All Expenses Paid - the ethical swamp of travel writing

Washington Monthly, July, 1999 by Elizabeth Austin

Exploring the ethical swamp of travel writing

I am standing stark naked in a lush Balinese ricefield. Warm water from a sacred hot spring is spilling over my shoulders and dripping down my sunbaked back. After the sacred waters complete their healing work, a deferential driver in a crisp uniform will whisk me back to my private villa in one of the most luxurious resorts in the world, where a trained masseuse is waiting to knead my travel-weary muscles, scour my skin with exotic grains, slather me all over with yogurt, and lead me to a warm, deep bath scented with fresh frangipangi blossoms. Later, I'll enjoy a gourmet dinner and carefully selected wines at the hotel's world-renowned restaurant, while gently insistent gamelan music tinkles in the background. Finally, after a refreshing dip in my villas private plunge pool, I'll draw the billowing mosquito netting around my wide bed and dream of another day in paradise. And it's not going to cost me one thin dime.

I was a travel whore. This is my story.

Like so many other good girls gone bad, I could try to excuse myself by arguing that everybody does it. Unbeknownst to readers, an astonishing number of travel articles are based on press junkets and complimentary travel and lodgings; although a few magazines and newspapers refuse all free travel, some of their reporters have been known to wheedle free upgrades and price reductions that might not be offered to their readers.

But, at the risk of self-justification, I'm not sure press trips are quite the crooked little racket that some journalism critics would have you believe. Obviously, an investigative reporter who regularly skimmed a cool $10,000 in goods and services from her sources would lose all her credibility--and her job. But in the world of travel journalism, the lines aren't so clearly drawn. Almost all travel stories tend to wax lyrical about the awesome views, crisp bedlinens and piquant cuisine, no matter who's footing the bill. Travel writers know they're generally expected to accentuate the positive. The real ethical problems in travel junkets are murkier than they seem, because it's never quite clear who's giving what to whom, how much it really costs, and precisely what quid they're expecting for their quo.

I Used to be a Nice Girl Too

Back in my spotless girlhood, I would never have considered accepting an all-expense-paid press trip. Although I've been a part-time travel writer for nearly 15 years, most of my work was published in a magazine that forbids its writers to accept any freebies from airlines, hotels, restaurants, or tourism boards. So I adopted a tone of haughty disdain when publicists offered to whisk me off to Scandinavia for midsum-mernight or tour me through romantic castles on the west coast of Ireland. "I'm not that kind of girl," I insisted primly. And if occasionally other publications sent me off on trips that had a whiff of junket about them, I simply didn't inquire too closely. The financial arrangements were my editor's problem; I was just there to get the facts, write my story, and serve the public weal.

Then I got an offer I couldn't refuse. In my own defense, let me say that I was in an extremely vulnerable state. A broken heart had left me wandering under a cloud so dense I could use it for sunscreen. Nothing seemed to lighten my mood--until I came home and found a message from an editor at a new women's magazine: "Would you like to go to Bali?"

I knew I should say no, but I could feel my principles melting. The closest I'd ever been to the tropics was the Enchanted Tiki Room at Disney World. So after about 22 seconds of intense internal debate, I picked up the phone and traded away all my journalistic integrity for a free trip to the Island of the Gods.

The trip was organized by a Los Angeles-based public relations firm, employed by a deluxe hotel chain to introduce the traveling public to its fancy new properties. Certainly, the hotel could accomplish that goal with a massive advertising blitz. However, that's a pricey option; a single full-page ad in Conde Nast Traveler magazine reportedly costs a whopping $50,000. And an ad lacks the credibility of a seasoned travel writer swooning over a resort's breathtaking setting and lavish amenities. So a hotel definitely gets its money's worth when it lays out a mere $100 in actual cash per person per day to show a band of dusty scribes a good time.

When our group--seven women writers and our publicist/escort--arrived at the airport, we quickly learned that some travel whores are more equal than others. Two of the women were junior-level editors at major women's magazines, which often dole out these excursions as no-cost perks to the small fry (who may not even be asked to write about their trips). However, the publicist's clients don't know that, so they're delighted to meet representatives from such prestigious media outlets. Our publicist was so desperate to snare staffers from the big New York magazines that she paid for their flights from New York to Los Angeles. The rest of us, mostly freelance writers from lowlier magazines, had to wheedle airfare from our editors or pay for the first leg of the trip ourselves.