Adventure tourism today suffers from a law of diminishing returns; Westerners travel to far-flung locales seeking a degree of “naturalness” and “authenticity” absent from their own homes, but those same elusive qualities fade away with every outside visitor. As a trickle of visitors eventually becomes a flood, the influx of tourist money can transform a place into a caricature of its previous self. This problem and its far-reaching impacts are examined in Gringo Trails, a thought-provoking new documentary from anthropologist Pegi Vail.
The irony of course, is that most travelers, at least those adventurous enough to veer off the beaten path, have an appreciation for and desire to learn about the cultures they visit. The problem arises with the collective impact of thousands of such well-intentioned visitors, with a few disrespectful followers. Gringo Trails shows this dissonance with interviews with some professional travelers, such as Costas Christ of National Geographic Traveler magazine and authors such as Rolf Potts and Pico Iyer. Christ tells a story emblematic of the whole film; as a young traveler in the 70s, he “discovered” a Thai beach that no tourist had yet found, beautiful and remote. Ten years later, there were hundreds of Western backpackers, but the beach retained much of its natural beauty. But ten years after that, the beach had become a prime spot for wild parties at the full moon (and half-moon, and quarter-moon…). The video footage speaks louder than the story ever could, showing the formerly pristine beach covered in trash and drunken college students. Sure, the locals made some money, but at what cost to their home?
Many tourists will defend any action they take abroad by saying, “they should be happy I’m spending my money here,” which, in impoverished nations, is no small concern, but hardly excuses all behavior. The film does a good job exploring locations where local inhabitants have tried to find a middle ground – to allow tourists and the money they bring but within a framework that protects their culture and environment. These efforts can be national, as in Bhutan, where a doctrine of “high value, low impact” tourism has been adopted to protect their national heritage, or local, as in a Bolivian village where locals decided that tourism needed to be conscientiously controlled for sustainability. As one local tells the filmmakers, when tourists are coming to see your natural diversity, protecting that diversity is not only the right thing to do, but it’s also good business.
Some parts of the film are more effective than others. In addition to the more traditional interspersed talking head interviews, there are interludes where people tell longer stories that aren’t always very important to the points being made. But Vail has amassed an impressive array of footage from all corners of the globe, much of it showing strikingly beautiful natural scenes that drive home the importance of protecting such places.
Overall, the film is a powerful document of an important issue. The film convincingly argues that while tourism can be a positive force, it will turn ruinous for its hosts if left uncontrolled. Positive tourism requires a conscientious effort by both the hosts, who know what in their home nations is most valuable and needs preservation, and by the tourists themselves, who must view themselves as cultural ambassadors and be prepared to treat their host nations with deference and respect.
