Arrogant Former Expats and the Long Love-Hate Relationship with Tourism

 

"Just let the tourists gorge themselves on those overpriced Cotswold afternoon teas!"

 

This scornful remark came from acquaintances of mine who spent mere few years of their youth living in England some thirty years ago. Having also lived in America for much of their early life, they were no stranger to long-term stays abroad. Still, it struck me as peculiar that someone with only a passing connection to tourism could voice such a seemingly authoritative opinion on the subject.

 

There’s a curious phenomenon among some who have lived overseas for an extended period, especially in their early childhood. A sense of distinction begins to grow—an invisible line separating themselves from mere tourists. For these individuals, their time abroad elevates them in their own eyes to residents or locals, entirely distinct from transient visitors.

 

Indeed, the longer the stay, the stronger this mentality tends to become. It’s as though time alone confers an unspoken badge of authenticity. While there’s truth in the idea that long-term immersion provides a deeper understanding of a place, it’s easy for this to slip into a kind of self-delusion. They might forget that, to the locals, they remain unmistakably foreign, no matter how well they seemed to be blend in.

 

One acquaintance, who spent a few years in London, became an ardent campaigner against the West End musicals, claiming they were merely a playground for tourists. To her, London was a place to live, not to visit for frivolous entertainment. The irony of her stance was not lost on me—was this not someone who had, for a brief time in the beginning, been a visitor herself? Yet she seemed determined to draw a line between "true Japanese Londoners" and those who came merely to marvel.

 

It’s an attitude I’ve encountered often: those who, after mere few years abroad, adopt an air of condescension towards fellow countrymen visiting as tourists. Some even sneer at their compatriots for indulging in "cliched" activities like afternoon tea or sightseeing tours of Westminster Abbey. They pride themselves on knowing the "real" city, often recommending obscure churches or hidden neighbourhoods that might hold personal significance but lack wider appeal.

 

As one engaged in travel industry, I’ve long found such attitudes dispiriting. Thirty years ago, in the aftermath of Japan’s economic bubble, I entered the world of tourism to help bridge the gap between curious Japanese travellers and the wider world. My goal was to create experiences that showcased both the familiar and the novel, guiding people to iconic landmarks as well as lesser-known treasures.

 

The West End, for example, was an unmissable highlight of London’s cultural scene—perfect for first-time visitors eager to soak up the city’s vibrancy. Yes, it was touristy. But tourism itself plays a vital role, not only in introducing people to new cultures but also in supporting local economies. It was disheartening, then, to hear of campaigns like the so-called "anti-West End movement" and similar sentiments from long-term expats who seemed to forget their own origins as outsiders.

 

I once encountered someone who had lived in the UK only for five or six years yet carried a self-assured mentality that they were a “local” and distinctly not a tourist. This person remarked, with a dismissive wave, “Oh, just let the tourists have those overpriced Cotswolds afternoon teas.” Observing this attitude was, to say the least, a pathetic experience.

 

In the past—about 30 years ago—some Japanese who had lived abroad for a mere handful of years often deluded themselves into believing they had fully integrated into the local community. They seemed to fancy themselves as having ascended to a different status, far removed from mere tourists. This sense of superiority led them to mock tourists with open disdain. Even after decades back in Japan, their mentality appeared unchanged; they still laughed heartily at tourists, belittling them with the same arrogance.

 

As someone who has devoted one’s career to planning tours for Japanese travellers venturing overseas, I find such attitudes not only regrettable but also deeply disappointing. Travel should be about fostering connections and broadening perspectives, not about drawing lines between oneself and others based on a misplaced sense of belonging.

 

I often heard remarks from Japanese individuals who had lived in London for a considerable time, dismissing popular tourist destinations as “cookie-cutter” attractions, lamenting that Japanese visitors fail to experience the “real” Britain.

 

It’s true that many tours cater to the time constraints of travellers, offering highlights like Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, or Buckingham Palace. These sites, steeped in history, have become staples of any London itinerary, albeit primarily viewed from the outside.

 

However, long-term Japanese residents in London often expressed disdain for such experiences, criticising them as superficial. Their opinion was clear: such tourists were merely skimming the surface of London, making no effort to truly understand its essence.

 

Curious about their perspective, I would ask, “Where would one go to discover the real London?” The answers typically pointed to small, lesser-known churches. When I pressed further about what made these places special or worth visiting, the response was often along the lines of, “It’s a church I personally love. I’ve been here for years, and I can vouch for it.”

 

Unfortunately, these suggestions often lacked broader appeal. Upon researching these recommendations, I found little evidence to suggest that they held sufficient value to justify their inclusion in a tour itinerary. For tourists paying substantial sums to visit London, these obscure locations seemed neither compelling nor appropriate.

 

I have often heard the argument that, “If the church I recommended isn’t included in the tour, it’s the fault of the Japanese side.” Yet, can travel recommendations really be based on the notion that “this church was good for me, so it should definitely be included in the tour”? Surely, the success of a holiday cannot hinge on such subjective criteria.

 

The key questions are: who exactly is the target customer? What are the selling points? Is this place truly worth visiting, and what is it about it that will evoke a genuine emotional response?

 

From those who have lived abroad for an extended period, I’ve rarely encountered any marketing-minded insights. Instead, what often emerges are sweeping, personal opinions, such as, “It worked for me as a Japanese person, so it must be good for others too.” It’s a blunt, almost dismissive attitude that overlooks the crucial factors that make a destination or experience compelling for tourists.

 

This superiority complex often extends to food and drink. The much-maligned "overpriced afternoon tea" in the Cotswolds is a case in point. True, it’s marketed to tourists, but why shouldn’t it be? For many, the chance to sit in a quaint countryside tea room, enjoying scones, clotted cream, and jam, is a quintessentially British experience. Dismissing it outright as tacky or overpriced ignores its cultural significance—and the simple joy it brings to those discovering it for the first time. Sipping on Earl Grey and nibbling on finger sandwiches is an experience far richer than mere sustenance—it’s a step back into another era.

 

West End musicals, now firmly established as a quintessential part of London’s entertainment scene, continue to be a major draw for theatre-goers. It's no surprise that many people, eager to experience this iconic aspect of British culture, regularly express their desire to visit the theatres.

 

Above all, in the post-pandemic world, it's clear that the service and entertainment industries are striving with great determination to regain their footing. The pandemic hit these sectors hard, and their recovery efforts are nothing short of relentless.

 

For those who have lived abroad for an extended period, it’s easy to dismiss certain tourist activities as merely 'standard fare' or 'touristy experiences'. However, for first-time visitors from Japan, such activities represent an invaluable, irreplaceable experience.

 

I would urge those who have spent years living overseas not to dismiss these moments with a glib "this is unthinkable from the perspective of someone who's lived abroad for so long". We must remember that even the most seasoned traveller had a first year, filled with new experiences and discoveries.

 

I shall not forget that initial wonder and, above all, not belittle those who visit with a sense of awe, as if their experiences are somehow less valid.

 

Of course, tourism isn’t without its challenges. Over-tourism and cultural commodification are genuine concerns, particularly in the wake of the pandemic. Many destinations are grappling with how to manage the influx of visitors while preserving their essence. But the answer isn’t to belittle those who come seeking a taste of the unfamiliar. For first-time travellers, even the most "touristy" experiences can be transformative.

 

It’s worth remembering that everyone starts somewhere. The expat or former expat who now scoffs at Big Ben and Buckingham Palace likely began their own journey with similar wide-eyed wonder. To dismiss others for enjoying these same landmarks is not only unkind but deeply hypocritical.

 

To claim, after just five or six years of residence, to know the local area so well that one feels almost as if they have truly integrated, and to then assert an understanding of the needs of Japanese tourists, is a misconception that borders on the absurd.

 

At a time when global travel is slowly recovering, tourism remains a vital lifeline for countless communities. Let us not undermine its value or the joy it brings to millions. Instead, let’s celebrate the opportunity to share the world’s beauty—be it an iconic London musical, a Cotswold tea room, or even the simple pleasure of visiting a cathedral.

 

If nothing else, let’s set aside condescension and embrace the idea that travel, at its heart, is about connection, discovery, and joy. Whether you’re a long-term resident or a first-time visitor, those moments of wonder are worth cherishing—and sharing.