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Journalism of Courage
If you are like me, and any smart phone user in the world, you live in an alternate reality called Facebook. The Internet has become the new adda, a meeting place of like-minded folks. It is where news and views are shared. So what if the news is often which airport you have checked into or the view from your hotel suite. Behold netizens, say hello to travel porn.
Each day we are informed by people, we’ve only met once, where they are travelling to next. Or that they are en route to Dulles International. Or how bad the meals aboard Jet Airways is (“and this, in business class!”). Or how Air France has lost their bags for the third time.
Sometimes people ask for tips on where to eat in Barcelona, or where to shop in Jaipur. Often, they are only a word or two, like ‘Croatia’ or ‘Burning Man’ or even just good old ‘Delhi’.
All of these generate 50 likes in two minutes, and the traveller is happy with the attention he has garnered. But these posts hide something sinister. Each status update subliminally states: “I’m living it up and travelling the world, while you’re in front of your desktop looking me up”.
Only a few years ago, ‘travel porn’ was a delicious term. Much like ‘food porn’, which is described as a glamourised visual presentation of food or eating or cooking (Masterchef Oz) that arouses desire to eat as a substitute for sex.
Travel porn was especially enjoyed at the movies. Movies that are less plot, more scenery. A Good Year was enjoyed more for Provence than Russell Crowe. Ditto The Beach and Leo DiCaprio. The Motorcycle Diaries is the ultimate film on road trips. And Eat Pray Love was less about whiney self-discovery, more simply a ‘take a holiday girl’ kind of film. These are films that make you head straight to Makemytrip.com. Look what Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara did for Spain.
I do enjoy beautiful photography though. And I do get my fill from photo enthusiasts such as Rahul Akerkar, Wendell Rodricks, David Abraham and Sonam Dubal. They travel to exotic locations, have high adrenaline adventures and produce photos that elicit lust. People like them capture perfect cumulus clouds with impossible angles. Or very expensive zoom lenses that can spot a dappled ladybug on a blade of grass.
This is the travel porn I enjoy. The rest of it is just showing off, and there is nothing interesting or attractive about that. Bragging is just ugly, even if you deploy silly masquerades like lost bags or bad plane food.
So I have refrained from discussing my travels with anyone online. The five people I speak to daily know my whereabouts and they are the only ones I care about impressing. The rest of you may keep guessing, or are welcome to feel that all I do is click away at my keyboard. But I’m not sharing.
namratanow@gmail.com
