We’ve all seen those Instagram posts: #authentictravel. The fisherman perfectly posed on his stilt, the monk receiving alms at dawn, the ‘local’ market (that somehow has fifty tourists for every local).
I’ll be honest. I’ve chased these experiences myself. I’ve woken at 5 am in Luang Prabang to photograph monks collecting alms. I’ve stopped to capture Sri Lanka’s stilt fishermen. And each time, I’ve wondered: Is this really what authentic travel looks like?
Here’s what 30 years of travel has taught me: the whole concept needs rethinking.
The Problem With ‘Authentic’ Travel
Most of us use ‘authentic’ to mean non-touristy. We want the ‘real’ version of a place, not the sanitised tourist one. We avoid anything that smells of tour groups and seek out where locals actually go.
But there’s a fundamental flaw in this thinking.
Who gets to decide what’s real?
When I visited those stilt fishermen in Kathaluwa, Sri Lanka, I assumed I was witnessing an ancient tradition. The image looked suitably traditional, which ticked my authenticity box.
Except it wasn’t ancient at all. This practice started during World War II when local men began fishing on stilts to overcome food shortages. And after the tsunami decimated fishing stocks, many ‘fishermen’ now rent their stilts to people who pose for tourists during monsoon season.
I wasn’t witnessing a tradition. I was watching a performance.
When ‘Authentic’ Experiences Become Theatre
That dawn almsgiving ceremony in Luang Prabang? Magnificent to watch. Hundreds of saffron-robed monks walking barefoot through the streets, receiving offerings from the devout.
But look closer, and you’ll spot tour groups shuffling alongside, cameras thrust in monks’ faces, chatting throughout the procession. Some tourists even join in the giving without understanding what it means, buying pre-packaged offerings from vendors who’ve appeared specifically for the tourist trade.
The ritual continues, but it’s become something else. Neither entirely traditional nor entirely staged. Just… different.
Cultures Aren’t Museums
Here’s the thing: cultures evolve. They always have.
Take my hometown of London. Some visitors dismiss the West End theatre district as touristy, whilst considering the curry houses of Brick Lane more ‘real’.
But theatre has been part of London since the 17th century. Those Bangladeshi restaurants only arrived in the 1970s.
Which one is more authentically London? Both. Neither. The question itself is wrong.
The Real Issue With Chasing Authenticity
Beyond the definitional problems, there’s something more troubling about the pursuit of authentic travel.
It can turn people into exhibits.
When we seek out the ‘exotic’, the most different and foreign experiences, we risk reducing locals to photo opportunities. To something to be gawked at. We create human zoos where we’re spectators, and they’re the show.
I’ve watched tourists chase that perfect shot of a monk, completely oblivious to the disrespect they’re showing. I’ve seen travellers treat traditional dress as a costume for their Instagram feed.
This isn’t connection, it’s consumption.
What Travel Could Be Instead
Perhaps the question isn’t “Is this authentic?” but “Is this meaningful to me?”
The lazy approach to travel is ticking off prescribed experiences: Ethiopian tea ceremony, check. Traditional ramen in Tokyo, check. Running with bulls in Pamplona, check.
What if instead you created experiences that were true to yourself? That pushed you out of your comfort zone or taught you something new?
It doesn’t matter if that includes ‘touristy’ things.
When I’m somewhere new, I visit museums. Yes, museums, that supposedly touristy pursuit. Because I genuinely learn about a place’s history and culture.
I come away understanding the threads that make up a country, rather than just collecting snapshots of difference.
I also eat where locals eat. And where tourists eat. Because food is food, and sometimes that tourist restaurant serves excellent meals. The label matters less than the experience
How to Travel More Meaningfully
If you’re looking to move beyond surface-level tourism, here’s what actually works:
- Learn something before you arrive. Read beyond the guidebook. Understand the history, the politics, the context. You’ll spot the nuances others miss.
- Spend time, not just money. Slow down. Stay longer. Return to the same cafe. Chat with people without your camera ready. Real connection happens in the pauses, not the photo ops.
- Question your assumptions. When something looks perfectly ‘authentic’, ask yourself: for whose benefit is this being performed? That doesn’t make it worthless, just different from what you imagined.
- Respect people’s autonomy. Don’t photograph people without asking. Don’t treat traditional dress as a costume you can try on. Don’t walk into religious spaces as if they’re theme parks.
- Accept that you’re a tourist. You are. I am. We all are when we travel. There’s no shame in that. The goal isn’t to pretend otherwise, but to be a thoughtful tourist.
- Focus on learning, not collecting. I’d rather spend an afternoon understanding why Bologna prefers tagliatelle than eat mediocre ‘Spaghetti Bolognese’ in five different cities.
The Bottom Line
Authentic travel, as most people define it, doesn’t exist. Destinations aren’t static museums preserving some ‘original’ version of themselves for your consumption.
What does exist is thoughtful travel. Respectful travel. Travel where you’re genuinely curious about people and places, not just hunting for exotic backdrops for your feed.
It is through knowledge and an appreciation of the diverse threads of a country that we get to understand it, not by forsaking the ‘touristy’ for the ‘authentic.’
The irony is that once you stop chasing authenticity, you often stumble into the most memorable experiences. The ones that matter. The ones that change you.
And isn’t that what travel should be about?
About Bridget
Bridget Coleman has been a passionate traveller for more than 30 years. She has visited 70+ countries, most as a solo traveller.
Articles on this site reflect her first-hand experiences.
To get in touch, email her at hello@theflashpacker.net or follow her on social media.