100 ways social media will make your travel experience, like, SO much more authentic and enlightening and off the beaten path and, you know, all that awesome stuff. Also, Justin Bieber (is not mentioned anywhere in this post).

Trying out a new SEO tactic here. You know, like the cool kids. You'll see why. Also, this post really isn't as grouchy as that headline might lead you to believe. 

Stop me if you've heard this one before. From today's Washington Post:

Crowdsourcing a Panama trip


Less than 24 hours after I announced on Facebook that I was heading to Panama, the tips started rolling in.


... Never mind that I hadn't seen these people in years. They were my Facebook friends, and I was willing to take their advice. I am, after all, a Facebook junkie.


Which is why I was thrilled to discover several new Web sites that merge my two favorite things: social media and travel. TripAdvisor recently integrated its site with Facebook so that you can see where your "friends" have visited and read any reviews they've posted. Other Web sites - Gogobot, IgoUgo,Travellerspoint and Tripping, among others - are creating communities of travelers Facebook-style.


So I wondered: Could I toss aside my guidebooks and plan an entire trip based on tips from virtual friends? Could I, in social media lingo, crowdsource a vacation?

Now, if you just read the first page (of three) and the last couple of paragraphs of the article, you could easily get the distinct impression that the conclusion is this: guidebooks are dead--social media is the only way to go! All hail social media! Now, I've already ranted about offered oh-so-insightful comments on some of this before, but it's worth revisiting it, especially because I think this Post article offers a more complete picture, even if you have to sort of read between the lines to see it.

I'm guessing various bloggers and Facebookers are going to latch onto those themes without a second thought, never mind that the writer, Nancy Trejos, encounters some serious setbacks, namely: (a) she gets too many tips and ends up trying to do too many things, and (b) a bunch of the tips are total duds.

In short, the experience is hit-or-miss--like most travel methods. But here's a kind of maybe REALLY IMPORTANT observation that passes by without any real comment: the things that save the trip are:

• Serendipity.
• A local expert. 

After a series of frustrations, Ms. Trejos comes to prefer the advice of that local expert, a friend-of-a-friend who works for the UN.

In other words, the true lesson to draw from the article is that you're ultimately best-served by relying on the exact same thing that travelers have been relying on for, well ... forever. The person on the ground. The local expert. Also, it helps if that person works for the UN or is otherwise someone with an outsider's perspective but an insider's knowledge.

And, yes, social media can help you work your network to find that expert. Granted. But, let's face it, there are many other ways, aside from Facebook and the like, to make those contacts. Online crowdsourcing is just one more means to that end. And sometimes it just gets in the way.

Of course, that conclusion won't get you a lot of Diggs and "likes" and retweets. It's not great SEO. A few months back, the Post's inimitable Gene Weingarten had a column about the "new media"-oriented newsroom.

Every few days at The Washington Post, staffers get a notice like this: "Please welcome Dylan Feldman-Suarez, who will be joining the fact-integration team as a multiplatform idea triage specialist, reporting to the deputy director of word-flow management and video branding strategy. Dylan comes to us from the social media utilization division of Sikorsky Helicopters."

I can't help but wonder if that social media emphasis becomes self-perpetuating: social media loves social media, so social media types get all excited when someone talks about social media. (Still with me?)

And I strongly suspect that's the ultimate reason that this travel article doesn't play up what seem to be its most important points: not much has changed, actually. At the top of page one of that article, there's a slide show sidebar (say that five times fast). The caption reads:

Panama: Off the beaten path
Nancy Trejos discovered Panama's hidden gems thanks to recommendations from her online social network.

Wait. No, she didn't. At least, not really, since her online friends led her astray just as often, and her best guide was--say it with me now--THE LOCAL EXPERT.

I guess honesty isn't very SEO-friendly.

(You know what is SEO-friendly, though? Cliches. Can we please please have a moratorium on "off the beaten path," at least in headlines?)

Is social media the new guidebook?

So this writer for The Guardian is preaching what seems to be a common refrain among the social media lovers: smart phones killed the guidebook dead. Twitter is the only path to travel salvation.

A few choice quotes and rebuttals:

1. A quote about the joys of constant contact.

Four weeks ago I visited Manchester on a short break. I took a change of pants and socks, a spare T-shirt and my mobile phone. When I arrived in the city, I told Twitter that I was hungry, and within minutes I was gorging on corned-beef hash thanks to a recommendation from a fellow Tweeter. I held my phone up to Piccadilly Gardens, turned on an app, and itsWikipedia entry flashed across my screen, overlaid on to the grass in front of me through the camera in my phone. I opened another app, and dozens of local suggestions were hovering around me. There was a bar 288m from where I was standing where I'd get a free drink if I mentioned a secret word to a barman called Angus.

Okay, look, whatever works for you, go for it. I won't pretend that there's One True Way To Travel.

I'll grant you that social media can offer more and better options (in terms of restaurant recommendations and the like) than guidebooks. I mean, there's the potential problem of information overload--you'll probably get too many suggestions and some conflicting opinions--but, okay, if you can sort through it, there's undoubtedly some good stuff there. Guidebooks, in theory, cut to the chase and give you some curated picks (the best of this, the cheapest of that), but if you stick with a guidebook, your options will be limited, and I'm not sure that's necessarily preferable to info-overload. When I did my guided-by-the-masses experiment in Rome, I got some good recommendations and I got some clunkers. No matter what your source of information, your own experience will be hit or miss.

What I find more problematic with the better-living-through-Twitter argument is that it demands not just constant connection with the rest of the world but constant feedback. People joke that Twitter is just a bunch of people posting what they had for breakfast, but I'm more annoyed by all the people who ask, "Where should I have breakfast?"

How about that place right there in front of you, eh? How about asking someone on the street? How about not spending an hour a day seeking advice and validation from your friends back home? How about realizing that you can wander into a dumpy restaurant and have a horrible meal . . . and still get something out of it, a story, a friend, whatever?

Furthermore, when you're checking in with your friends, how much other time are you spending online? Are you also checking Google Maps? Your e-mail? Your RSS feed? Weather? Enough. I've said it before, but I truly think that willful ignorance (up to a point) leads to the most enjoyable travel experiences. Aren't surprise and discovery part of the joy of travel? Shouldn't travel involve getting beyond your existing networks and world views? Shouldn't it be about finding your own way, rather than continually asking your friends for help? All the world need not be a stage, and all your time need not be spent in pursuit of the best, the hippest, the friend-approved. Let loose, get lost, get in to trouble, make NEW friends.

I honestly think that the single most important travel app on a smart phone is the off button. Make it up as you go along.

2. A quote about how awesome it is to have so many friends and to be so popular.

And then, about 18 months ago, I started travelling with Twitter. I headed off on assignments without planning a thing. I began in Paris, where I arrived at the Gare du Nord and began slinging questions into the ether. For 48 hours the people of Twitter guided me around the city, from backstreet art galleries in obscure eastern suburbs to glorious belle époque eating halls in Montmartre. Every tip was tailored to my exact time and location.

In other words, you've got people. (As of this writing, the Guardian writer, Benji Lanyado, has 4,863 followers on Twitter.) And, as someone with a prominent platform, you presumably get a lot of re-Tweets and forwarded information. You're able to spread the word quickly, and get a wide range of responses precisely because of who you are and what you do; people want in on your experiment. That's all fine and good; I have no problems with that. But I have a big problem with suggesting that it'll be like this for everyone, that it's Just So Easy to do this, that everyone can do it: just ask the question and you'll get tips "tailored to [your] exact time and location." It doesn't work like that. Most people are still better off with a guidebook (or using Trip Advisor or online resources).

The steps to a pleasant trip are NOT simply:

1. Buy an iPhone.
2. Set up Twitter account.
3. Broadcast that you're going somewhere and need tips.
4. Get tailored tips; meet locals; eat well; find enlightenment; live happily ever after. 

3. A quote showing some ignorance about the purpose of guidebooks

When I got home, I was a guidebook refusenik. They offered me nothing beyond the decently concise history section.

Uh-huh. And how about the section on the culture in general? On tipping? Or safety? Packing for the climate? Etiquette and taboos? Appropriate attire? Politics? Transportation? Visas? The curatorial role of the guidebook writer goes beyond stay-here-eat-there, and there are plenty of times when you can't rely on your Twitter followers to bail you out, even if you have access to them ("Tweeps: Got 10 cops shakin me down. :(  Need tips plz ASAP. How much 2 bribe?") These are areas where I specifically don't advise willful ignorance and where a guidebook--or internet research or a chat with a local--can be invaluable.

The best travel guides serendipity and common sense. Twitter and Facebook and their online peers are fine as supplements to these, but not as substitutes.

Oh, and when you're in a forest or remote area or even the Metro in Paris, good luck with getting a signal. Don't panic if you don't. Enjoy it instead.

What do you think? Are guidebooks doomed? Is Twitter better? 

If you're interested in more takes on the future of travel guides in the internet era, World Hum has a nice round-up of articles here. 

Canvassers v. Tourists (Or, Apologies For the Rant)

This was supposed to be a short post about how one of the benefits of tourism is increased numbers of street performers. This afternoon, I saw the most amazing living statue--a living fountain, actually. Worthy of his own post. Ditto the contortionist, the guitarist, and the jazz trio (they did not all perform together, although they totally should). The post was going to be hilarious and insightful and would basically explain the entire modern tourist experience by way of a series of short vignettes and observations, all tied together in the tidiest but most unexpected of ways, and presented in prose that was at once astonishingly lyrical and deliciously clever. Your mind would have been blown. But then some clowns got in the way. . . .

I recently heard someone describe canvassers as "the pop-up ads of real life." This was especially true in Copenhagen today.

I spent the morning tracking down the various restaurants that Frommer recommends here. No success. Not one was still open. A Blockbuster was in one space; another is now the town's requisite Hard Rock Cafe.

Instead, I found--or rather, was found by--a swarm of people from Greenpeace, Unicef, and Some Organization That Would Like You To Know That AIDS Is Very Bad. Now, I support these organizations' work, in general. I just don't particularly care to be on one more e-mail list or to give my credit card number to a complete stranger. Mostly, I just don't want to be bothered. I'm not a talker, particularly when I know the conversation will be one-sided, overtly political, and assertively boring.

This is particularly true when I'm away from home: I'm out of my element, I'm already a bit disoriented, just leave me alone. Don't remind me of the real world and its ills. Leave me in my bubble. Just point me to the bakery and the nearest tourist landmark and get out of my way. Please.

But sometimes I overcome my natural aversion to such interactions because the message the people are promoting is just . . . well, just so fucking batty and offensive that I can't walk by without comment.

Case in point: This afternoon, I was strolling down the Købmagergade (I think that's where I was, anyway) when a sandwich board stopped me in my tracks. It was a doctored photo of Barack Obama, with a Hitler mustache; beneath the image was the caption "I've Changed." I spotted a young woman standing near a table covered with Lyndon LaRouche literature.

"Hey, what's ..." I began.

She smirked. "He's grown a little mustache, you see. He's a fascist."

I'll spare you the full details. It was a long conversation. Too long. It can be summarized by the following exchange:

Me: ". . . So what you're saying is, there's a huge conspiracy that we're all just too blind to see, and it's run by a couple of guys sitting in a dark room, rubbing their hands together, cackling, evilly plotting everything that goes on in the world and basically trying to destroy us."

Batty LaRouche Lady, with complete sincerity: "Yes, that's exactly it."

Our conversation was broken by an American speaking on a cell phone, looking pissed off. He was saying (and this is a direct quote, as best as I remember it): "There are some seriously fucked-up people saying some seriously fucked-up things down here, spewing some genuinely offensive, outlandish shit."

As soon as he hung up, Batty LaRouche Lady started yammering at him instead of me. So Phone Guy and I basically tag-teamed it, swapping Very Reasonable Points to counter the frankly nonsensical and vitriolic claims. Soon a Batty LaRouche Dude from Boston joined the fray. (What a lovely way to pass a beautiful late-summer day on an otherwise charming and bustling street in Copenhagen!)

Several other passersby joined our cause, including one Danish guy who looked old enough to actually remember Hitler--who, you may recall, invaded Denmark, among a few other nasty things. This guy really, really, really did not appreciate the Obama/Hitler comparison. "You're planting the seed," he said, pointing to the photo. His tone was calm, but his face was contorted with incredulity and despair. "You're spreading hate."

All in all, a pretty jarring experience. I'm not big on confrontation, but I have gone to a few protests in the States and had some interesting conversations with counter-protesters. I'm always up for debate with people of differing views; in fact, I enjoy it. This was different. I've never encountered that level of hatred and virulent, over-the-top political extremism first-hand--it's something I've only seen in articles or on TV, where it always seems a world away, something happening in Some Other Place. I certainly didn't expect that Other Place to be seemingly-idyllic Copenhagen. Everything here felt so calm and happy--as I said yesterday, even the "slums" were awfully mundane, if not precisely charming.

The phone guy's name was Harold; he's an American who married a woman from Denmark and has lived here since 1997. I gave him the blog address and by the time I got back to the hotel, he'd already e-mailed me. He called the encounter "the Three Stooges/Dumb & Dumber reunion," which is about right--the level of discourse was roughly even with those esteemed individuals, although we never did resort to poking each other in the eyes or bopping each other on the head. Maybe the silver lining of the encounter is a new e-pen pal (Hey, Harold: write to me any time, and if you're ever in Minneapolis, I'll buy you a beer and we can rehash today's encounter and our incredible display of political acumen, intellectual brilliance, and superhuman ability to remain calm when talking to scary, not-calm nutjobs).

So that's one of today's bad ideas: talking to political extremists who are itching for a fight. I really should have just walked past. Oy.

(Also, I get that most issues are global issues these days, and that U.S. policy affects the world . . . but what the hell were LaRouche people doing distributing their propaganda in Copenhagen? When I walked by the same spot a few hours later, they were gone. I almost hugged the Greenpeace guy who had taken their place.)

I will say this: it was kind of refreshing to see the reactions of most Danes to this ugly scene, to be around Europeans defending the American president and supporting Americans in general. That was not my experience last year--not at all. I wonder how Bush-as-Hitler would have gone over. It's been interesting to see people's varied reactions, a year ago and now, when they find out I'm American.

. . . And then I went to Tivoli Gardens, which was much more enjoyable, if a bit cheesy. I wandered the grounds and marveled at the astonishingly overpriced food (35 DKK for a Slushee--that's seven bucks!) and the even more astonishing array of spinning, Slushee-disgorging rides. I also discovered Danish honky tonk music. Ten seconds later, I discovered that I really, really dislike Danish honky tonk, that it is almost as annoying as canvassers. But I'll take hours of it over another ten seconds with the Lyndon LaRouche people.

UPDATE: Interestingly, Arthur has also gotten a bit politically active lately, calling for a boycott of travel to Arizona after some protesters were spotted carrying guns outside a Phoenix venue where the president was speaking last week.