Travel and Tourism

I keep reading stories about the impact of tourism on popular destinations. Amsterdam is planning a cruise ship ban, Japan has introduced visitor caps for Mt Fuji and imposed tourist taxes elsewhere and, a month or two back, diners in Barcelona restaurants were sprayed with water pistols by protestors. Closer to home there is concern in our green spaces about erosion, congestion and more. In the Lake District, an area close to my heart, erosion by many feet on some of the more popular trails keep the volunteers busy repairing and protecting, and I’ve been reading about efforts to contain traffic around Ullswater by the introduction of community buses. It’s a challenge and a dilemma – how to share those special places without destroying them in the process. One I feel sure I’ll return to.

All this chimed with the events in Luke’s gospel which dates the birth of Christ by reference to a census which may well not have taken place. Whatever the truths about the census it is clear from the account that hospitality in these areas could be stretched to the limit – to the point where there was no room at the Inn. Although the earth was less fragile then, overcrowding at key times could be an issue and, with this in mind, I offer an insight into what the innkeeper may have been feeling. Written some time ago I’m still happy with the tone of the piece, and the contemporary relevance of the last three lines.

The innkeeper

Business was brisk
all sorts coming to town
bad pennies turning up 
as well as local folk made good,
all wanting rooms, 
stabling, 
food 
and wine.

Well, I’m an innkeeper
so I thought ‘Fine. 
Let ‘em come. 
Business is business 
and I’ll make a few bob.’
You need the odd bonus
when you’re doing my job.
And if the authorities want all and sundry
to take to the road
I’ll welcome them all 
as they take the load off their weary feet
and so they came, pounding the street,
young and old, families too 
squeezing in to all my rooms
demanding supper.

The night was drawing in when the last room went.
I’d just settled the guests in when Joseph came 
with his woman on a donkey
carrying a baby in her womb.
I was sorry for them but had no room.
They looked all in. 
I was their last port of call.
Anything would do them he said
Anything at all

so I put them with the oxen,
thought that would keep them warm,
wasn’t expecting the commotion 
when the babe was born.
Shepherds off the fields.
Foreigners too.
Come to stare like it was a zoo.

And after they’d gone, soldiers 
wanting details I wasn’t giving.
In this job, to make a living
you need to be discreet.
So off they went, storming down the street
making some other guy’s life a misery.

What I don’t understand is why.
Why persecute those with nothing.
What threat are they?

                                                                                                             ©C A Earnshaw 13.12.21

                      Image courtesy of Alessandro Capurso under a Creative Commons license