was located far away in Germany. Further, I felt that almost all of the logistics, services, collaborations, and value added through stories, kindness, and storytelling were coming from those with us. The company promoting, and ultimately, ‘selling’ the trip to us, had very little to do with it. The primary role they held was promotion and payment processing. This wasn’t without importance. Without their platform, it was likely that this ‘tour’ could not as easily be bought by visitors. The level of comfort, the understanding of the somewhat flexible itinerary, the trust in purchasing such a package before being in-country all led to the conclusion that this company being based in Europe gave it better branding, reliability, and quality assurance. And yet, I couldn’t help but feel it didn’t add up. I still felt compelled to believe that the majority of those who made our experience so wonderful were hardly being compensated.

(The stunning Sahara, Merzouga, Morocco, 2022)

(Road trip style, ft. a gift from the local artisans, 2022)

The other question related to the economic pillar of sustainability was the price that this trip was for different participants. While traveling, we were with a hobnob group of about 12 travelers. Our separate parties didn’t know each other but we soon developed a shared camaraderie. In the case of other tourists we met, many had traveled much further than us to reach Morocco, often crossing continents and oceans and paying an immense amount of money. They, too, intended to stay in Morocco for only a couple of weeks. However, we, being only 1-3 hours away by flight from southern Spain, planning our own itinerary and activities, and keeping to our student budget, had expended far fewer resources. That is the role that proximity and tourism often plays. And I can’t really blame them for taking that less sustainable trip! We were just lucky that our trip to Morocco cost a fraction of theirs and was a much shorter journey. It paints the picture more clearly of how domestic or regional tourism can be more sustainable in the long-run. Then again, not everyone will move somewhere close to their ideal tourism destination, so this is all relative. But a good thought exercise to engage in!

(Enjoying a stopover in Tinghir, Morocco, 2022)

A thread that sticks out in my mind during our road trip is the way in which the locals who guided us were connected to the local communities along the way. On the road, we had to stop at a number of security checks. These were as much for safety as security since we were visiting remote spots. Not only that, but we were constantly stopping at these in-the-middle-of-nowhere restaurants along the route where you could only select from a limited set-menu meal at a set price (hi there, tagine). We also stopped at maybe a dozen spots along the road to Merzouga, whether an amazing village or WHS attraction (Ouarzazate, Aït Benhaddou, etc.). We stopped by vendors selling pots, ‘desert passports’ or scarves, and trinkets on the side of the road. We took in gorgeous vistas, visited artisan communes, and learned about gardening techniques. Most clear in my mind is the time that our driver pulled over, noting a vehicle in distress up ahead. A brief 15 minute hiatus had us outside the car taking in views and stretching our legs. When we piled back in, we were joined by 4 new passengers from the broken-down van. Another guide had taken the remaining passengers in their vehicle while passing by the same scene. And there we were, suddenly a full van! Off to the next restaurant! Near the Valley of the Roses, we all gathered, savoring one of the most gorgeous views of our trip from the terrace, along with our 10,000th tagine. If you ever find yourself in Morocco, you’ll understand. While the cuisine is quite tasty, the lack of variety available at some of the more accessible eateries (and especially on the road to the desert) mean that you will soon know this dish far, far too well. Although there is always some fresh mint tea with sugarcane to wash it down and I never tired of that!

(Good ol' tagine, veggie variety instead of chicken, Morocco, 2022)

(A more varied gastronomic offering in the city, Marrakesh, Morocco, 2022)

I remember the place, in the blur of our days-long trip, because there were signs everywhere. After eating, I made my way downstairs to the local stand, purchasing a small vial of rose perfume. That was where their van regrouped and we made our farewells. I remember this so vividly because it was very clear to me, in the way that our guide and driver showed concern, talked with the driver of the stuck vehicle, and collaborated with one another to get all passengers safely on their way, that this was there was a deep, shared sense of community amongst those who lived out in these rural and remote areas. There was a sense of shared responsibility and care and collaboration, regardless of whose trip you were paid to do, no matter the organizing company. Honestly, it probably wouldn’t have translated to Germany in the same way. If I book with Company X, their employees provide the tour guide trip, no alterations. The way the itinerary of this trip could change and shift, despite being branded just one way as a concrete path with set stops, made sense in the context of the journey and my experiences encountering those within the desert communities. And honestly, it was my favorite part of our trip to Morocco. While I met with great hospitality and kindness in Marrakesh, Casablanca, and Rabat, the energy of those we met and bonded with on our Sahara trip couldn’t be held a candle to.

(The desert still calling to me <3)

Now, with those touching thoughts, how did we contribute to our local communities on this trip, despite the barriers? While we did pay our organizing European company the overall fee, we researched and paid fair tips throughout our journey, taking care to put money in the pockets of locals. Additionally, I purchased a beautiful handwoven rug from the weaving cooperative that we visited. The money I spent on this was already a large percentage of the cost paid for our trip but relatively low compared to what it would be sold in other destinations, likely not even being entirely authentic in those cases. Additionally, it went directly to the cooperative instead of part of the proceeds being taken along the way if I had purchased it either in one of the bigger cities or outside the country. We purchased meals along the road trip, helping to support local businesses across these rural communities. In cities, we also did our best to support local food spots and our local accommodations’ tourism offerings, financially. We treated our guides with respect, curiosity, and appreciation, asking for their stories and open to their interpretations on travel and tourism. We did our best to behave respectfully and follow local practices, especially related to wearing more conservative dress, monitoring our volume in speaking, following our guide’s lead instead of striking out on our own paths, and savoring what we experienced with open minds and hearts. Following our trip, I researched more about the desert trips, also eager to identify more locally supportive trip packages. One that I researched, Journey Beyond Travel, is locally based and pays higher wages, as well as contributes to local projects. The overall cost for these trips are higher than what we participate in. In the future, especially as my own wage ideally increases, I find myself more drawn to spend more intentionally and sustainability. No matter what, there are many ways that we can find ourselves contributing to the local communities economically speaking when we travel. I recommend you to do research on this and implement some of it into your own travel adventures!

To sum up, TL;DR–when we can maximize our travel experiences while integrating sustainability practices related to the socio-cultural, environmental, and economic pillars, we can do our part in ensuring that we are travelers who care, and that the places others call home can be more like home to us.

~Amber Johnson

#ambrosiaelsewhere #sustainabletourism #tourism #travel #storytelling #fieldnotes

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References:

1. UNESCO and sustainability [Our Common Future, Report of the World Commission on Environment and Development, 1987] https://unesdoc.unesco.org/ark:/48223/pf0000139369

2. https://www.vadehavskysten.com/ribe-esbjerg-fano/ribe-esbjerg-fano/mandobussen-tractor-bus-mando-gdk610493

3. https://www.waddensea-worldheritage.org/

4. https://www.waddensea-worldheritage.org/richly-diverse

5. https://sustainability-leaders.com/interview-janne-liburd/

6. https://www.statista.com/statistics/457624/cruise-passengers-in-barcelona-spain/

7. https://necstour.eu/better-places-to-live-better-places-to-visit

8. https://www.cntraveler.com/galleries/2015-06-19/barcelona-bhutan-places-that-limit-tourist-numbers

9. https://smartdestination.travel/economic-leakage-in-tourism/

10. https://www.journeybeyondtravel.com/sustainable-travel-in-morocco