I am in Goa, again. Before leaving this time, a friend asked me to check out a new pub that had opened. “It’s next level. Everyone’s been talking about it”, he said. He hadn’t been to this pub yet. Before we moved on to opining on other things that we were experts on, like Biden’s handling of Afghanistan, he had already forwarded me a list of new places to check out when I am in Goa. The WhatsApp message had a ‘Forwarded many times’ tag on the top right.
I have, in the past, googled and skimmed through listicles that random websites put out — “6 New pubs for a tipple”, “10 Breakfast places to start your day“, “5 lounges for the party animal in you”. Every so often, you wonder how a particular place even made it on the list. Well, how these lists are gamed is a post for a different day.
We love travel lists. Lists by definition distillate, and present us a nice sanitized stack of places to checkbox. They outsource experimentation. They take out chance from the equation.
Someone I know mentioned, “thanks to Google Maps, this generation will never know what it is like to be physically lost” — that feeling of dread, adventure, fleeting helplessness, and the nervous excitement when familiarity resurfaces. The thought stirs a kind of sadness, doesn’t it?
This generation might, similarly, not know what ‘serendipity’ feels like — that feeling of chance discovery of a family run fish thali place. A roadside bar which serves the best Onion Bhajji as bar snack. A Choriz Pao cart parked on a lonely road, late into an alcohol induced night.
Feelings, like species, can go extinct. Some can’t keep up with our changing socio-physical environment. Emotional Darwinism, we should call it.
What am I lamenting over? This idea of sourcing recommendations isn’t a novel phenomenon. Think of Lonely Planet guides in the hands of ‘intrepid’ backpackers from back in the day. It set in motion the Lonely Planet paradox — a place would get a mention on the LP guide, would become ridiculously popular, become a tourist trap, commercialize, and invariably dip in quality. So it went.
Technology supercharges everything. It eliminates the friction of navigating a thick book printed in tiny text, and puts efficiently searchable, sortable list in everyone’s hands. It makes everything ephemeral and cheap. A Lonely Planet entry would last, at least until an updated edition showed up in a year or two. In the case of online lists, and WhatsApp forwards, the marginal (and emotional) cost of editing and overwriting the list is zero.
There is something about starting from minimal expectation, and then be completely blown over by an experience, than be nudged into believing something, even before one actually experiences it. It forces an anchoring effect, the human tendency to heavily rely on the first piece of information when deciding on something, and then form all subsequent opinions around it.
While lists can be useful when we are short on time, there is an urgent need to experience the unpleasant, the not-so-good, and the complete disasters. Only that can make us appreciate the truly great. It’s the terrible that gives meaning to the truly great. I mean, which list would have Sai Café, with a Kwality Wall’s branding for signage, that serves the great Ras Omelette and Hot Tea on a rainy Goa afternoon.
It is the same thing with playlists too, would you agree Abhimanyu? Loved the note though I found it too short. I know, demanding much? :). Long ago, in fact long long long ago when we were in Goa, I don’t think we consulted any list. I don’t think we remember anything else from that trip except what some terribly taken pics remind us of. Oh wait! We remember the face my friend made when he ate something in a restaurant that we randomly went into. Lovely post!
P.S. - you say ‘There is something about starting from minimal expectation, and then be completely blown over by an experience’? I have lived by this. I still cannot believe I am breathing and typing this message…all at the same time! #SorryJustSorry