The illusion of authentic

Everyone says they want the real thing.

The authentic. The untouched. The true.

But what they really want…
is the idea of it.

Something they can photograph. Something they can share.
Something that feels real, without being too real.

They say they’re seeking truth, but only if it fits in their carry-on.

We build entire industries around this illusion.
Villages that stay poor so they can look “charming.”
Fishermen who stop fishing to perform being fishermen.
Cultures that rehearse their identities for passing cameras.

Martin Heidegger called it inauthentic existence, when we live not for ourselves, but in the shadow of what others expect of us.
Jean-Paul Sartre might say we are condemned to be free, but we spend our freedom choosing from pre-curated Airbnb experiences.
And Kierkegaard woul’d probably laugh. Because he knew despair was born not from failure, but from succeeding at being someone you’re not.

The modern traveler claims to want connection.
But they follow GPS trails to the same overlook.
Read blogs to find the hidden gem that’s already been hashtagged 27,000 times.

They want a story. Not an encounter.

And tourism gives it to them.

Because the truth is: most people don’t want authenticity.
They want the comfort of recognizable difference.
Something exotic enough to feel special,
but safe enough to not challenge who they are.

So we sell it. Curated spontaneity.
Packaged wonder.
The illusion of discovery, with breakfast included.

But there’s a twist:
The authentic moment can’t be bought.
It won’t wait at the end of a trail marked “secret.”
And it never performs for the camera.

It happens when you least expect it.
When you get lost.
When something breaks.
When you stop seeking, and start being.

And that’s the hardest thing to sell in tourism.
Because it requires the one thing our industry is terrified of:
Letting go.