Over the years, I've reflected on what it means to eat/live/be like a local when traveling. I first heard the phrase from a friend who loved Anthony Bourdain and aspired to travel like him. It didn't mean anything to me, as a high school kid on O'ahu with no sense of the world's greatness and little interest in travel shows. I knew the world was big, but my vision was as limited as my time and money.

As I got older, I came to resent the phrase. In Youtube videos and blogs, to "be a local" seems synonymous to traveling "authentically" and getting "real" experiences. What does that actually mean to people when they say it? What did it mean to me?

The privilege of travel

When you have more money, you can afford convenience and ease. You can choose a taxi or shuttle instead of public transport. You can afford to eat anywhere and eating street food is a choice, not a necessity. You can stay somewhere convenient and save time on commuting. If you have less money, you have less ability to choose all of these things. You might choose to stay somewhere cheaper and sacrifice time. Or you may opt for cheaper food to stay somewhere convenient.

If you have more money, whether by amount or a favorable exchange rate, that puts you at an advantage over locals. Is that still real or authentic?

There's the matter of looking like a visitor too. You absolutely will get treated differently if you look like you belong. My Seattle friends who look and act like me are treated as kama'aina in Hawaii. With my brown skin and dark hair, there isn't any expectation that I am a local in Japan or Iceland. Thanks to colonialism, there are countries that might treat you better if you're white, might treat you worse if you're black, and scam you all the same if you look like them and can't speak the language.

When I watch Youtubers say Philippine people are nice, that's in contrast to my lived-in-the-PI-until-his-thirties-US-citizen cousin's experience of bribing cops because they knew he was a tourist. I'm sure there are other experiences, but which one is authentic?

When I listen to someone's experience, I consider what they look like. Did they get treated well because they're a visitor or because they look the way they look? My Japanese coworker telling me that Japan has great customer service is very different from a white Youtuber saying the same thing. When my Japanese-speaking BFF who looks like me shares their opinions, so I'm more inclined to believe all of them.

I've watched TikTok videos of foreign exchange students in Thailand and Black teachers in Japan. All of their experiences are real and they're all different. Is one really more authentic than another?

Entitled to authenticity

I think about how people want to avoid doing the "touristy" things, but is that so bad? Is it so bad to exist in spaces meant for people who are tourists? Is it so bad that your experience is like every other visitor? Is it so bad that it isn't unique?

There's entitlement in believing that a place opens all its doors to you. Much like a person doesn't reveal all their dreams and insecurities, your vacation destination is the same—and it doesn't owe you a good time. Secret spots traded on trust in Hawaii, yet tourists light them up on Instagram and TikTok. The same spots are also trashed and left worse off than before. Anyone remember the soap foam in Waihe'e? Is it any wonder that there's animosity towards people who believe sacred spaces clean up after themselves?

In the same way that 19th-century English writers ventured to India, Africa, or some unconquered territory to gain new perspective and enlightenment, tourism does the same. Visitors pay to have the same experiences for the same enlightenment and to have their world changed in the same ways as the books they read or the TikToks they watch. The only difference is that instead of directly enslaving people, tourists use money to do it instead.

Tourism exploits the host culture and demands that it offer up more and more of itself to those who want the exotic. It commodifies nature, sells people as products, and their lived experiences as services. This industry serves people who believe they paid to be served. Even more insidious, it takes advantage of cultures that already believe in treating each other well. That practice is more ancient than any anthropological assessment, and it is priceless.

What cheapens it is the tourism industry that takes more than it gives.

I'm always interested in seeing what parts of a place people love when they visit. Enjoying a vacation and loving a place aren't the same thing to me. Some people stay the whole time in a hotel and call it a good vacation, that's great. I'm glad, I believe in rest. What does your rest cost other people supporting it?

When you say you love Hawaii, what do you love? Do you only love the perfectly manicured lawns and golf courses with non-native plants? Do you only love the sterile song of the ocean without the boundless joy of those who soak it in? Do you only value the illusion of isolation even if it means others can't easily access the same sea and sky?

Money can buy a lot of things, but it can’t buy perspective.

When a local asks what you liked about your vacation, you don’t have to impress us, we already know what’s good. Of course food is good, of course places are beautiful, we know that already. We don't want you to only see the commodified version of our existence and it's not an invitation to all our secret spots and places. We're asking if you respect it as we do and see it as we do…Even if it means you can't access it like we do. Eating food or going to a publicly accessible place is sometimes the closest you can get to a local's experience, and that's ok.

You are a tourist, and it's ok to call yourself one.

Be a good guest

All this to say, can you really have that real and authentic experience and really visit like a local?

Real? Sure, I'm not gonna tell you that you didn't swim at a great beach.
Authentic? Maybe, but ask yourself what you’re trying to prove with that title.
Be a local? No. That's like saying you're smart. Other people can say that about you, but once you start saying it about yourself, you look ridiculous.

There is no perfect recipe to be a tourist and good guest, but there are lots of ways to be bad at both.

It's ok to be a tourist. I love being a tourist. I like seeing things I wouldn't see at home. I like not knowing things. I like trying something new. I know what I like, so I won't be lining up for IG photo spots, but I love visiting places where and when I'm welcome. That could be a random food festival or a smaller public park to eat.

To be clear, tourism isn't all bad, but it is always exploitative.

Local people sustain the tourism industry. In Hawaii, small surf businesses, wedding businesses, mom and pop businesses, and food businesses supplement a vacation experience and may only see fractions of the profit. Some may barely break even. The industry's investments into the local infrastructure only serve itself. Your tourism dollars buy trap people in an industry of servitude, vulnerable and with few ways out. Unchecked tourism doesn't seek symbiosis, it's a parasite sucking the culture dry.

You might believe your money is "good" for the economy. It often comes at the cost of erasing local culture and exploiting the environment. It's like gentrifying a place you don't live in; all the money is used to serve the industry… Not the locals who have to work in it, not the environment that serves it. In some cases, it's gentrifying it just enough so it's enticing for outsiders to move in and call themselves locals.

When you are a tourist, you have the option to leave. You get to leave your fantasy of being a local to return to your “authentic” life.

It's ok to be a tourist and guest

The reality is that we aren’t all Anthony Bourdain. Not everyone is a conscientious traveler. Not everyone is looking for authenticity. They just want the experience that money affords them. And sometimes that experience goes as far as buying a house for their forever vacation home.

To eat/live/be like a local when you travel is to recognize you may never be one. You will always have privileges that your country of origin, currency of origin, and appearance afford you when in a new place. Your vacations will operate outside of the historical context of your destination. You can choose how much, and how little, you engage with the lived realities of the people around you and still contribute to their wealth (or lack of).

You can buy land, tan your skin, eat our food, and still never be a local. You can force your neighborhoods to look like you and sound like you, devoid of roosters and pigs and people who have lived here longer than you and still never be local. Your otherness is a gift, an opportunity to gain new perspective while insulated by your privilege. If you commit to changing and learning from your hosts, maybe one day you’ll earn the privilege to pass as a local.

Until then, it's ok to be a tourist. My advice? Listen and learn from the people who graciously share their home with you. Be a good guest and follow their lead.

And every good guest knows when to come, what's off limits, and when it's time to go.