The Blurry Line Between Real and Fake

The Oliver St. John Gogarty "Tourist" Bar, DublinFor the past four days, I have been in Dubin, Ireland without a steady internet connection, which is why this posting is a few days late. However, while there I had a personal encounter with McCannell's theory on tourism and authenticity which I think will prove very relevant to our proposed topic. McCannell argues that what tourists seek to achieve in their travels is a certain authenticity, a glimpse into the "back regions" of other societies, an in-their-shoes experience. And so what the industry of tourism attempts to do is recreate these back regions inside the "front regions", in essence "faking" authenticity. It is, therefore, nearly impossible for a stranger to find their way into the back region of a society or place, for they can never fully be given true access. It is this I came across while in Dublin this past weekend with my roommate. We stayed at a small, back road hostel a few blocks from O'Connell Street, one of the busiest (read: most commercial) streets of the city. On our first night out, we asked our Irish concierge where to find the best Dublin pubs. He pointed us towards the area of Temple Bar, a cluster of busy bar streets just across the River Liffey. "But," he added just as we were about to turn and go. "Beware of this bar on the first corner, on the left, looks great, looks real authentic, but it's a tourist place,"--the word drips from his mouth, wet with disgusted disdain--"horrible, expensive, full of tourists, and they'll be chargin' ya about 8 euros for a beer when you can get it down the street for 3." We took the advice gratefully, and began the chilly walk to Temple Bar. As we reached the street and turned down its first block, we made sure to steer clear of the first crowded bar, on our left, that we came to (packed with people, painted blaringly green, screaming accordion riffs and Irish guitar clicks) and look for a place further down the street. We finally picked a bar a few blocks down where the drinks were marginally cheaper (maybe 6euros for a beer?) and settled in. Over the course of the night several people stopped by our table and started up discussions, and each time we asked them, "So, where do the real Dubliners go? Show us the real Dublin pubs," trying to sneak in somehow to the back region of the city. And each time they'd respond, "Oh, no idea, I'm not from here." We didn't meet one person that night from Dublin proper, not one who could show us the way around the city, not one who knew the back regions from the front. And then I start to wonder, if the front regions can so easily masquerade as the back ones, if everyone's from somewhere else and no one can tell the difference, what's the real difference from the back regions and the front? Is there any? Or has everything become so "authenticated" it's impossible to know the realness of any place? It is with this question that I travel on, to my next city, to my next adventure, for I believe there must be a way to really know a place. Back or front aside, that's the motive of my own travel. Because we're all strangers somewhere, everywhere, here and there, and that makes us all more alike than we think.