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KLMNO Gulf destinations, trying to salvage the summer
SUNDAY, JUNE 13, 2010
ROGELIO V. SOLIS/ASSOCIATED PRESS
Unoccupied umbrellas and lounges await tourists along the beach in Biloxi, Miss. Tourism officials are fighting the perception that oil has come ashore all along the gulf: “It’s just in spots,” said one. gulf continued from F1
usual, but some think it hints at an incipient brand of oil-inspired tourism. Just as 9/11 and Hurri- cane Katrina attracted waves of volunteer travelers eager to assist the communities affected by those disasters, the gulf could eventually attract its own form of sympathy travel. But the key word is “eventual-
ly.” For the moment, along with the Goings are a whole lot of Nots. After four days of tough conversa- tions with his wife and two sons, Scott Maloney decided to cancel his family’s trip to Orange Beach, Ala. They were set to fly down from Cleveland on June 19, until globs started appearing on the shores, forcing the Alabama De- partment of Public Health to is- sue a swimming advisory. “We really tossed and turned, not wanting to cancel,” said Maloney. “But it’s my only vacation of the year, and I wouldn’t want to jeop- ardize it.” As the oil continues to fan out
like the inky spray of a squid, trav- elers are grappling with a tough decision: visit or cancel. To date, glossy sheens and goopy tar balls have surfaced in parts of Missis- sippi, Alabama, Louisiana and northwest Florida. Depending on the direction of the winds and currents and the arrival of a hur- ricane (it is the season, after all), the oil could drift east to Key West and even spoil the Atlantic. Or it could float west to Texas and Mexico. There are so many un- knowns and uncertainties — not what a traveler desperate for some beachy R&R wants to hear. “Why would you spend money here when you can go to a pristine beach?” asked Abraham Pizam, dean of the University of Central Florida’s Rosen College of Hospi-
tality Management. “Why would you want to just sit at your hotel window and watch the spill?” Before jettisoning your plans,
however, consider a map of the South. At press time, evidence of the spill had appeared only in pockets along the coastline: by the mouth of the Mississippi Riv- er in southeast Louisiana and on the beach of Grand Isle State Park; in Gulf Shores, Orange Beach and Fort Morgan in Ala- bama; and at Pensacola and Perdi- do Key in northwest Florida. “You can walk a mile and not see any, and then you’ll see a batch,” said Ashley Chisholm, spokeswoman for the Pensacola Convention and Visitors Bureau. “It’s just in spots.” Considering the full length of the gulf shoreline — 4,000 miles from the Florida Keys to Cabo Ca- toche in Mexico’s Yucatan — the affected areas amount to a small patch. “A lot of people don’t know the Gulf of Mexico well and think it’s a giant pool of oil,” said Larry Crow- der, director of the Duke Univer- sity Center for Marine Conserva- tion. “Most of the areas in the gulf are safe, and you can still have a great vacation.” To keep visitors abreast of daily
or even hourly changes, tourism boards and travel industry enti- ties are churning out a steady stream of information, including beach closures, health advisories and contact numbers for report- ing tar balls and injured wildlife. For example, at
VisitFlorida.com, the state’s official tourism market- ing corporation has created a “Florida Live” page that features an interactive map dotted with icons for hyper-local Twitter tweets and beach-cam views. On an early evening last week, the image of Pensacola Beach near the Island Empress resort
In touch with the land, and its people
by Mike Ives Beccy and I didn’t feel like in-
gesting opium tea or marijuana pancakes, featured menu items in Vang Vieng, a backpackers’ mecca in northern Laos. We had just ar- rived on a bus from Vientiane, the lovely Laotian capital, and we al- ready wanted out. “Can you take us to Vangvieng Organic Farm?” I asked an idling tuk-tuk driver. He didn’t need directions. Since 1996, Vangvieng Organic Farm has promoted sustainable food systems near a riverside town no- torious for drugs, booze and ine- briated inner-tubing. About two miles upstream on the Nam Song (“Song River”) from Vang Vieng, the farm produces goat cheese, tea and mulberry wine for restau- rants in Vientiane and the UNES- CO World Heritage site Luang Prabang. Farm staffers serve meals and teach organic tech- niques to Laotian farmers and cu- rious travelers. We had come to volunteer for a while. The tuk-tuk (a motorized rick-
shaw) sped north on a bumpy road, the main highway in this poor, landlocked country. Ten minutes later, our driver turned left onto a dirt road and stopped near an outdoor pavilion with bamboo railings. We shouldered our packs and
looked around. Tourists were slurping mulberry milkshakes at picnic tables. Behind them a De- cember breeze blew through a field of baby mulberry trees. A half-moon illuminated the Nam Song and adjacent limestone cliffs. Thanongsi Sorangkoun, the farm’s founder, emerged from the
kitchen and introduced himself as “Mr. T.” We stifled a laugh: The short, nimble 65-year-old looked nothing like the former wrestler who played B.A. Baracus on “The A-Team.” Thanongsi’s floppy green hat and electric-blue boo- ties suggested a birder. “How long will you stay?” he
asked, a little gruffly. “A week or so?” we replied. Mr. T handed us keys to the
Mulberry Tree House. When I asked how we could help, he pointed to a dry-erase board list- ing volunteer chores: mudhouse, ESL, goats, vegetable farm. Then he vanished. The Mulberry Tree House bor- dered a grove of banana trees and hibiscus shrubs. Our $8-per- night room had slanted wood floors and a mosquito net. A creaky window offered views of moonlit mulberry fields. We liked our digs, but we slept restlessly. Beccy, a Sydney social worker, had never visited a farm. My only “agricultural” street cred was three summers of weekend gardening in Vermont. What sort of place, exactly, had I discovered on Google? What was expected of us? And did the enigmatic Mr. T really want our help? We resolved to get our hands
dirty. Our first morning, I dug garden beds and spread compost while Beccy pruned mulberry trees and fed the leaves to goats. The next day, we rose at 6:45 a.m. to milk goats and make cheese. Soon we were tasting the fruits of our labor. A few days after that milking session, we ate the fin- ished cheese with fresh baguettes and homemade mulberry tea. One sunny morning, Beccy helped farmhands and fellow vol- unteers slaughter a pig. That
Nam Bgum Reservoir
LAOS Ban Keun
showed antlike figures, some very pink, swimming in the turquoise water or lazing belly-down in chairs. A boat with a rainbow- colored sail slowly progressed toward the edge of the screen. Guests also post photos of the var- ious beaches around the state, with such “wish you were here” sentiments as, “Quiet morning stroll on Perdido Key. The North- west Florida coast is clear.” “The states are not trying to get you to take a vacation in an un- pleasant place,” said Crowder. “They are trying to differentiate
“A lot of people don’t know the Gulf of Mexico well and think it’s a giant pool of
oil.” — Larry Crowder, director of Duke University’s Center for Marine Conservation
between the areas that are risky and the ones that are safe.” But because of widespread
anxiety over the spill, misguided perceptions are frequently over- shadowing the actualities. Unaf- fected areas are getting clumped with affected ones. In an e-mail, Scott Hinkley,
chief executive of Beach-
house.com, a directory of beach rentals, described a call he re- ceived from a homeowner in Clearwater Beach, Fla.: “He was sitting on his front porch, looking out at oil-free beaches and blue waters. He was amazed that he had started getting calls from va-
cationers wanting to cancel their vacations after hearing on the news that oil was already wash- ing up in the beaches in Clearwa- ter.” To date, no oil has been spot- ted on or near the strand west of Tampa. Steve Uelner, director of World Wide Country Tours in Wiscon- sin, said bookings for the Louisi- ana & Mississippi’s Southern Charm tour, which explores Ca- jun country, have slowed to a trickle. “It’s disheartening to see, because the places we visit are not affected,” he said by e-mail, “and the folks we visit can really use the tourism dollars.” USA River Cruises agent Cindy Anderson said she has handled about 20 cancellations or rebook- ings of late, including a family of five who opted out of a July 4 trip to (inland!) Orlando. They will head to San Diego and Disney- land instead. The company’s cruise schedule, however, re- mains intact: For the summer, the firm had wisely sent its boats north — pre-spill. (The major cruise lines are sticking to their regular routes and continue to depart from ports in Florida; Galveston, Tex.; Mobile, Ala.; and New Orleans. “We’ve seen no changes in itiner- aries, and our ships are able to maneuver around the problem, but we’re continuing to monitor the situation with the states as well as the Coast Guard,” said La- nie Fagan, a spokeswoman for the Cruise Lines International Asso- ciation.) The Mississippi Gulf Coast area, which includes Biloxi and Gulfport, has suffered only minor incidents, but no recreational areas have been closed. However, local tourism officials say that restaurant sales are down 15 per- cent and beachfront hotels are re-
porting a cancellation rate of 50 percent. “We are being painted with the same brush as Louisiana, Ala- bama and Florida,” said Richard Forester, executive director of the Mississippi Gulf Coast Conven- tion and Visitors Bureau. “But if you want a great value at a desti- nation, now’s the time.” The Knowland Group, a data
firm in Salisbury, Md., surveyed 50 hotels in the gulf region. Ac- cording to the results from June 2-3, 60 percent of hotels said groups had canceled because of the disaster, up 25 percentage points from the initial survey on May 3-4. “Most of the hotels are gravely concerned,” said commu- nications manager Megan Tate. “They’ll be feeling the pain for months or years.” To attract visitors, travel sup- pliers are unveiling a host of in- centives and specials. Many ho- tels, for instance, have loosened their cancellation policies; San- destin, for one, shortened its sev- en-day advance notice to 24 hours. Others provide an “oil-free guarantee”: Sterling Resorts, with properties along the Mississippi and northwest Florida coasts, of- fers guests a refund or the option to reschedule if the beaches are closed during their stay.
VisitFlorida.com’s site lists
“hot deals” such as free nights and resort credits. On the Missis- sippi Gulf Coast, you can book two nights and receive a $75 gas card. (“It’s not BP,” quipped For- ester.) Alabama Beach Vacation Rentals owner Erik Nist, who has received 193 cancellations since April, is discounting his rates by 15 percent through June and 10 percent in July and August. “I can’t fault someone from
Colorado for not coming if they can’t get in the water,” said Nist,
who lists rentals on Gulf Shores, Orange Beach and Fort Morgan. “The air is fresh, and it looks like they cleaned things up. If they lift the water advisory, it’ll be back to ‘C’mon down.’ ” Yet a bargain room does not al- ter the possibility that you could end up swimming in an oil slick or stepping in ooze during a sun- set stroll. “This is not something where you can lower the price and say, ‘We’re open for business,’ ” said Donna Quadri-Felitti, assistant clinical professor at New York University’s Preston Robert Tisch Center for Hospitality, Tourism, and Sports Management. “If you can’t go in the water, it doesn’t matter if the room is cheap.” In the aftermath of other re- cent disasters, such as Hurricane Katrina and the Haiti earthquake, traditional tourism gave way to voluntourism. At this point, most of the organizations assisting with oil spill damage are request- ing trained volunteers. But for those without hazmat expertise or wildlife aid experience, an- other subset of travel is surfacing. Pizam, the Central Florida college dean, calls it “sympathy travel”; Quadri-Felitti prefers a name with more spirit. “Solidarity trav- el is something that we’ll see hap- pen,” she said, “because Amer- icans respond with big hearts to places that are so special.” Leading the pack are such visi- tors as Mayor Kennington, who washed that oil right out of his va- cation, and Morris, a soldier ready to do battle armed with sunscreen and an inner tube. “This might be the most re- warding vacation you’ve ever had,” he said. “If in some small way I can do my part, I’m going to.”
sachsa@washpost.com
CHINA BURMA Rangoon Hanoi LAOS Detail Vientiane THAILAND Bangkok CAMBODIA
Gulf of Thailand
Ban Phatang
Phnom Penh
0 MILES Vang Vieng 0 MILES 20 200
South China Sea
Vientiane THAILAND Tha Bo Nong Khai MIKE IVES GENE THORP/THE WASHINGTON POST The Mulberry Tree House at Vangvieng Organic Farm, the longest-running agritourism business in Laos.
night I ate barbecue pork with handfuls of sticky rice and splashes of Beerlao. (Beccy, who keeps kosher, chose tofu.) Time began to warp in a pleas-
ant way. Mr. T and his employees seemed to welcome the help we offered, so we started weeding lettuce and washing dishes. Sometimes we joined his farm- hands for Laotian-style lunch: squash, sticky rice, salted fish and hot sauce. Most evenings we sat in the on-site restaurant, schmoozing with fellow volun- teers over vegetable curries, goat cheese platters and glasses of sweet mulberry wine. The volunteers were a motley
crew. A 20-something Swiss woman liked to plant seedlings. An older couple from Calgary, Al- berta, back for a third visit, was
teaching English to local kids. Other volunteers, including Kim Po and Nathaniel Wolf, were put- ting final touches on a volunteer- built “mud-brick” house. “It’s like summer camp for
adults,” Wolf said over breakfast one morning. “After traveling so long without outputting, it’s nice to use that part of your brain you don’t use when you’re looking for restaurants and hotel rooms.” Wolf and Po, both 29, used to volunteer at a community-sup- ported agriculture farm near San Francisco, but they worked full time and couldn’t commit to long-term projects. Now they are traveling the world, living cheap- ly and studying green building and sustainable living. At the mud-brick house, Wolf rigged an electrical system and
built a geodesic lamp; Po made a bamboo wind chime and helped lay a bathroom mosaic. Villagers taught volunteers how to make mud bricks. Mr. T offered occa- sional pointers. By the time Wolf and Po took off, the house was al- most done, and the week they’d planned to stay had morphed into two. “A small, locally run organic farm that’s open to tourism is such a good model,” said Steven Schipani, a Laos-based develop- ment consultant who advised a 2009 tourism study of Vangvieng. In a phone interview, Schipani told me that Mr. T’s organic farm is the longest-running and most successful agritourism operation in Laos. “He adds value to local prod- ucts and promotes healthy living,
and international visitors learn from indigenous knowledge,” Schipani said. “It’s a wholesome tourism operation that anyone can enjoy.”
Thanongsi Sorangkoun was born in 1944 to Vang Vieng farm- ers. Laos was still a French colo- ny, and the village was surround- ed by dense jungle. When Mr. T was 4, his family moved to Vien- tiane, where his mother and sis- ter earned money spinning silk. Laos was granted full independ- ence in 1954. As a child, Mr. T saw American planes flying overhead; his parents were fighting “pro- American” forces. In 1962, Com- munist Party officials sent him to
laos continued on F5
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