How many of us when reading this week's cover story on travel scams thought, 'that could never happen to me'? We all like to think that we are streetwise enough to see one of these scams coming a mile away, but these con artists enjoy such a big success rate because they prey on tourists when they are at their most vulnerable, often jetlagged, disorientated and struggling to cope with an unfamiliar language and culture, not to mention a whopping great rucksack.
Far from getting more savvy as we travel the world, a recent report from the Foreign Policy Centre shows that the Foreign Office is having to bail out more British tourists than ever before. It seems that the more exotic new destinations that open up to tourists, the more elaborate new scams we are exposed to. Of course, we can minimise risks by reading up on our destination beforehand and using a bit of common sense but it's vital not to let paranoia get the upper hand. I always feel slightly sad when I hear tourists swapping tales of foreign rip-off merchants and congratulating themselves on not being 'taken in'. It's as though the holiday has become a game of 'us against them'. The goal: not to be ripped off at any cost. Even sadder is when this distrust translates into a siege mentality whereby travellers are too scared to leave their hotel. I remember bumping into a group of Canadian ladies staying at a smart all-inclusive hotel in Cuba. When I told them I was getting a taxi into the nearby town of Santiago, their eyes widened. 'We've been told not to leave the hotel unless we go with a guide,' they told us. It seemed a shame to me that their only impression of this friendly and relatively crime-free country would be of the hotel staff.
If we travel with the mentality that Johnny Foreigner is out to make a fast buck out of us (or worse) we risk missing out on the most rewarding experiences of travel. Some of my most memorable moments have happened when I switched off the 'rip-off radar' and took an offer at face value. On that same Cuban holiday we followed two local boys who said they would take us to a great private restaurant.
As they wove through the back streets of Havana my friend had forebodings. 'They are going to murder us in an alleyway, let's turn back,' she urged. I was about to agree when we arrived at a tenement building. As we followed them up a dark, dank stairway my heart sank. But then the door opened on to an immaculate front-room, decked out with antique furniture and lace tablecloths. We feasted on lobster, rice, black beans and cold beer, all for $8 and got a salsa dance lesson thrown in. The boys wouldn't even let us buy them a coke. I remember that meal as one of the highlights of my holiday.
So caution, yes, but in moderation.
