I have been accompanying my uncle and aunt, who have come here from India, on various tourist spots along the East Coast, including Niagara Falls and NYC. For the past few years, I have been visiting these places fairly regularly, on similar pretenses. As a result I have been able to see the changes that have occurred over time. I also get a new perspective on these places depending on who I go with.
This week, we took a tour bus to Washington D.C from Edison. My uncle and aunt got seats next to each other up front, and since the bus was only about three-fourths full, I took the liberty of occupying the single row of three seats in the back. In front of me sat an older man wearing khakis and a Las Vegas baseball cap, flipping through a Reader's Digest and occasionally whispering something to the woman he was with.
Soon after we got onto the highway, he turned around towards me timidly. "So, are you one of 'em Mexicans?" he asked, squinting at me as if further scrutiny of my appearance would give him some extra clues.
Note that neither the question nor the manner in which it was asked, surprised me too much.
Politely, I told him, no, I am Indian, hoping I wouldn't have to further clarify, from India, as I have had to in the past.
He apologized sincerely for his error and said that he was a visitor from New Zealand. He asked if I had ever been to India. I said that I had been since I was a child, for a month most summers, that it was almost like a second home to me. He replied, "We feel the same way about going to England, even though our ancestors came to New Zealand generations ago." I asked him if the States felt very different, and how.
"Well for one thing, it's very multicultural. Not that there's anything wrong with that of course. But it's just so much... in your face. Everything's bolder, brasher, over the top here," He pauses and sighs, shaking his head. "When we came to New York, we took one of those sightseeing buses with the tour guides. The things they try and make history out of. It's all rather lightweight." He rolls his eyes. Having just been on one of the same buses two days before, I had to laugh and commiserate with him.
But I've never felt saturated by NYC even having had to sit through the tourist routine many times. I think that it's not only because I expect the flashiness, but because in a way, the city sort of defies history. I once thought it inappropriate that they would build memorial towers in the spot where the Twin Towers once stood, and that they should leave it to be the hallowed Ground Zero instead. But in the context of the city this decision actually makes sense. New York doesn't dwell in history-- it creates it. Even 42nd street, which defines Manhattan's image for millions of tourists today, is a fairly modern transformation from an area once notoriously laden with brothels and criminal activity. Little Italy has shrunk dramatically as Chinatown has ballooned and threatens to overtake all of Canal Street. On my most recent visit, I went to the top of the Rockefeller Building for the first time . From up top you can see Manhattan bulging at the margins marked by the Hudson and the East River, choking Central Park in the middle. Sure, the city has plenty of history, but it takes pride in constantly overriding it. A lot of the appeal has always been about the lights and the extravagance and the burgeoning crowds.
But that wasn't my reply to this man. Instead, I gave my gut reaction to his statement. "Yeah, I actually feel the same way about Niagara Falls." He looked confused for a moment, but nodded when I added: "No, the Falls themselves are beautiful. It's the spectacle they've created out of the area that bothers me."
I think the first time I visited Niagara I was about 6 years old. My parents would know, they can never forget that day. We were walking along the edge of the Falls, I stopped to tie my shoe for a moment and when I looked back up, they had disappeared into a crowd. They found me within an hour, but the ripples of anxiety they had for a while afterwards overpowered any of my lasting memories of the Falls.
When I came back a few weeks ago, I was immediately put off. I don't know why. Maybe the mystery surrounding it that I saw as a child was now gone. Or maybe it was just easier to pick out everything unsavory about the place. I really do think it's changed significantly though.
I also kept thinking back to my week-long nature voyage across the West coast a few years back. And the thought of placing a marquee board screaming "FREE SOUVENIR AT VISITOR CENTER " where you could see it over the Grand Canyon, like they had done here, was repulsive, and actually frightened me a little bit.
We bought tickets to see the IMAX movie and entered the theater, which looked like my local United Skates of America. The movie, too, hasn't changed since the 80's. The depiction of the Native Americans of the area was really cringe worthy, as they had the actors grunt and point rather than give hem even a few lines of dialogue. It also made it seem like the tribes just vanished the minute the French soldiers came trekking along. In fact, until this time, I had somehow subconsciously assumed that this was actually the case. I don't know why. How could I think that French soldiers would be able to chase away anybody?
Of course, the native people did stay around. Until, in the 1950's, the U.S. claimed eminent domain over the area and sent the tribes off packing, one of which returned a few years back to collectively own the Falls' local casino as the Nation of the Seneca. A happy ending, indeed.
Apparently the Falls have been a tourist attraction from the moment they were discovered, and even some of Napoleon's family came to visit once. Though it is of course, still famous world wide, I couldn't imagine some foreign diplomat coming to America now and being shown the Falls, first thing. Maybe it is all of the constant commercial tourism for hundreds of years, all of that old- style decadence which makes the area appear so kitschy now.
Paradoxically, though, that flashy commercialization, which seems to me a sign of decay, might be what Niagara actually needs to survive at all, at the cost it's been running at.
I realized this soon after coming back from the Niagara trip. The uncle and aunt I mentioned earlier are visiting their daughter, my cousin, and went with her for a while when she moved to California. We had all gone to Niagara together, and they were going to leave for California a few days later.
My cousin was looking at various tour packages for the West Coast. My father suggested to her that they go to Disneyland. I thought that given the option, they should try to see the Grand Canyon instead. "Your parents didn't grow up with Disney characters-- they just won't have the background to be really interested," was my reasoning. My dad disagreed. He said that Disneyland was more congruous with the image that visitors generally have of America. That "natural beauty" just isn't what we're known for. As usual, he was right.
We asked my uncle what his thoughts were, and he immediately opted for Disneyland. "The minute any of my friends come back from the US, everyone always wants to know if they were able to see Disneyland," he told me. He hadn't heard of anyone who had gone to see the Grand Canyon.
Don't get me wrong. I happened to be in Disney World for my birthday last year, and it was awesome. I'm probably just naive, but somehow it had never occurred to me that the Disney empire could even be more well-known than the Grand Canyon. I do believe that, now, though. Wikipedia says that each year, the Canyon gets about 4 million visitors, the Disneys get 15 million each, and the Falls get 20 million.
On one hand, it might actually be better for the Canyon if relatively fewer foreign visitors come by-- I mean, there's a reason that there are no restaurants or hotels too close by, and that allows people to appreciate its beauty.
On the other hand, I realized my distaste for Niagara is the same distaste that New Zealander was trying to express with his quip about New York. I don't think either of us actually dislike those places by themselves-- they are what they are. It's just that if those are the kinds of places which are supposed to represent the US, then the faults we see in them are more symptomatic of the country at large. I think that in some ways, America is decaying in exactly the same ways that Niagara has. But that problem becomes so much clearer, much more glaring, when you're looking at the plastic cutlery strewn all over the lawn of a national park.
This week, we took a tour bus to Washington D.C from Edison. My uncle and aunt got seats next to each other up front, and since the bus was only about three-fourths full, I took the liberty of occupying the single row of three seats in the back. In front of me sat an older man wearing khakis and a Las Vegas baseball cap, flipping through a Reader's Digest and occasionally whispering something to the woman he was with.
Soon after we got onto the highway, he turned around towards me timidly. "So, are you one of 'em Mexicans?" he asked, squinting at me as if further scrutiny of my appearance would give him some extra clues.
Note that neither the question nor the manner in which it was asked, surprised me too much.
Politely, I told him, no, I am Indian, hoping I wouldn't have to further clarify, from India, as I have had to in the past.
He apologized sincerely for his error and said that he was a visitor from New Zealand. He asked if I had ever been to India. I said that I had been since I was a child, for a month most summers, that it was almost like a second home to me. He replied, "We feel the same way about going to England, even though our ancestors came to New Zealand generations ago." I asked him if the States felt very different, and how.
"Well for one thing, it's very multicultural. Not that there's anything wrong with that of course. But it's just so much... in your face. Everything's bolder, brasher, over the top here," He pauses and sighs, shaking his head. "When we came to New York, we took one of those sightseeing buses with the tour guides. The things they try and make history out of. It's all rather lightweight." He rolls his eyes. Having just been on one of the same buses two days before, I had to laugh and commiserate with him.
But I've never felt saturated by NYC even having had to sit through the tourist routine many times. I think that it's not only because I expect the flashiness, but because in a way, the city sort of defies history. I once thought it inappropriate that they would build memorial towers in the spot where the Twin Towers once stood, and that they should leave it to be the hallowed Ground Zero instead. But in the context of the city this decision actually makes sense. New York doesn't dwell in history-- it creates it. Even 42nd street, which defines Manhattan's image for millions of tourists today, is a fairly modern transformation from an area once notoriously laden with brothels and criminal activity. Little Italy has shrunk dramatically as Chinatown has ballooned and threatens to overtake all of Canal Street. On my most recent visit, I went to the top of the Rockefeller Building for the first time . From up top you can see Manhattan bulging at the margins marked by the Hudson and the East River, choking Central Park in the middle. Sure, the city has plenty of history, but it takes pride in constantly overriding it. A lot of the appeal has always been about the lights and the extravagance and the burgeoning crowds.
But that wasn't my reply to this man. Instead, I gave my gut reaction to his statement. "Yeah, I actually feel the same way about Niagara Falls." He looked confused for a moment, but nodded when I added: "No, the Falls themselves are beautiful. It's the spectacle they've created out of the area that bothers me."
I think the first time I visited Niagara I was about 6 years old. My parents would know, they can never forget that day. We were walking along the edge of the Falls, I stopped to tie my shoe for a moment and when I looked back up, they had disappeared into a crowd. They found me within an hour, but the ripples of anxiety they had for a while afterwards overpowered any of my lasting memories of the Falls.
When I came back a few weeks ago, I was immediately put off. I don't know why. Maybe the mystery surrounding it that I saw as a child was now gone. Or maybe it was just easier to pick out everything unsavory about the place. I really do think it's changed significantly though.
I also kept thinking back to my week-long nature voyage across the West coast a few years back. And the thought of placing a marquee board screaming "FREE SOUVENIR AT VISITOR CENTER " where you could see it over the Grand Canyon, like they had done here, was repulsive, and actually frightened me a little bit.
We bought tickets to see the IMAX movie and entered the theater, which looked like my local United Skates of America. The movie, too, hasn't changed since the 80's. The depiction of the Native Americans of the area was really cringe worthy, as they had the actors grunt and point rather than give hem even a few lines of dialogue. It also made it seem like the tribes just vanished the minute the French soldiers came trekking along. In fact, until this time, I had somehow subconsciously assumed that this was actually the case. I don't know why. How could I think that French soldiers would be able to chase away anybody?
Of course, the native people did stay around. Until, in the 1950's, the U.S. claimed eminent domain over the area and sent the tribes off packing, one of which returned a few years back to collectively own the Falls' local casino as the Nation of the Seneca. A happy ending, indeed.
Apparently the Falls have been a tourist attraction from the moment they were discovered, and even some of Napoleon's family came to visit once. Though it is of course, still famous world wide, I couldn't imagine some foreign diplomat coming to America now and being shown the Falls, first thing. Maybe it is all of the constant commercial tourism for hundreds of years, all of that old- style decadence which makes the area appear so kitschy now.
Paradoxically, though, that flashy commercialization, which seems to me a sign of decay, might be what Niagara actually needs to survive at all, at the cost it's been running at.
I realized this soon after coming back from the Niagara trip. The uncle and aunt I mentioned earlier are visiting their daughter, my cousin, and went with her for a while when she moved to California. We had all gone to Niagara together, and they were going to leave for California a few days later.
My cousin was looking at various tour packages for the West Coast. My father suggested to her that they go to Disneyland. I thought that given the option, they should try to see the Grand Canyon instead. "Your parents didn't grow up with Disney characters-- they just won't have the background to be really interested," was my reasoning. My dad disagreed. He said that Disneyland was more congruous with the image that visitors generally have of America. That "natural beauty" just isn't what we're known for. As usual, he was right.
We asked my uncle what his thoughts were, and he immediately opted for Disneyland. "The minute any of my friends come back from the US, everyone always wants to know if they were able to see Disneyland," he told me. He hadn't heard of anyone who had gone to see the Grand Canyon.
Don't get me wrong. I happened to be in Disney World for my birthday last year, and it was awesome. I'm probably just naive, but somehow it had never occurred to me that the Disney empire could even be more well-known than the Grand Canyon. I do believe that, now, though. Wikipedia says that each year, the Canyon gets about 4 million visitors, the Disneys get 15 million each, and the Falls get 20 million.
On one hand, it might actually be better for the Canyon if relatively fewer foreign visitors come by-- I mean, there's a reason that there are no restaurants or hotels too close by, and that allows people to appreciate its beauty.
On the other hand, I realized my distaste for Niagara is the same distaste that New Zealander was trying to express with his quip about New York. I don't think either of us actually dislike those places by themselves-- they are what they are. It's just that if those are the kinds of places which are supposed to represent the US, then the faults we see in them are more symptomatic of the country at large. I think that in some ways, America is decaying in exactly the same ways that Niagara has. But that problem becomes so much clearer, much more glaring, when you're looking at the plastic cutlery strewn all over the lawn of a national park.
