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Apologies in advance for yet another airplane-related Applause, but as regular readers will know, I missed last week’s newsletter owing to delays in my return from a travel junket to French Lick, Ind. (jealous?).
We are lucky enough at the Free Press to still have a stand-alone travel section and, on occasion, we are invited to visit locations — some luxurious, some less so — to write about them for our readers. (This week, for instance, Nadya Pankiw travelled to Blacksburg, Va.: you can read about her adventures in picturesque small-town Virginia here.)
Over the years, I’ve gone on assignment everywhere from Fiji to Fredericksburg, Texas (coincidentally also highlighted in this week’s Travel pages), and enjoyed everything from a marathon in Mo’orea to Greenlandic hospitality in Kangaamuit.
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Not to toot my own horn, but I’ve even picked up a couple of travel-writing awards along the way.
Long story short, I like writing about destinations of every stripe, and I like reading about them too. So while sitting aboard my flight to Atlanta last week, I picked up the WestJet Vacations magazine from the seatback to peruse it.
Over the years, I’ve found some decent recommendations in these articles, which had previously appeared to be written by people with a passion for discovery and an eye for the unique.
Now, however, I’m almost positive they are penned by AI. The lack of any bylines was the first clue; the second was the jumbled, terminally banal copy, all clichés and buzzwords, signifying nothing.
I honestly cannot remember any of the specific destinations that were covered, as they all blended together in a wash of turquoise seas, sandy beaches, world-class dining and five-star accommodations. Superlatives were repeated multiple times in five-paragraph descriptions and almost nothing specific — a particular snorkel location, a can’t-miss restaurant — was mentioned.
The only one that stood out was Las Vegas (did you know this desert city has a great nightlife — who needs the actual names of venues or hotels? — and also plays host to an on-the-rise theatre troupe called Cirque du Soleil?), and that’s mostly because the blurb included several sentences that made me paraphrase The Princess Bride’s Inigo Montoya and say to myself, “I do not think that word means what you think it means.” (Cirque apparently has “illustrious” sets.)
It’s true that travel writing can sometimes skirt perilously close to the edge of advertorial; we tend to focus on the positives and gloss over the downsides. But whether you’re an armchair tourist on a boots-on-the-ground immersive type, you want first-hand knowledge of a place, even if it’s just the highlights.
AI can’t point you to the best conch fritters or friendliest bartenders. It can’t hear the roosters that wake you up at 3 a.m. in Vieques, or convey the taste of raw seal liver. It can’t get naked in a Turkish hammam or ride a camel named Steve in Morocco. It can’t even tell you where the most convenient free Wi-Fi is. It’s a promotional brochure — a bland and lifeless simulacrum of real experiences.
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