With one hiking backpack each, a handful of train tickets, and a final destination six weeks ahead of us, my partner and I took off for the ultimate summer holiday in mid-June.
That’s actually simplifying the situation a bit. In addition to one large backpack each, we also had our two cats and all of their gear. And, we weren’t just going on holiday: We moved from Carthage, Tunisia, to our new home in Bucharest, Romania, so we actually didn’t have anywhere to live for those six weeks this summer. It was, quite frankly, the perfect opportunity to take a six-week slow overland trip via ferry and trains from North Africa to Eastern Europe.
Here’s the truth about working in tourism: We can take all the classes, watch all the webinars, and read all the articles out there. Indeed, there is some stellar information available on tourism curated by a wonderfully diverse spectrum of people at our fingertips. But, sometimes the best lessons about travel happen when we actually get out and do it ourselves.
I’m making an assumption here, but I imagine most people working in tourism got into the work because they enjoy traveling. I know I did. So I used my own holiday as an opportunity to observe, experiment, and learn from the experience. (To be clear and in full transparency: I am an American citizen traveling on a U.S. passport. Also, I would consider this to be the first time I've actively engaged in a prolonged "slow travel" experience, and these observations come from this specific 38-day trip.)
Never one to let a good opportunity go to waste, I enjoyed my six weeks of slow travel … but I also picked up valuable insight along the way. Perhaps these observations will be helpful for my tourism colleagues too.
Observation #1: Short-term rentals (STRs) are not only causing housing and gentrification problems. They are also accelerating overconsumption and waste.
I’ve had growing concerns about Airbnb for quite some time now, but we chose to book through the platform for this trip for a variety of reasons. (Coincidentally, while traveling, I wrote an article about alternatives to Airbnb in which I also explain our strategies for choosing the least harmful options.)
Walking through European cities ranging from Verona, Italy, to Budapest, Hungary, we couldn’t help but notice the unsightly lockboxes attached to gates and stuck to walls outside of apartment buildings. STRs really are invading every corner of every city.
Even worse is what is inside: Because the vast majority of Airbnb rentals are not extra rooms in someone’s home but accommodations simply meant to be a rotating door for tourists, most are outfitted in what I call “IKEA chic.” Cheap bedding. Bland, barely functional kitchenware. Mass produced art. An ungodly number of plastic plants.
I think the goal is to stock these properties with just enough to check all the amenity boxes and make photos appear enticing enough. But there is nothing in these properties that says “sustainable” to me. Cheaply made products break and need to be replaced. Mass produced decor is a lost opportunity to support local makers. And the amount of unnecessary plastic (and single-use coffee pods) in these properties is absolutely devastating.
What Airbnb has done to housing availability and the community fabric is bad enough, but when they are outfitted in IKEA chic, as most seem to be, they’re also contributing to leakage, diverting work from local artisans, and contributing to the plastic and waste problems. Beyond the nominal fee collected by STR owners, no one is winning here except Airbnb. In fact, there is too much being lost.
Observation #2: Social businesses are not actively promoted to tourists, but they should be.
I believe one of the most powerful ways tourism can support community wellbeing and embrace regeneration is by integrating social businesses into traveler experiences. I believe this, so I actively seek these out by searching for them beyond the typical tourism websites and travel guides.
Among those we visited on our slow travel journey were Magdas Hotel in Vienna, where we ate a delicious lunch, and the Tales of Communism Museum in Braşov, Romania, which is run by a social enterprise benefitting vulnerable children.
Both of these happen to be tourist attractions in and of themselves, so they do appear on some travel to-do lists, but their social impact doesn’t play a large role in their story or appeal. People are increasingly aware of and curious about these kinds of opportunities. Those interested in booking active learning experiences or “giving back” to these kinds of organizations when they travel need to be able to find them easier.
Include them on your tourism board’s website. Integrate them in your tours. And, yes, the story is a selling point. Don’t bury the lede!
Observation #3: Tech is needed to make booking train travel easier and more intuitive.
If we want to encourage people to use trains rather than planes, it needs to be easy to book them. Further, it needs to be easy to string multiple legs of a journey together.
There are a handful of websites out there with helpful information for booking (Trainline, Seat 61, and Rome2Rio among them), but none of them are a decent one-stop shop for comparing and booking routes for a long-distance rail journey across multiple European countries. We ended up booking our tickets directly from each of the different rail providers we used, which also meant downloading the app for each rail line to manage the tickets and troubleshoot any challenges that popped up, like canceled or missed trains.
This seems like an area that is ripe for innovation. If we want the future of transport to be overland versus in the skies, we need to make rail travel not only less expensive but far easier to book.
Observation #4: More businesses are sharing their sustainability and climate stories.
I’m unconsciously tuned into sustainability-related aspects of hospitality when traveling. So, yes, I absolutely notice single-use plastics in the bathroom, “mood lighting” on in the middle of the day, and air conditioning cranked unnecessarily high.
This means I’m also happy to report I noticed more places are publicly sharing their sustainability and climate commitments than ever before. This includes information on menus about how and where ingredients are sourced, and initiatives taken at hotels to decrease food and water waste. (It’s also worth noting that there was no communication at all about sustainability at any of the Airbnb properties we booked.) Normalizing these actions and making them known to people is a huge step in making sustainability the standard.
One of the events I most appreciated bumping into this summer was Klima Biennale Wien, a two-month-long art festival focused on the climate in Vienna. It included events, workshops, tours, exhibitions, and lots of other ways for people to learn about and engage in the universal climate crisis challenge. I would love to see more destination-wide initiatives like this one that make sustainability and the climate as visible as art, music, food, and entertainment.
Observation #5: Slow travel is not accessible or affordable for a lot of people.
We can advocate all day long for slow travel, but the truth is it is a pipe dream for most people. Staying in a single place for a long period of time, spending time using trains to get around, and intentionally choosing not to do it all is an immense privilege. Slow travel is expensive, challenging to plan and manage, difficult without the “right” passport, and downright impossible for those without time off from work.
Those working in tourism can encourage this kind of travel experience, but it takes more than a few voices to change the way the average person defines travel. (And let’s be clear: Even the average person from the United States with two weeks of paid vacation days, for example, has entirely different circumstances than someone living on day laborer wages in Tunisia.)
Normalizing slow travel requires deep societal changes that ensure people have adequate vacation days (and are not punished for taking them) and increased wages that allow for splurging on holidays. And it’s important to dismantle bureaucratic barriers so that everyone can travel without hindrance, regardless of passport, race, gender, ability, or religion.
Observation #6: The most mindful travelers still struggle to be part of the solution even as they recognize they’re part of the problem.
As I shared my day-to-day slow travel experiences on Instagram in real time, many people reached out with questions and concerns about their own attempts at engaging in slow, ethical travel. For example, I was very open about sharing my struggle with Airbnb, and others said they also felt cornered into booking with the platform because other options didn’t exist to meet their needs.
For most people, “travel” happens over a (relatively short) period of time and has a defined purpose. It requires getting to a place, participating in activities in that place, and then getting back home as quickly as possible. This isn’t only the typical travel narrative, but it’s how tourism infrastructure is built and communication frames the overarching experience. Breaking this status quo is very challenging because it requires looking for information and solutions to a concept that is relatively new and nebulously defined.
If the tourism industry wants people to travel more slowly, mindfully, and sustainably, product development that reflects this and messaging that supports it must become mainstream. Increasingly, people recognize sanitized tourism is a problem, they are very well aware the climate crisis is a looming issue, and they want to travel more responsibly. Let’s meet them where they’re at with better options so when they venture out next, they do it in a way that does less harm.
