Let me state from the outset that though I follow these matters journalistically and have been around the block as a reporter and traveller for quite some time, I am no expert on tourism. In fact, over the years, I have had the pleasure of listening attentively to fine professionals in the field from T&T and the wider Caribbean–always lending a critical, often sceptical ear to what is on offer.
I have however long been among an ostracised few who believe that the volatility of the industry, the fragility of our tourism eco-systems and some of the sector's psycho-social impacts could hardly position it as a reliable, sustainable pursuit to take us up the development ladder over the long term.
I however concede that there exist a few examples in the region where the industry has in fact pulled off more than one economic rescue act and in which this continues to be the case. I also believe, once we get things right, tourism can play a suitable, proportionate role right here as well, if we get it right.
Nobel laureate Derek Walcott once surmised that there is "a big risk" of the Caribbean being viewed as a collective tourist resort and that our governments frequently run the risk of "neglecting the needs of the Caribbean people in terms of the villages that are near to beaches, big hotels that are near to poverty." Such a scenario, the famous poet suggested, "takes a very delicate balance for it to work."
We may add to this, the vulnerabilities of our tourism eco-systems within the context of climate change and the growing desperation occasioned by poor development planning in the region, leading to disproportionate reliance on our most fragile environmental assets in order to keep this industry going.
I nevertheless contend that if, indeed, we propose to increase reliance on the tourism industry to pick up some of the slack left by the energy sector, there are a few other things we need to put in place so as to get it right.
For one, in order for people to start thinking about your country as a place to visit, they must first know about you. One relative of mine, who is a development planner currently based on the African continent, said to me recently that to many people she has met during her global professional sojourns, T&T is "invisible."
This is step number one. People must know you exist and you cannot be delusional about the impact of a few examples of international excellence–Miss World, Miss Universe, steelpan, Olympics, cricket etc.
Reality check. People do not know about us.
Okay, once we have piqued the interest of these people who have recently come to know us we need to get them here. The country then embarks on a concerted effort to attract airlines and cruise ships and convince them that they can generate sufficient revenue on the route this deep south of the more popular Caribbean destinations.
All well and good. Air Canada has returned and, for what it's worth, there is a degree of improved cruise-liner interest. So, we get the people here. What next?
What next is either Piarco International Airport or ANR Robinson International, if you come by air. There is where part two or three of the challenge begins.
Where is it written that the default position of immigration authorities is to keep visitors out if there isn't a good reason to let them in? Whatever the marketing budget to get people to visit here the effort has the potential to be blown at three main points–on entry, during the course of the stay, and upon departure.
So, let's concede that the propensity to shatter visitor goodwill at the port of entry is abundant. This includes significant regional contributors to visitor arrivals–our neighbours from Barbados, Grenada and Guyana–and the big international visitor sources from the US, UK, Canada and Germany, in that order.
Having blown our chances at the ports of entry, courtesy immigration and customs, let's see what happens during the visit. I have written before about customer service delivery in T&T without specific focus on international tourism. The treatment domestic tourists receive is the same as the treatment of fellow nationals at the fast food outlets and only marginally better when it comes to non-nationals. We somehow manage to maintain the negative image first encountered at the airport.
Now, don't get me wrong. Trinidadians and Tobagonians are essentially "nice," hospitable people. But, however impressive the tourism plant (and most of our hoteliers try very hard), visitors often get to know this only when they are off the tourism trail.
Let's fast-forward to the part when the visitors are about to leave. Remember, we just barely got their attention in the first place on account of invisibility and poor marketing and blew it upon arrival. Then they realise that at the hotels, restaurants, stores and entertainment venues there is not really a healthy attitude toward helping them use the money they had planned to spend on the trip.
So, it's time to leave. Now, I have been in close quarters with airline staff before and I can attest to the fact that most of them are decent human beings. But, do attendants at the check-in counter understand their role as part of the tourism experience–including the importance, dear CAL and Liat, of our Caribbean visitors?
It is also true that airport security is an especially difficult undertaking in these times, and there is a universal template of arrogance and indifference to the needs of travellers. But at a time when we need to realise that the last memory of a place visited can be the most enduring recollection, something needs to be done to ensure that this phase of the tourism struggle is engaged more rigorously.
And, I am out of space.
Yes, folks, this thing hard. Real hard.