Jamaica Kincaid’s “The Ugly Tourist” originally appeared in the magazine Harper’s in In this essay Kincaid successfully conveys her. Throughout the essay, Kincaid uses incredibly long sentences. It creates a strange rhythm, but has an affect. She uses this technique to give a. This essay is about the obliviousness of the tourists, conversely compared to envious natives. Through long, rhythmic sentences, Kincaid.
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The thing you have always suspected about yourself the minute you become a tourist is true: A tourist is an ugly human being. You are not an ugly person all the time; you uly not an ugly person ordinarily; you are not an ugly person day to day. From day to day, you are a nice person.
The ugly tourist | Harper’s Magazine
From day to day, all the people who are supposed to love you on the whole do. From day to day, as you walk kinciad a busy street in the large and modern and prosperous city in which you work and live, dismayed, puzzled a jamaicx, but only a cliche can explain you tourkst how alone you feel in this crowd, how awful it is to go unnoticed, how awful it is to go unloved, even as you are surrounded by more people than you kjncaid possibly get to know in a lifetime that lasted for millenia, and then out of the corner of your eye you see someone looking at you and absolute pleasure is written all over that person’s face, and then you realize that you are not as revolting a presence as you think you are for that look just told you so.
And so, ordinarily, you are a nice person, an attractive person, a person capable of drawing to yourself the affection of other people people just like youa person at home in your own skin sort of; Mamaica mean in a way; I mean, your dismay and puzzlement are jamacia to you, because people like you just seem to be like that. But one day, when you are sitting somewhere, alone in that crowd, and that awful feeling of displacedness comes over you, and really, as an ordinary person you are rourist well equipped to look too far inward and set yourself aright, because being ordinary is already so taxing, and being ordinary takes all you ahve out of you, and though the words “I must get away” do not actually pass across your lips, you make a leap from being that nice blob just sitting like a boob in your amniotic sac of the modern experience to being a person visiting heaps of death and ruin and feeling alive and inspired at the sight of it.
And you look at the things they can do with a piece of cloth, the things they fashion out of cheap, vulgarly colored to you twine, the way they squat down over a hole they have made in the ground, the hole itself is something to marvel at, and since you are being an ugly person this ugly but joyful thought will swell inside you: An ugly thing, that is what you are when you become a tourist, an ugly, empty thing, a stupid thing, a piece of rubbish pausing here and there to gaze at this and taste that, and it will never occur to you that the people who inhabit the place in which you have just passed cannot stand you, that behind their closed doors they laugh at your strangeness you do not look the way they look ; the physical sight of you does not please them; you have bad manners it is their custom to eat their food with their hands; you try eating their way, you look silly; you try eating the way you always eat, you look silly ; they do not like the way you speak you have an accent ; they collapse helpless from laughter, mimicking the way they imagine you must look as you carry out some everyday bodily function.
They do not like you. They do not like me!
The Ugly Tourist by grace leeth on Prezi
That thought never actually occurs to you. Still you feel a little uneasy. Still, you feel a little foolish. Still, you feel a little out of place.
But the banality of your own life is very real to you; it drove you to this extreme, spending your days and your nights in the company of people who despise you, people you do not like really, people you would not want to have as your actual neighbor.
And so you must devote yourself to puzzling tourisg how much of what you are told is really, really true Is ground-up bottle jamsica in peanut sauce really a delicacy around here, or will it do just what you think ground-up bottle glass will do? Is this rare, multicoloured, snout-mouthed fish really an aphrodesiac, or will it cause you to fall asleep permanently?.
Oh, the hard work all of this is, and is it any wonder, then, that on your return home you feel the need of a long rest, so that you can recover from your life as a tourist? That the native does not like the tourist is not hard kinncaid explain.
My response to Jamaica Kincaid , “The Ugly Tourist”
For every native of every place is a potential tourist, and every tourist is a native of somewhere. Every native everywhere lives a life of overwhelming and crushing banality and boredom and desperation and depression, and every deed, good and bad, is an attempt to forget this.
Every native would like to find a way out, every native would like a rest, every native would like a tour.
But some natives–most natives in the world–cannot go anywhere. They are too poor.
They are too poor to go anywhere. They are too poor to escape the reality of their lives; and they are too poor to live properly in the place where they live, which is the very place you, the tourist, want to go–so when the natives see you, the tourist, they envy you, they envy your ability to leave your own banality and boredom, they envy your ability to turn their own banality and boredom into a source of pleasure for yourself.