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Posts Tagged ‘snobbery’


Few words in the English language seem to carry as many negative connotations today as “tourist”.

It might not quite match “chav” or “benefit cheat” as a term of abuse, though, in some people’s minds, there is a natural link, but it is increasingly used as an insult, notably by the inhabitants of towns and cities which attract large numbers of visitors.

But why should that be, especially as most of us are tourists at some time or another?

It might be helpful to ponder some authoritative dictionary definitions:

A person who is travelling or visiting a place for pleasure (Oxford Dictionary)

A person who travels for pleasure, usually sightseeing and staying in hotels (Collins English Dictionary)

A person who travels to a place for pleasure; one that makes a tour for pleasure or culture (Free Merriam-Webster Dictionary)

One who travels for pleasure (The Free Dictionary)

A person who is travelling, especially for pleasure (Dictionary.com)

There  is a strong measure of consensus, therefore, on what constitutes a “tourist”. Travel and pleasure are the key elements.

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What’s wrong with that? Seems pretty tame doesn’t it? So why do we use it in such a derogatory fashion nowadays?

I’ll confess that, as I am forced off the pavement on Oxford Street in London for the tenth time in the space of a hundred yards, or witness the loutish behaviour of visitors to one of the many festivals celebrated in my hometown, I am prone, not only to mutter but launch into a full-scale rant, about “bloody tourists”. I have even found myself sneering at flabby, inappropriately attired families from Florida, Kansas or indeed the UK just like any native or lifelong resident of San Francisco, the city recently anointed the snobbiest in the United States.

Not particularly pleasant, is it?

They may affront our sense of fashion, walk too slow in front of us, fail to speak our language, clog up our streets and generally disrespect our culture, but what right do we have to object to this just because we have the good fortune to live in a place that other people find worthy of visiting too? After all, without the money that they bring in to the local economy, there would not be the funding to maintain, let alone enhance, the attractions and services that we all enjoy.

In 2012 San Francisco received over sixteen and a half million visitors who spent almost nine billion dollars. Only five other American cities surpassed these amounts. Yet San Francisco is only the fourteenth largest city in population terms. Tourism is huge.

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Nor should we forget that most of us are tourists too at one time or another, and probably without realising it, display some of those objectionable habits that we despise in others.

The word “tourist” was once a bland, descriptive word. There was no judgement implied in its usage. But that is no longer the case.

It is a sad symptom of a less tolerant age, one where we seek to deny others the right to share in our good fortune.

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“You guys really love this city don’t you? You know it better than many people who have lived here all their lives”.

Thus spoke the balding young Oakland man with neat goatee beard, with whom my wife and I had struck up a conversation over our eggplant wraps and blueberry smoothies on the outdoor patio of the Progressive Grounds coffee house in the civilised neighbourhood of Bernal Heights one warm June afternoon.

 “You’re certainly no tourists – you’re San Franciscans”.

Whilst such a statement would have incurred the wrath of the natives who fiercely proclaim their privileged status on internet forums devoted to the subject, it was, nonetheless, pleasing to hear, especially coming from a lifelong Bay Area resident.

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As regular readers of my blog will attest, I invariably turn to Herb Caen, the legendary San Francisco Chronicle columnist, for his trusted opinion on such matters. In one of his many ruminations on what made a San Franciscan he said:

 I don’t think that place of origin or number of years on the scene

have anything to do with it really. There are newcomers who

become San Franciscans overnight – delighted with and interested

in the city’s traditions and history. They can see the Ferry Building

for what it represents (not for what it is), they are fascinated

with the sagas of Sharons, Ralstons, Floods and Crockers, they

savor the uniqueness of cable car and foghorn. By the same token, I

know natives who will never be San Franciscans if they outlive

Methusalah. To them a cable car is a traffic obstruction, the fog is

something that keeps them from getting a tan, and Los Angeles is

where they really know how to Get Things Done.

So, after ten visits of increasing length, we have gravitated from being “sophisticated tourists” who are “charmed and fascinated” by the city to anointment as “San Franciscans”. If I harboured any doubt, perhaps the existence of this article is further evidence. And statements like the one from the Cortland Avenue coffee shop, and that of the usher at the ballpark who thanked me for both loving her city as much as she did, and articulating that love so passionately in my writing, reinforce that judgement still further.

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Moreover, they act as a useful counterpoint to the recent assertion by Travel & Leisure magazine that San Francisco is the snobbiest city in the States. Anybody – whether natives, “transplants” or wide-eyed, first time tourists – with a willingness to learn, understand, appreciate and celebrate everything it has to offer, should equally be capable of qualifying for such an accolade.

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