Tourism in the age of terrorism

I don’t suppose I should admit this, but I was aware that terrorist attacks in India were becoming more frequent. I read about the September 13th bombings in Delhi and, realizing at least one of the bombsites was about 10 km from our hotel, I quickly recycled the newspaper so that David wouldn’t see it. The tickets were bought; there was no sense in worrying about it. So, I wasn’t surprised to hear that Mumbai had been attacked. However, I was unprepared for the apparent change in tactics. You can rationalize away a bomb in a market pretty easily, after all it’s a big city and—no lie—many of these bombs are attached to bikes. And, heck, we’d just been in Israel, where a market we visited was attacked a week later. But a small bomb at a discreet place is a world away from young men driving around shooting people indiscriminately; a hostage situation is a different order of magnitude. An adjustment is in order.

But how do we integrate this into our experience here? We’re due in Mumbai in six days. Should we skip it? By the time we get there a week from now, things will be on their way to being cleaned up. Security will be tighter or at least showier in the classic horse/barn door way that governments (including our own) have of reacting to these kinds of situations. As a New Yorker, I remember the sense of abandonment after 9/11 and I want to stand in solidarity with the people of Mumbai, but I also remember the deep shock and mourning and how much I resented tourists braying about their visit to ground zero on the subway. Historically, right after an attack is the safest time to go anywhere but would it be too ghoulish to attempt to have fun? What right do I have to put my children in the middle of Pakistan’s war by proxy on India, any more than I already have? Will we end up sitting around our hotel room being too afraid or depressed to go out?

Meanwhile, our Indian travel agent and our guide are insisting that this happens all the time in India and that there’s nothing to be concerned about. This is a combination of protecting their profit margin and genuine cross-cultural miscommunication. The Indians we’ve spoken to in Delhi have all shrugged it off with the exception of the concierge here at The Imperial. The Imperial, of course, is an Oberoi hotel largely patronized by westerners. They began searching all the cars before entering the driveway and installed a metal detector over the weekend. The truth is that this attack is not like all the others, and our agent’s attitude is going over very badly with David. (Now, watching people talk down to the usually very affable David Markus is one of my favorite spectator sports because they have no idea how swiftly and forcefully they are going to get their asses handed to them.) This makes us a little bit inclined to change plans just because when someone flat out lies to you, it’s hard to trust their assessment of the situation.

So after three days of agonizing we’re blowing off Mumbai and going to the beach in Goa. The cities are hard on the kids without the added tension of going on the heels of a major attack. I’m sad to miss it and I feel a little bit like a coward. I was looking forward to the restaurants, the shopping and the urban vibe. But in the end, it’s really hard to ignore the advice of your embassy and the metal detector marring the entrance to one of the most beautiful hotels you’ve ever stayed in.