They paved over paradise and now it's too hot to visit
They paved over paradise and now it's too hot to visit
Jack Hamilton and the trouble with travel as climate change bites.
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(John Maxwell Hamilton is a former foreign correspondent and the Hopkins P. Breazeale Professor in Louisiana State University’s Manship School of Mass Communication and a Global Fellow in the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars. His most recent book is “The French 75, the story of a cocktail created by war propagandists”.
MATERA, Italy (Callaway Climate Insights) — Off and on, for some time now, I have explored the various ways foreign travel has become less edifying. My central thesis is that the world is increasingly paved over and homogenized.
Or, to put it another way, the easier it is to get someplace, the less worthwhile it is to go.
In our paved-over world, authenticity gives way to canned tourist attractions, food that caters to our hometown preferences, and stores that sell t-shirts saying, “I Survived Pompeii.”
But here in boiling Italy, I have faced up to another reason that travel has become less enjoyable. It is too damn hot. This may seem like a different tangent, but that is not so. The two points — homogeneity and heat — are related.
Temperatures have been climbing in Italy as everywhere else. The result is that summers are no longer bright. They blaze. This July the Italian health ministry issued an orange heat alert for Rome and other parts of the country on account of temperatures heading toward 40 degrees Celsius or 104 Fahrenheit. Heat advisories have cautioned even healthy people are at risk.
One report warned, “Very high temperatures may warp rail tracks and force passenger and freight trains to operate at reduced speeds. Road surface damage is also possible, and overheated vehicles may worsen traffic problems in urban areas where congestion is already a problem.”
The usual panoply of climate-change horrors — from violent storms to drought — are also on the agenda. Some sites on the island of Sicily have been forced to turn away tourists due to water shortages.
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Boldly seek out new adventures in the shade
The point of travel is to put ourselves out there, to be slightly uncomfortable by immersing ourselves in foreign spaces. The idea is to see and learn new things. But that is even harder to do when fears of sunburn become fears of heat stroke.
Matera, one of the oldest continuously inhabited towns in the world, is one such hotspot. Some believed it was settled around the 10th millennium BC. Its long history is intertwined with environmental transformation.
The city lies in a large cleavage in the earth, which was originally dense forest. Over the centuries caves were dug into the limestone creating a warren of homes and shops. As the population grew, these dwellings, often housing farm animals as well as people, became smelly petri dishes for disease, and new homes were built on top of the earth in a more traditional manner.
Today’s Madera is covered in buildings and streets. That is, it’s literally paved over. Nothing evidences the forest origins of Matera except for a mid-city place a tourist guide drolly called “The Forest.” It has four trees.
The limestone town is stunning. It picturesquely undulates over the steep sides of the valley that cradles it. It has been a backdrop for several movies, including Mel Gibson’s “The Passion of the Christ” and, taking an opposite view on morality, the James Bond flick “Still Time to Die”. It is, in other words, a destination.
While people live happily in the quaint homes, what you see mostly is sweaty tourists. They throng the streets. They jam little shops that sell trinkets. One gimmick is a wooden block with your initials. It is supposedly like ones used centuries ago.
The idea was to mark bread dough to discourage people from swiping it after baking. But in the heat, the places that begin to have the most appeal are gelato shops, especially if they are air conditioned, which is a relatively new concept here.
The great paradox of tourism is that it is supposed to celebrate a place but often ends up trampling it. Time and again, Italian journalists have ruefully told me that the country works hard to make itself look like the images Americans have in their minds.
Hot off the beaten path
As an experiment, we went off the beaten track to the hilltop town of Pietrabbondante in the Molise region. You won’t find flashy tourist hotels here. You can get a lovely B&B — Borgo San Pietro — overlooking the lush valley below the city. At a tidy café we hung out with local kids and senior citizens.
We had dinner at Terra Mia, a lovely start-up restaurant opened by a joyful local couple. The food is creative and tasty. The beef is sourced by the husband's family in the valley.
Wandering the narrow uncrowded streets was refreshing. Not far outside town is Santuario Italico, extensive pre-Roman stone ruins dating from 400 BC. Hannibal sacked the city around 200 BC. Only one busload of peaceful tourists was there when we were.
But the problem of heat intruded. The mountains and valleys are lush, true enough, but once the sun rose, a heat-induced haze obscured the panorama.
Ideas have been floated in Europe about changing school schedules so students can sit in class in the summer and switch family holidays to the cooler months. We met a Norwegian family while we were visiting Pompeii. Their trip seemed anomalous. The reverse is likely to become more common. That is, Italians will spend their summers in Scandinavia.
The constant quest for shade is the new enemy of tourism. Our lives will be impoverished if we retreat into our homes and experience the world through television documentaries. Part of the joy of travel is imbibing the smells and sounds, even trying a dish you end up hating. It’s part of what it means to learn.
But we might as well face it. Savoring the world is becoming more difficult.
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