By Rosie Lu
Venice seemed like a time capsule of the Renaissance, the beauty of its arched bridges and colorful Baroque buildings undeniable whether I traveled by boat or on foot. Without cars clogging its streets, sending smog into the atmosphere, you’d think that such a romantic, historical location would be the ideal utopia for everyday living. But alas, nearly no restaurant I ate at in this vibrant city over my three-day stay served more than a couple parties of locals, and the vaporettos that Venetians supposedly use in place of buses and metros? All tourists, perpetually bothering the weary operators who probably repeated the same answers like clockwork.
By my second day in Italy, I came to the harsh realization that tourists dramatically outnumbered locals here, and I was likely part of the problem. The Trevi Fountain in Rome, once a revered Baroque masterpiece, is now as crowded as a concert pit section, reduced to nothing but a pickpocket hotspot and pretty photo-op. The majestic Colosseum—grand amphitheater and epitome of Roman engineering—is no longer accessible without booking weeks in advance.
As in every country with a major tourism industry, the abundance of visitors in Italy is something of a paradox. An economy already so reliant on tourism would be bound to experience some variety of strain without it—the industry currently supports 3.2 million jobs and contributes 215 billion euros, or around 10.5% of Italy’s annual revenue. Regardless, a vast majority of these tourists readily spend on food, transportation, and housing, which in turn hikes up living expenses for locals. The profoundness of these effects is especially apparent in Venice, where 1,000 residents move away annually, one in three apartments are tourist properties, and rents have tripled over the past two decades. Although all widely known Italian cities share similarly dismaying population and housing statistics, the truly irreparable aspect of tourist damage is culture dilution, or rather, the replacement of authentic character with an industry-induced economic monoculture. Florence’s endangered UNESCO World Heritage status, the commercialization of panini shop All’Antico Vinaio, and the loss of traditional businesses to souvenir shops all strongly hint to the broad “Disneyfication” of Italy; a transformation from living cities to a playground for foreign visitors and a scenic backdrop for social media content.
Making Italy accessible to no one but the wealthy through higher entrance fees and rent will only contribute to inflation, but a truly effective solution requires acceptance that not everyone can visit everywhere simultaneously. Perhaps Venice’s five euro entrance fee is not an uncrossable barrier for anyone who can afford to fly there, but in conjunction with cruise ship limits and hotel caps, Italy can send a message: the city belongs to its residents first. Florence and Rome will not benefit from fewer tourists—they need people who stay in family-run pensiones rather than Airbnbs, who dine in tiny neighborhood osterias instead of the trendy, over-glamorized restaurant with an English menu, who will spend money to support dedicated artisans in their craft.
I posted photos from this trip, and someone will probably see them and want to visit, as well. It’s an endless cycle, a paradox you will inevitably play a part in and have no solution for. It would be complete hypocrisy to tell you not to travel to Italy, but when you do, remember that if we treat travel as content to consume rather than culture to respect and cherish, we destroy what drew us to that destination in the first place.