Sacred Places and Tourism

Sacred Places and Tourism ©

By Michael Casey

Sacred Places and Tourism, not what you expect from me, but let’s see where the road leads, all roads used to lead to Rome perhaps. I was watching the BBC news on the computer and I saw the end of a piece about Ayers rock, which might be a magical animal asleep in the middle of Australia waiting to be awakened to save Australia in time of peril.  Who knows? The thing about Ayers rock is that it belongs to the native people, Aborigines they used to be called. But the white settlers dispossessed them, so it became a theme park for drunken Aussies to climb. I am generalising  but it’s not too far from the truth. The Spanish did the same thing to the Incas, and as for the Colonialists they did the same, we did have the Scramble for Africa after all, was it around 1870, I did something in History about it over 40 years ago. Why are there so many straight lines on the map of Africa?

Back to Ayers rock, you can Google all the information for yourselves, it is beautiful in a way, I’d rather be up in Scotland with Donald playing golf, I don’t like too much heat. As I’ve mentioned the Donald we are getting all this guff about The President and The Presidency. If the holder is behaving badly then he denigrates the office. Same as the Catholic Church in Ireland and elsewhere hiding behind their Office when terrible terrible things are being done. Now in Ireland only 40% attend, when it used to be 90% this is as a direct result of the Hierarchy, covering up, to cover their own arse. In USA only 50% bother to vote, so they get the government they deserve. But I’ll leave that subject in the bunker, along with Hitler.

Now back to the plot, why are people obsessed with selfies, and why does it have to be if it’s Tuesday it’s  Turin, and Friday it’s Florence. The point of a holiday is to see something different, be it the toilets, or turtles swimming on the beach. If it’s a herd following a guide all eating McDonald’s because they don’t like foreign muck, what’s the point of going? Virtual reality holidays would be better. You would not have to bother to interact with the locals. In 2000 I was in Shanghai and we stopped for food, Western food for me, and there as a table of maybe 10 Americans, trying to analyse  who me and my wife were. They really were the worst of stereotypical Americans, like amateur FBI, loudly talking, who would never get the culture, this is 18 years ago now.  Now everybody wants to know China, need I say any more.

You have to be aware of local sensitivities, you can’t just have a pee against any wall, it could be the Wailing Wall, or a Holy Place of any other nature. Same as camping anywhere, you could be camping on a sacred graveyard or burial place. Sadly if people are not white then it seems to some they have no value.  A Banksy on a wall has more value than sacred items from a different culture. What makes a Banksy valuable? What people are prepared to pay for it. It’s not a Renoir nor a Picasso, it is transitory like a Rolf Harris picture. 

Tourism can and does destroy places. I’ve been lucky when I’ve been in Ireland or France and China as I’ve stayed with family or friends so you enjoy the company and the food without swamping local culture or place. In the end everywhere could just look the same, a car park and a McDonalds, you can only tell the difference by the signage in a foreign language, the signs themselves all made in China.

People have a tick list of things, which to me proves they are shallow, as shallow as Everest is high. It’s like Euston station at rush hour on Mount Everest sometimes, K2 I believe is the actual harder mountain to climb. Or just watch Cliffhanger or that other great film, or even the Eiger Sanction, and don’t leave your rubbish over mountains. In today’s documentary about Ayers Rock one lady spoke the truth, it was her ego that made her climb Ayers Rock, especially as climbers will be banned next year. Things are a trophy, Mount Everest, Ayers Rock, seducing a fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham. What? Just seeing if you are reading this or still asleep. 

The point is that trophy tourism is a waste of your time. Mrs Murphy in a story I have in my head, maybe I’ll finish it, she visits all the churches in Birmingham and lights  candles and prayers. Then from that I hang a story about Navy Seals finally saving a North Korean girl who they did not save in North Korea, so half her face is cut off. But she escapes and comes to Birmingham England and meets a black guy who loves her. Now she meets Mrs Murphy and it may have been her who introduces her to her black boyfriend. Anyway in Birmingham the North Korean girl is tracked down and is about to be killed even though she is pregnant, but the Navy Seals turn up and save the day and regain their honour. All because Mrs Murphy could not get into the 100^th church so she called in a favour from her good Jewish friend, who is the mother of a zillionaire industrialist, which you may remember from my Malta story. But I’ve sidetracked myself, that’s the trouble with stories, it’s like sitting on a jack-in-the-box, or on top of a nuclear missile it will go up into the air and detonate into laughter, well my ones anyway. Rocket man, put your toys away today.

I suppose I’ve covered most of the bases, just enjoy your holidays but don’t destroy places with your litter and ignorance. Treat it like your grandfather’s house, with love and care, and don’t wake him up he is 94, so don’t go banging any doors. You don’t tick a list to see how often you have kissed your friend goodbye, it’s love an laughter that you should be after. Then each time will be fun, and if you do seduce that fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham you don’t take a selfie or post it on Facebook, have some Dignity, not Ignominy.