I visited Mexico City for the first time this year, but it felt like returning to a place I’d already been to. Not because I’ve been to other parts of the country before. Not because of the comforting tug of a place that just feels like home. But because I’d already become so familiar with it through social media. Through hours of other people’s videos and recommendations, seeing a place through the eyes of someone else. It was a surreal recognition, a feeling of déjà vu from a long forgotten dream.
I have a nagging, cynical fear that in the age of social media nothing will come as a surprise anymore. Traveling is just a checklist of all the places you saved on Google maps, found only because the algorithm suggested them to you based on data points that may or may not be true. My own algorithm, like a personal assistant vying for a promotion, knew that my trip was getting closer. I clicked on one reel of a Mexico City recommendation and my entire feed was flooded with posts suggesting this restaurant or that museum.
And I completely admit to playing a role in this cycle. I was intrigued. I manically clicked and saved. Everything looked like something I would like. I used to watch hour-long episodes on the Travel Channel, now I watched 15 second clips that gave me nothing but everything all at once and only left me wanting more.
For a place as popular as Mexico City, with its proximity to the United States and the fame of its art and food scene, it comes as no surprise that there would be an overflow of content. I’m only using Mexico City as an example, but this is the case for so many places. Tokyo, Bali, Lisbon. Just type in the name of any destination and your feed will be plagued with more recommendations than you’ll have time to physically visit.
When I backpacked Asia in 2016, social media was just starting to take off. There were the early travel influencers who popularized certain “Insta-famous” photo spots. But it was nothing like the content overload it is today. I remember the freedom of arriving in a new town and asking a fellow traveler or the host at the front desk of the hostel for their favorite recommendations. It was deliberate and unplanned and I almost always had a memorable time. I met travelers who carried a crinkled copy of the Lonely Planet, dog-eared and marked with highlights. Now, our content moves too fast to be printed.
While I love how much of the world has opened up to us in the palm of our hands, it also feels like a shrinkage. Like we’re all visiting the same spots and no one is discovering anything new just because it wasn’t aesthetically worthy to post about. There is a heavy reliance on reviews and social proof that some place is worth our time and money. And I get it. Our vacations are limited, and we want to make sure it’s spent at the supposedly “best” places. But in doing so, aren’t we missing out on something else? The unknown, the potential, the spontaneity. A non-prescriptive way of traveling guided simply by coincidence and instinct.
Of course I want to try the award-winning, world-renowned, well-reviewed places. They’re acclaimed for a reason. But I also want to leave room for serendipity. If I wanted a trip that was 100% mapped-out, with a bulletproof itinerary and reservations for every meal, I would join a tour group. What I want is to still be surprised, to still feel like I’m discovering something with my own eyes.
Actually standing in the dusty streets of Mexico City, feeling the greasy heat wafting from the al pastor stand, hearing all the little noises that sound slightly different from those back home (birds, drunken men shouting in Spanish, an ambulance siren), I felt like my digital self and my physical self were converging. All that I had expected Mexico City to be from social media finally took shape and pulsed with life. An HD video in 5D existence, with all the sensory downloads that could only be felt physically. The POV was real and not through someone else’s eyes. Here, at last, was an experience that cannot be captured through pixels.
