Architecture and Tourism. Identify Trends and Elaborate Their Profitability

EKO NURSANTY

ARCHITECTURE and TOURISM Identify Trends and Elaborate Their Profitability

Eko Nursanty

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ARCHITECTURE AND TOURISM Identify Trends and Elaborate Their Profitability Copyright © 2012 Eko Nursanty All rights reserved.

Print and Publish by,CREATE SPACE 7290 B. Investment Drive, Charleston, SC 29418 USA.

ISBN: 1466360429 ISBN-13: 978-1466360426

DEDICATION This book dedicated to :  Center of Study Architecture and Tourism

Department of Architecture

University of 17 Agustus 1945 (UNTAG) Semarang, Indonesia 

Faculty of Engineering University of 17 Agustus 1945 (UNTAG) Semarang, Indonesia Thanks to all our contributors :  Gunawan Hendro Cahyono, the photographer.  Yuyun Fhanani, the cover fotographer.  My father Sofwan, My mom Nurlaila and my daughter Archita that supported me forever.  Mr. Wijaya, Rector of UNTAG Semarang, Indonesia  Mr. Rudjito. Dean of Engineering Faculty UNTAG Semarang, Indonesia  Mr. Anwar. The headmaster of Department of Architecture UNTAG Semarang.  Mrs. Retno. Partner in research process.

CONTENTS Title

Pg

Dedication

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1 Architecture And Tourism

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2 Architecture In Tourism

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3 Architecture Support Tourism

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4 Architecture in Building Tourism

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5 Architecture part of City Tourism

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6 Architecture and Rural Tourism

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7 Architecture for Attract Visitors

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8 Architecture for Culture and Tourism 80

LIST OF FIGURE Figure 1: Architectural tourism means going to a travel destination to see historical monuments and architecture in Beijing, China. (Gunawan, 2010). _________________________________________________________________________________ 1 Figure 2: Architecture is simultaneously a site, event and sign in Brunei Darussalam (Nursanty E, 20011). ________________ 2 Figure 3: Notion of seeing or reading the landscape and interpreting its meaning in Pulau Ubin, Singapore. _______________ 3 Figure 4: Modern industrial city of Bilbao on the Bay of Biscay Spain's Basque territory. Source: (LPI Program, 2003) _______ 4 Figure 5: Poble Espanyol. Source: (Mudunuri, 2007) ___________________________________________________________ 5 Figure 6: Sugar Beach Resort, Mauritius. Source: (Midgley, 2010) _________________________________________________ 6 Figure 7: Themed spaces can be considered to be particular kinds of stages in Genting Highland, Malaysia. _______________ 7 Figure 8: A single building in a provincial locale could so capture the popular imagination globally and locally, high brow and low in Singapore Merlion Park. ____________________________________________________________________________ 8 Figure 9: Guggenheim Bilbao Museum, Bilbao, Spain.Source: (Fhong, 2004) ________________________________________ 9 Figure 10: Scenic view from Table bay vintage, Cape Town, South Africa 1890s.Source: (Guenette) ____________________ 10 Figure 11: Aerial view of the Pyramids of Giza, Egypt, from a Zeppelin, 1931 (1933).Source: (heritage Images) ___________ 11 Figure 12: Belle Vue, Greater Manchester. Source :(Wikipedia contributors, 2010) __________________________________ 13 Figure 13: The Crystal Palace. Source: (Wikipedia contributors, 2011) ____________________________________________ 14 Figure 14: Festival of the Empire was held at The Crystal Palace,London 12 May 1911.Source: (Wikipedia contributors, 2011) 15 Figure 15: Beach huts in Belgium. Source: (Ryckaert, 2009) _____________________________________________________ 16 Figure 16: Beach huts in Essex England. Source: (Smart) _______________________________________________________ 17 Figure 17: The Lake District, as The Lakes or Lakeland, in North West England. Source: (Diliff, 2009) ____________________ 19 Figure 18: City Branding of Tugu Muda in Semarang, Indonesia. _________________________________________________ 20 Figure 19: The importance of the adjective ‘cultural’ in cultural identity, Javanese Village in Semarang, Indonesia. ________ 26 Figure 20: Dubai, United Arab Emirates. Source: (Sheikh, 2006) _________________________________________________ 29 Figure 21: Dubai International airport. Source: (Hellier, 2010) ___________________________________________________ 31 Figure 22: Anara Tower in Dubai. __________________________________________________________________________ 32 Figure 23: Madelon Vriesendorp’s metaphorical analysis of the critical reactions to Frank Gehry’s _____________________ 35 Figure 24: Bennelong Point is flanked by Sydney Cove, Farm Cove and Macquarie Street. _____________________________ 37 Figure 25: The shell structures cover nearly two hectares and the whole site. Source: (Commonwealth of Australia, 2006) __ 38 Figure 26: Heritage Tourism in Semarang, Indonesia. _________________________________________________________ 39 Figure 27: Heritage Tourism in Penang, Malaysia. ____________________________________________________________ 40 Figure 28: Tourism Assets in A Conceptual Space. Source: (Nurick, 2000) __________________________________________ 46 Figure 29: The four key issues facing. Source: (Nurick, 2000) ____________________________________________________ 47 Figure 30: Landscape is a way in which to conceive of place. ____________________________________________________ 50 Figure 31: Theoretical Synthesis of Landscape, Place and Identity. Source: (Huff, 2008) ______________________________ 51

EKO NURSANTY Figure 32: City as tourist place in Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam. _______________________________________________________ 52 Figure 33: 'The Pilgrims' Way started in Rome, European religious sites in Canterbury,25th May 1997. Source:(Culham College Institute 1997-9) _______________________________________________________________________________________ 53 Figure 34: The Pilgrimage to Canterbury. 1809-17. ____________________________________________________________ 54 Figure 35: The city as a significant setting for tourist activity. ____________________________________________________ 55 Figure 36: Tourist Place in The Peak, Hongkong. ______________________________________________________________ 56 Figure 37: Tourism business district in Macau. ________________________________________________________________ 57 Figure 38: Hongkong Disneyland is one such precinct type.______________________________________________________ 58 Figure 39: The Latin Quarter of Paris is an area in the 5th and parts of the 6th arrondissement of Paris. _________________ 59 Figure 40: Darling Harbour is a locality of the city centre of Sydney, Australia. ______________________________________ 59 Figure 41: The Rocks Tourist Precinct, Sydney, Australia. Source: (Visual Photo) ____________________________________ 60 Figure 42: Darling Harbour, Sydney. Source: (prabhasmyhero, 2005) ______________________________________________ 62 Figure 43: Rural Tourism in Krabi, Thailand. __________________________________________________________________ 63 Figure 44: Rural Tourism at Moeslem Village, Krabi - Thailand. __________________________________________________ 65 Figure 45: Making batik in Batik Village, Semarang - Indonesia.__________________________________________________ 66 Figure 46: Local food in Thailand Rural Tourism in Phuket. ______________________________________________________ 70 Figure 47: The outside of the Guggenheim Bilbao is much more impressive than its interior. ___________________________ 73 Figure 48: Guggenheim Museum-Bilbao, Spain. (MykReeve, 2005) _______________________________________________ 74 Figure 49: Carlo Felice Teather. (Papalini, 2009) ______________________________________________________________ 75 Figure 50: Oriente Station – Lisboa (Joao.pimentel.ferreira, 2011) _______________________________________________ 75 Figure 51: City of Arts and Sciences Museum and Planetarium. (Diliff, 2007) _______________________________________ 76 Figure 52: Lingotto Building. (Traveler100, 2008) _____________________________________________________________ 76 Figure 53: Auditorio, Santa Cruz, Tenerife. (Wladyslaw, 2007) ___________________________________________________ 77 Figure 54: Framework to classify places and their cultural product. (European Travel Commission, 2005) ________________ 78 Figure 55: Culture and tourism at Angkor Wat, Siem Rep, Cambodia. _____________________________________________ 80 Figure 56:Spending by holiday type per trip. _________________________________________________________________ 82 Figure 57: The characteristics of heritage tourism, cultural tourism and creative ____________________________________ 84

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Architectural tourism means going to a travel destination to see historical monuments and architecture.

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Definition

ourism is travel for recreational, leisure or business purposes. The World Tourism Organization defines tourists as people "traveling to and staying in places outside their usual environment for not more than one consecutive year for leisure, business and other purposes". (Wikipedia contributors, 2011)Architecture is both the process and product of planning, designing and construction. Architectural works, in the material form of buildings, are often perceived as cultural and political symbols and as works of art. Historical civilizations are often identified with their surviving architectural achievements. In relation to buildings, architecture has to do with the planning, designing and constructing form, space and ambience that reflect functional, technical, social, environmental, and aesthetic considerations. It requires the creative manipulation and coordination of material, technology, light and shadow. (Wikipedia contributors, 2011).

Figure 1: Architectural tourism means going to a travel destination to see historical monuments and architecture in Beijing, China. (Gunawan, 2010).

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EKO NURSANTY Architectural Tourism The term architectural tourism means going to a travel destination to see historical monuments and architecture. Most people go to a vacation or a travel destination in search of relaxation, do some sight-seeing, maybe some shopping and generally have a good time. Most sight-seeing tours include going to some monuments and buildings which have historical importance or is visually stunning. This gives an opportunity to look and examine these buildings and architectural masterpiece up close and have a better look at these buildings that we had only gazed at in magazines and television. The culture and history of a place can be traced through the kind of architecture it had. So when a vacation is taken solely to look at these historical monuments and study different architectural styles, it is called architectural tourism. Figure 2: Architecture is simultaneously a site, event and sign in Architectural tourism is very big today and many countries Brunei Darussalam (Nursanty E, 20011). are promoting this form of tourism. Here we are going to discuss architectural travel and tourism. (Bhuyan, 2011). Today, tourism is among the world‘s largest industries. Millions of tourists traipse around the globe, visiting sites, taking photographs, reading guidebooks, straining to listen to tour guides and purchasing postcards and souvenirs. The past two centuries have witnessed an increase in the co modification of tourist sites across the world. Everything from historic monuments to exotic holiday destinations have been redesigned and packaged for mass consumption via various venues of mass media, scholarship and popular myth. As a result, the histories of specific structures, spaces and sites have been re conceptualized. Some have been preserved and celebrated, whereas others are left to decay. In this process of amplification and suppression, buildings, cities and entire countries have been remapped by tourism initiatives to serve political, cultural, economic and scholarly goals. (Lasansky & McLaren, 2004) It has been suggested by architect and theorist Aldo Rossi (Rossi, 1982) among others, that architecture is simultaneously a site, event and sign. It is both the structure in the traditional sense of the word, as well as the way in which that structure is deployed. Inherent to this definition is the process of mediation. In this collection of essays, buildings and spaces are understood as a set of activities, products and attitudes that complement and complete both the design and meaning of specific sites. Architecture is thought of as a process of reception, representation, use, spectacularization and commodification as meaning is mediated by the rhetorical strategies of diverse media and performance. By situating architectural historians and architects at the center of an interdisciplinary discussion of ―Architourism: Architecture as a Destination for Tourism,‖ Ockman‘s symposium provided the opportunity to explore themes recurrent in tourism practices. Thus, it is important to note that while the present volume is an attempt to address the apparent lacuna in the history of architecture concerning the relationship between tourism and built space, it is

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and TOURISM Identify Trends and Elaborate Their Profitability

simultaneously a part of a rich body of emerging contemporary scholarship examining this connection. (Coleman & Crang, 2002) and (Crouch & Lübbren, 2003).

Theory of Tourism In Urry‘s conceptualization, Foucault‘s doctor is replaced by the tour guide who directs the gaze of the tourists and tells them how to interpret a given sight, while the patients are replaced by the inhabitants and sights of the host country. In this manner of thinking, tourists go forth looking for the unique, distinct, and unusual—somewhere exotic, maybe erotic, but certainly someplace that offers an atmosphere different from that to which they are accustomed (Urry 1992b). Like doctors watching mad men, tourists desire to gaze at places and especially people who are very different from themselves (Urry 1992a). The visual display of people, places, and things makes them forms of ―spectacle‖ and tourism involves the ―spectaclization of place‖ (Urry 1992a, 5). The starting point for a theory of tourism is the notion of seeing or reading the landscape and interpreting its meaning. Tourism should generally be understood as a discourse among three sets of actors: 1) tourists; 2) locals; and 3) intermediaries, including government ministries, travel agents, and tourism promotion boards (Nash 1996). This suggests that if tourism is spectacle, then surely there are multiple parties involved in the creation of this spectacle (Squire 1994). It would be argue that because landscapes must be read, they are open to multiple interpretations—they are heterotopic. This is the case because ―our experience of any landscape through the senses is inseparable from the social and psychological context of the experience‖ (Sopher 1979, 138). However, while personal reaction to events and texts are not privileged, societal institutions and structures do introduce a certain commonality or concordance to personal meaning. Meaning and knowledge derived by this process cannot be separated from the process of its creation. That is to say, the meaning of landscape, like all meaning, is created, recreated, and contested in social process (Mitchell 2001). Simply put, objectivity in landscape study does not and cannot exist. ―Every space is interpreted differently by the different actors in it. The interpretation of space (and place) is based on subjective readings‖ (Davis 2001, 12930). Indeed, it is the case that a single landscape cannot be the same for any two individuals because each has had a Figure 3: Notion of seeing or reading the landscape and interpreting its different interaction with the landscape, thus their meaning in Pulau Ubin, Singapore. knowledge of the landscape differs. However, while the subjectivity of reading is complete, meaning does not fracture totally. To those commonly socialized by family, culture, and history, there are certain similarities in readings—there are congruencies and concordances. These unspoken institutionalized understandings, when entered into discourse, are then shaped, refined,

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EKO NURSANTY and distilled by the inevitable power relations that are party to all human interaction. In this way, meaning in the landscape is just another example of what Foucault characterizes as power/knowledge. We do not mean to suggest that any landscape has universal meaning, or even that two individuals will be totally in agreement on the meaning of landscape. Rather, we mean to suggest that there is at least a grain of commonality or concordance in the readings of a great many landscapes and that discourse has a role in the attempt to further homogenize meaning. It is this concordance of meaning that tourism presupposes and relies upon (Lutz and Collins 1993).

Some Cases in History For both national and foreign tourists, a stage set within which to enact narratives of travel, citizenship, identification and difference. Almost cinematic in its compression of spatial and temporal differences, the Spanish village allows visitors to stroll through impossible juxtapositions and across distances of style and region effortlessly. Within minutes, a visitor passes through the entrance gate and into the main plaza, which alone brings together twentytwo examples of national architecture. Each of these architectural references is blended together by fusing their façades into an over-arching town structure. The architect‘s plan unified the nation‘s diversity by creating a space in which difference was neither shocking nor disturbing. Entertainment, surprise and ease of mobility replaced the rigors and dangers of travel and brought tourists into contact with a highly mediated (and yet seemingly transparent) reproduction of provincial Spain. Past and present visitors are guided to interpret the site as a model preindustrial town constructed in the heart of Spain‘s most industrialized city (Epps, 2001).

Figure 4: Modern industrial city of Bilbao on the Bay of Biscay Spain's Basque territory. Source: (LPI Program, 2003)

The photographs taken for the Poble Espanyol supported the Exposition organizers‘ goal of creating a mass spectacle. The technique that had helped the architects mediate their experiences with Spain‘s architecture and fragment

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it into recombinable pieces, was the same tool that promoters, the press and the public used to fuse those elements back together. Not only did photography give to the village its documentary foundation, it also allowed other visual arts to gain a similar status in testifying to its legitimacy. As the geographer and folklorist Francisco Carreras y Candi wrote in his article about the Poble Espanyol in 1929, ―[The village‘s] success will increase if one day we see, painted in some art exhibition, ‗A corner of the Pueblo Español of Barcelona‘.‖ In other words, the only authentication needed to guarantee the artistic (and ideological) cohesion of the village would be for it to become the subject of another artist‘s rendition. (Mendelson, 2004)

Figure 5: Poble Espanyol. Source: (Mudunuri, 2007)

In order for the village to be a viable creation, its spaces had to be activated by the participation of visitors in activities and scenes that were considered typical. Several cafés were opened, among them was the Café del Pueblo Español in the Plaça Mayor, or main plaza. The original menu from the Café features a drawing of a view from the terrace into the plaza. After consuming Spanish fare like Valencian horchata and Andalusian sherry visitors could stroll down the Poble‘s streets to find regionally produced crafts, like the ceramic stalls set up in sections devoted to Zamora, Catalonia and Castile. By entering a diorama at the far end of the main plaza, visitors were able to recreate the architects‘ tour through Spain. Behind the façades of the various regional buildings along the main plaza, one could work one‘s way through typical scenes and practices; the diorama offered an easy representation of that experience for visitors without the potential shifts in trajectory that a walking tour through the village might entail. As with a trip by train or automobile, the dioramas emphasized destinations, both geographic and historical, instead of the journey. The blur that

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EKO NURSANTY represented the distance between places and peoples was eliminated, as it was in the village‘s cinematic compression of difference. In the process, the Poble itself appeared to defy mediation and become, like the diorama contained within its walls, a transparent reproduction of the travel experience. As one writer commented, ―In the Spanish village, turning a corner is like traveling many kilometers‖. (Gribau, 1929). Tourist resorts such as Sugar Beach are enclaves (Freitag, 1994); (Ayala, 1991); (Torres, 2002). devised and policed to keep the world outside at bay. In addition to the preservation of external spatial barriers, internally, the maintenance of ordered textures, smooth surfaces and manicured vegetation – ceaselessly reproduced through the toils of hotel workers – safeguards the illusion of semiotic, material and social order. There is rarely any matter out of place, whether in the form of dirt, jarring sights, smells and sounds, potentially ―threatening‖ persons, or ―inappropriate‖ behavior from guests or staff. ―Enclavic‖ tourist space such as this, contrasts with ―heterogeneous‖ tourist space, where tourism coexists within a more complex matrix of other activities, spaces, people and sensations (Edensor T. , 1998). The desire for otherness can be satiated within heterogeneous tourist realms although tourists may experience displacement, a frightening immersion in unfamiliar sensations amongst baffling cultural practices without any familiar reference points.

Figure 6: Sugar Beach Resort, Mauritius. Source: (Midgley, 2010)

At a global level, the ―exotic‖ and the different (to Western aesthetics, identities and cultural values) is increasingly channeled into tourist, retail and media networks (Appadurai, 1990) where it is domesticated, made mundane and safe

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by its emplacement in familiar place. Yet within these networks, notions of the ―exotic‖ persistently coagulate around several reified themes – around spicy and rich food, erotic apparel and mores, ―sensuous‖ cultural practices and colorful fauna and flora. Such themes have been imported and exported since colonial times (Said, 1978) as certain ―exotic‖ elements have been traded whereas other aspects of ―otherness‖ – the incomprehensible, sophisticated, and complex – have been derided and rarely feature in shop displays, media representations or tourist sites. They are not easily themed. In domestic space, otherness is commodified and displayed within a homely context. In the realm of the other, familiarity is reproduced in international hotels, retail outlets and tourist spaces that (re)present and (re)produce ―otherness‖ through various culinary, architectural, informational and performative techniques. (Edensor & Kothari, 2004) The contextualization of the ―exotic,‖ the endless upkeep of interrelated smooth spaces, and the instantiation of relationships between outside and inside may all be conceived as part of an assemblage of techniques used to order space in accordance with the imperatives of efficiency, calculability, predictability and familiarity akin to the McDonalidization of food provision (see Ritzer and Liska 1997). In addition, we can also consider how performative norms similarly order these tourist spaces. Themed spaces can be considered to be particular kinds of stages upon which both tourists and tourist workers perform (Edensor 2001). We have already indicated that Sugar Beach acts as a stage for the enactment of pseudo-colonial theatrical productions, in the shape of the wedding drama Figure 7: Themed spaces can be considered to be particular kinds of stages in outlined above. In addition to this production, the Genting Highland, Malaysia. resort holds themed evenings in which different ethnicities – Indian, Creole, Chinese – are performed by musicians and dancers, connoting the ―exotic‖ ethnic mix, the ―unity-in-diversity‖ theme that constructs Mauritius for tourists (but also for Mauritians) as an exemplary multicultural, multiethnic ―rainbow nation.‖ Such tourist spaces are akin to ―taskscapes‖ (Ingold and Kurttila 2000), usually identified as those everyday spaces that are fostered by the ways in which habits and habitation recreate local and domestic space and render it comfortable and homely. Mundane maneuvers and modes of dwelling are unreflexively carried out in such spaces, constituting a practical knowledge of what to do and how to behave. Habituated bodily dispositions emerge out of these routine practices, becoming embedded over time to produce a sort of touristic habitus (Bourdieu 1984). Yet such habits require

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EKO NURSANTY well-ordered environments if they are to persist, and the spatial constraints and opportunities which inhere in enclavic tourist spaces facilitate the reproduction of conventional tourist performances. To be more specific, if space is understood as ―a concrete and sensuous concatenation of material forces‖ (Wylie 2002: 251), performance in familiar tourist space relies upon specific materialities and the ways in which embodied subjects physically interact with space and objects. The surfaces, textures, temperatures, atmospheres, smells, sounds, contours, gradients and pathways of places encourage humans – limited and advantaged by their normative physical abilities – to follow particular courses of action, developing a practical orientation and a multisensory apprehension of place and space. Again this sensual understanding of place is not ―natural‖ but enmeshed within learnt apprehensions and cultural techniques of discernment. Smooth tourist space is devised to accord with familiar and comfortable sensual experiences, and we can identify the serial affordances which are distributed through an organised touristic network. International tourism thus produces ways of dwelling within very similar taskscapes, producing an extended sense of place. The production of these spatial affordances is part of the architectural development of resort tourism, and increasingly informs the design of themed space (Pine and Gilmore 1999). In 1997, virtually overnight, ―Bilbao‖ appeared. Frank Gehry‘s dazzling design for a far-flung branch of the Guggenheim Museum was not just an extraordinarily audacious architectural achievement, nor was it merely another new destination for the art-world jet set and a global ego trip on the part of its ambitious New York director. The museum immediately became synonymous with an entire city and a symbol of regeneration for a troubled region of Spain. That a single building in a provincial locale could so capture the popular imagination – globally and locally, high brow and low – was one of the stunning architectural surprises of the fin de siècle. Had not postmodernism, in repudiating the hubris of modernism, consigned urban architecture to modest infill operations within the historical fabric of the city? (Ockman, 2004) To begin with, the Bilbao museum is centrifugal, not centripetal, with respect to the psychogeographic imaginary. Spurning the machinic rationalism of Le Corbusier‘s ville radieuse, belatedly embodied by Beaubourg, it harks back to the anarcho-expressionist visions of Bruno Taut‘s Glass Chain circle, in particular the grotesque fantastications of Hermann Finsterlin. Taut himself, in the aftermath of the First World War, dreamed of the dissolution of big cities; he wished to see them replaced by an astral network of spaced-out, crystalline ―city-crowns.‖ Figure 8: A single building in a provincial locale could so The city of Bilbao, located in the northeast corner of Spain at the mouth capture the popular imagination globally and locally, of the Nervión River, is remote from the main pilgrimage routes of high brow and low in Singapore Merlion Park. contemporary tourism and requires an effort to get to (at least one connection from major international airports). A ―Bilbao‖ and the Global Imagination mercantile and industrial town, originally chartered in 1300, it reached the peak of its influence as an international port and center of ship-building and iron and steel production in the 1920s. By the mid-1970s, however,

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the fourth largest city in Spain had fallen victim to postindustrial economics and had little of tourist cachet to offer. The opening of the Guggenheim reversed this. Within the first year of operation, the museum attracted some 1,360,000 visitors, exceeding all expectations and infusing $160 million into the local economy. It continued to draw an average of 100,000 tourists a month to the city through the summer of 2001, over half from outside the region and the vast majority naming the museum their primary destination (Plaza, 2002).

While the Luxor management trumpets its meticulously crafted ―blockbuster corporate architecture‖ (to use Michael Dear‘s term) in an attempt to recreate a pyramid that even time ―fears‖ (according to the press release), it also ballyhoos its ―architectural team‖ that conceived the Luxor‘s many iconographic details, including ―murals depicting daily life in Ancient Egypt.‖ In other words, tourists need not only gawk at the grand simulations that reproduce the majesty and the marvel enjoyed by pharaohs and queens but at the artwork that more neatly squares with the lives of lower caste Egyptians. But the three murals that adorn walls behind the registration desks are not realistic representations but rather, Orientalized Figure 9: Guggenheim Bilbao Museum, Bilbao, Spain.Source: (Fhong, 2004) depictions of events that only further exoticize ―Ancient Egypt‖ by highlighting arcane rites and eroticized male bodies. In one example, perhaps the most tantalizing of the lobby murals, a very muscular Egyptian guard, arms crossed, directly stares across the mural at another scantily clad and virile guard, whose sexy and slightly feminized nonchalance strangely resembles the erotically halfdressed men of Calvin Klein advertisements, in which the boundaries between the heterosexual and homosexual male collapse. At the center of the mural, two cowled Egyptian priests pore over the forbidden knowledge offered by a burning brazier, smoke wafting upwards. They confirm the rites of maleness, the secrecy and the public taboo; they become disguised doubles of the two half-naked Egyptian guards, metonymies for the fleshly code of conduct that flashes right under the public‘s jaundiced eye. Outside the temple, another group of bare-chested Egyptian boy-men gather in the hot Egyptian sun. (Cass, 2004)

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The use of the pleasure grounds by visitors was determined by socioeconomic and geographical factors but also by individual preferences.

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History

hen the Castle Line shipping company first published its Guide to South Africa in the 1890s, it declared that it was for the use of ‗Tourists, Sportsmen, Invalids and Settlers‘. It is an intriguing group of middleclass travellers which reflects the manner in which 19th-century imperialism and its associated shipping lines sought to capture an essentially bourgeois market. Indeed the very existence of the guides reflected the existence and expansion of just that market. The Castle Line Guides were but one example of a whole range of imperial guides produced in the 19 th century to satisfy the demands of a wide spectrum of middle-class readers beyond the four acknowledged by the Castle Line – administrators, members of all manner of technical and professional services, missionaries and teachers, businessmen and the ubiquitous officers from the army and the largest navy the world had seen. Some of these people travelled with servants, who may also have had access to the guide-books. Moreover, not all settlers were driven to travel by poverty and displacement.

Figure 10: Scenic view from Table bay vintage, Cape Town, South Africa 1890s.Source: (Guenette)

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Many had capital and sought social and economic advancement in new geographical contexts. Women, of course, featured among several of these categories as settlers, missionaries, teachers, servants, wives, wealthy travellers and, from the late 19th century, as professionals too. (MacKenzie, 2005) The development of the travellers‘ handbook or guide can be seen as a central aspect of this process of marking and miniaturisation. Yet they have never received the attention they deserve. It is perhaps tempting to see them as merely the ephemeral help-mates of the jaded and arrogant imperial traveller. In fact, they unveil a complete mindset. Their compilers and publishers sought to offer the first complete descriptions of the territories and regions to which they were devoted. Often they were inexorable in their gazetteering gaze, few places being so insignificant as to be left out. But as we shall see they were also obsessed, among other things, with historicisation, with progress, with economic development, with architecture, and with the development of modern urban forms. The contrasts, or in some cases similarities, between them and the modern Lonely Planet and Rough Guides are intriguing and reflect the dramatic changes, and also continuities, that are characteristic of the final decades of the 20th century. The guide-books also illuminate and modify at least three of the central aspects of the oft-quoted work of Benedict Anderson (Anderson, 1983). On the one hand, their existence, their form and their repeated editions reflect the enormous growth of ‗print capitalism‘ in the 19th and 20th centuries, as well as the technical advances and the cheapening of unit cost which made these guides readily available to all. Moreover, many of their guides strengthened their connections with imperial enterprise, both in its large and small scale guises, by publishing advertisements for all manner of enterprises, shipping lines, mines, hotels, shops and railway companies, among others. Analysis of the guides indicates that they were directed at a white imperial ‗imagined community‘ which was global in its extent. Implicit in their pages is the notion, assiduously propagated by such figures as John Buchan and J.A. Cramb, that imperialism constituted an antidote to nationalism. In 1900, Cramb, writing propaganda about the Boer War, even wrote of ‗the dying principle of Nationality‘ (Mackenzie,1999).

Figure 11: Aerial view of the Pyramids of Giza, Egypt, from a Zeppelin, 1931 (1933).Source: (heritage Images)

The importance of Egypt in European tourism is well represented by the manner in which guide-books were issued by both Baedeker and Murray fairly early in their global expansion (John Murray, 1847;Wilkinson, 1847; Wilson, 1895). Murray issued his first guide to India, embracing mainly the presidencies of Bombay and Madras, in 1859, a mere two

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EKO NURSANTY years after the great revolt of 1857, and a year after the abolition of the East India Company and the imposition of direct Crown rule in the Indian sub-continent. Print capitalism thus seemed intent on acknowledging the shift from company to state. But the scale of the operation was such that some years elapsed before the entire Indian Empire was covered. Like so many other guides, it was clearly a considerable success. By 1931, it had reached six editions. It had been taken over by another publisher, included territories previously omitted, and had begun to look much like the other imperial guides with detailed entries on transportation and facilities in each colony. Much material remained the same, although the tables of imports and exports, revenue and expenditure tended to disappear (Aspinall, 1931). It grew in size and, after Aspinall‘s death in 1952, continued to be revised by Professor J. Sydney Dash (Aspinall, 1960). Indeed, it is interesting that academics often take over the revision of guides in the more modern period. At the beginning of the 21st century, whole sections of the weekend papers and slots of prime-time television are given over to travel journalists who earn a living by telling us ‗where and how to go‘ and the bookshops are full of travel books that often originated as essays in the printed media. Many are written by household names who use their writing to finance their travels (Holland & Huggan, 1998). Tourism in the second half of the 19th century began to serve as a vehicle for the expression of distinctive personal and social identities in ways that laid the foundations for the further development of tourism in the following century. An example of the extent to which a ‗culture of travel‘ had become part of popular consciousness is the late 19thcentury phenomenon of the fugue, a form of flight from the everyday that enjoyed an ephemeral status as a form of mental disorder, which Ian Hacking argues was formed by popular tourism, on the one hand, and vagrancy, on the other (Hacking, 2000). The Swedish anthropologist Orvar Löfgren has written of the early pioneers of tourism that their ‗aspirations to describe, represent, evaluate and compare also produced an urge to communicate; to show off, to write, to force others into comparison. Competition requires social exchanges – you cannot remain silent‘ (Löfgren, 1999: 26). Early tourism, he says, is therefore very much about the struggle with new modes of experience – how to select, judge and represent it and the norms and genres of representation to which the struggle gave rise. While much of this concerned the aesthetic dimensions of the tourist experience, there was a related social dimension to this phenomenon, as newly emerging professional groups fought for social space and cultural recognition. Nowhere were the competitive exchanges which marked this struggle pursued as energetically or as publicly as in the periodical press, the expansion of which created a space and a context that allowed the tourists from different social and cultural milieus, afflicted with the ‗urge to communicate‘, to give voice to their experiences.

Architecture is Place for Pleasure All the fun of the fair! All the excitement of the zoo! All the beauty of the country! All the thrill of the sports ground! Coney Island, Whipsnade, Olympia and Alton Towers rolled into one! The complete holiday outing for all the family, without any of the rush and fuss, expense and discomfort of other kinds of holiday jaunt! (Belle Vue (Manchester) Ltd, 1931: 2) These enticing claims, used to encourage visitors to Manchester‘s principal pleasure ground in the summer of 1931, highlight the attraction of the day-trip over an extended stay away from home. Prospective visitors would recognise the leisure spaces of the fair, zoo, country and sports ground and the famous places in the entertainment landscapes of

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England and the USA. Moreover, a day-trip could be enjoyed with minimal disruption to visitors‘ daily routines and weekly budgets. Ideas of familiarity and convenience have been central, arguably, to the popularity of small-scale domestic tourism. The absence of ‗rush and fuss, expense and discomfort‘, however, has rendered these trips invisible in histories of tourism. As John Benson has argued, ‗the day (and part-day) trip/ excursion has always been the most common, as well as the most easily overlooked, form of tourist activity‘ (Benson, 1994: 83). The term ‗pleasure ground‘ is used to describe Belle Vue and the Crystal Palace as sites that encompassed the shift from the pleasure gardens of the 18th and 19th centuries to the post-war theme park. Pleasure grounds provided a kaleidoscopic range of entertainments: from speedway and greyhound racing to Fascist and Communist rallies; from zoological gardens and museums to the latest fairground rides from America; and from jazz and brass bands to religious meetings of every denomination. The numerous attractions on offer, combined with their proximity to residential areas and links to regional railway networks, ensured a constant flow of local visitors and day-trippers. The accommodation of both local visitors and day-trippers highlights the difficulties in attempting to define, and situate, sites as either ‗leisure‘ or ‗tourist‘ experiences (Rojek, 1995; Urry, 1990: 2–4). The use of the pleasure grounds by visitors was determined by socio-economic and geographical factors but also by individual preferences. Some residents of Manchester or south London would visit Belle Vue or the Crystal Palace, respectively, once or twice a week. These trips might involve a couple of hours dancing, watching speedway, gambling on the dogs or courting in the woods. In this context, the pleasure grounds constituted part of an everyday leisure experience. For other local visitors and daytrippers from the surrounding counties and regions, however, excursions to Belle Vue or the Crystal Palace might occur once or twice a year. These trips could be considered as tourism, providing a break from daily and weekly routines. Some people travelled much further distances to attend political demonstrations at the sites. Should these visits be equated with work, leisure or tourism? Belle Vue and the Crystal Palace, therefore, elide simplistic definitions of ‗leisure‘ or ‗tourism‘ and point to the multiplicity of meanings that could be attached to sites by visitors.

Figure 12: Belle Vue, Greater Manchester. Source :(Wikipedia contributors, 2010)

Most trips to Belle Vue or the Crystal Palace can be understood as displaying John Urry‘s ‗minimal characteristics of the social practices‘ of tourism. The sites were physically separated from work and home, for local visitors and daytrippers, involving the ‗anticipation‘ of ‗intense pleasures‘ and ‗landscapes‘ that were distinct ‗from everyday experience‘

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EKO NURSANTY (Urry, 1990: 2–4). Tourism is prefixed with ‗domestic‘ to indicate the proximity, and convenience, of the pleasure grounds to visitors in time and space. The majority of visitors were able to travel to Belle Vue or the Crystal Palace and return home at night. Despite their similarities, Belle Vue and the Crystal Palace offer two different models of this kind of domestic tourism in inter-war England. Belle Vue initially opened as a zoological garden in 1836 with a few popular attractions (Nicholls, 1992). Situated in what became the industrial inner suburb of Gorton, as it was absorbed by Manchester‘s Victorian expansion, the pleasure ground was owned and managed by successive generations of the Jennison family. It grew steadily in size and popularity for most of the 19th century. By 1869, for example, the site housed a music hall, tea room, monkey house, menagerie, museum, lake, bear den, maze, aviary and flower gardens (Guide, 1869). The first decades of the 20th century witnessed a slump in attendance at Belle Vue and during the First World War the grounds were used for the war effort. The pleasure ground was eventually sold in 1925 to a newly formed, private company, Belle Vue (Manchester) Ltd, who managed the site until the mid-1950s. The key figure in this venture was John Henry Iles, an entrepreneur who had been involved in amusement parks for several decades. Under this new management, and aided by technological advances in the inter-war years, Belle Vue recovered its position as a key leisure site for the industrial North (Pussard, 1997). The grounds were extended and developed to include an extensive amusement park, enhanced exhibition facilities and new forms of spectator sports.

Figure 13: The Crystal Palace. Source: (Wikipedia contributors, 2011)

The Crystal Palace had a rather more impressive launch as the building constructed to house the Great Exhibition of 1851 in Hyde Park, funded by public and private subscriptions (Beaver, 1970). The glass edifice was sold to the Crystal Palace Company and moved to a suburban setting in Sydenham, south London, in 1854. It was intended as a permanent site for education in the arts and commerce, with vast ornamental gardens, fountains and lakes to rival the Palais de Versailles. The Crystal Palace deteriorated towards the end of the 19th century through a lack of financial backing and the legal restriction preventing Sunday opening of the site.

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The Festival of Empire in 1911, and the Coronation celebrations in the same year, stimulated a revival of interest. It was not sufficient, however, to relieve the monetary pressure on the Crystal Palace Company and the Duke of Plymouth bought the site in 1911. The Lord Mayor of London established a fund to rescue the Crystal Palace and, in 1913, it was officially bought for the nation. During the First World War, the grounds were used as a naval depot, accommodating around 13,000 sailors. The site reopened to the public in 1920, briefly housing the Imperial War Museum. It was administered by the Crystal Palace Trustees, the majority of whom came from the local authorities of south London. The Crystal Palace retained its educative ethos but introduced new forms of entertainment, under the enthusiastic management of Henry Buckland. The ornamental lake, gardens and ballroom now accommodated boating, speedway and jazz respectively, encapsulating ‗all the razz-a-ma-tazz‘ of the 1920s (Bell-Knight, 1976: 48). The building was completely destroyed by fire in November 1936, after 16 years of mixed public opinion, but parts of the site remained open until its future was decided after the Second World War.

Figure 14: Festival of the Empire was held at The Crystal Palace,London 12 May 1911.Source: (Wikipedia contributors, 2011)

The chequered histories of Belle Vue and the Crystal Palace reveal the diverse origins of, and influences on, domestic tourism. Belle Vue, as a family-run business and entrepreneurial venture in the industrial north, differed greatly from the Crystal Palace, with its imperialist ideals and municipal administration in the suburban south. Both pleasure grounds, however, were part of the changing shape of domestic tourism in England. Domestic tourism became equated not only with short-term visits but, moreover, with an emphasis on combining education with entertainment. Belle Vue and the Crystal Palace were exemplars of this practice and, in this context, are comparable as domestic tourist sites. The pleasure grounds juxtaposed the museums, zoos and gardens of the rational recreation movement with the technology, noise and excitement of amusement parks and dance halls. Day-trippers and part-day visitors came to Belle Vue and the Crystal Palace for political demonstrations and religious rallies, staying on

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EKO NURSANTY for evening pyrodramas and panoramas. As the ‗Home of Amusement and Instruction‘, therefore, pleasure grounds fulfilled important social, cultural and political roles (Belle Vue (Manchester) Ltd, 1933a: 4).

Public and Private Beach Huts. Relationship between changing social practices and the use and appearance of beach spaces. In larger resorts, they contrast with the more urban presence of the Pier and its garish amusements. Jointly, these built environments have helped to give the seaside resort an iconic status as a timeless symbol of escape and as a hybrid of the natural and the artificial, the naughty and the restrained. These oppositional characterisations are epitomised by the comic seaside postcard, where images of release and rejuvenation vie with those of discomfort and restriction. Similar tensions also characterised the division of resorts into the seemingly fixed categories of popular and select, with the artificial and the naughty seen to be in the ascendant at the popular resort, and the natural and the restrained at the select resort. The period selected is the inter-war years, a time when seaside resorts were at the forefront of setting new fashions, changing social practices and creating new leisure spaces (Chase, 1999; Walton, 2000). Cultural theory has a tendency to subsume differences between resorts over time, under an overall categorisation of the English beach as a ‗pleasure zone‘ that has now largely lost its particular powers to please (Urry, 1990, 1997). This reflects an approach that is theoretically led, rather than following on from empirical work. The concept of liminality, for example, is useful in highlighting the symbolic content of seaside activities and rituals, and their importance in defining class hierarchies, but ignores the ways in which the seaside resort was not a liminal zone at all times and for all people (Shields, 1991). The transitional zone between land and water was a place where pleasure and sexuality were both restrained and given an outlet but these intersected in different ways in different times and places. It is an examination of the specific constraints on liminality and the ‗tourist gaze‘ that best explains the differences between resorts and the evolving development of built environments and social practices.

Figure 15: Beach huts in Belgium. Source: (Ryckaert, 2009)

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In terms of its place in forming and reflecting British identity, the beach hut can also be viewed as a little colonial outpost, on the boundary between the manmade and natural worlds. In Frinton, beach huts were permitted primarily for those with residences in the town. Of course, many Frinton visitors and residences had colonial connections themselves and would have been familiar with the bungalows and huts found in different forms throughout the Empire. Anthony King‘s history of the bungalow finds the first English examples at the select resort of Westgate and Birchington, along the Kent coast in the 1870s (King, 1984). While these late Victorian bungalows are differentiated from beach huts by their isolation, they did establish the principles of bridging the natural and the manmade, bringing domestic spaces to the edge of the sea. By the inter-war years, the bungalow was seen to be a sign of unwanted ribbon development rather than as an accessory dwelling for the leisured classes. By then, however, the beach hut had taken over from the bungalow as the approved site for communing with the sea. It had also come to serve a wide range of domestic functions, including shelter, catering, including the all important cup of tea, and the display of objects and interior design skills, surrounding the otherwise relatively anonymous beachgoer with a number of indicators of social status and lifestyle preference (Theroux, 1983: 68–70, for acerbic comment on chalets).

Figure 16: Beach huts in Essex England. Source: (Smart)

The beach hut is but one of the temporary building types found at the beach, which includes railway carriages, as at Shoreham, shacks and chalets, found at settlements around the coast including Jaywick, not far from Frinton, and then in post-war years, the caravan (Ward & Hardy,1984). There are many physical similarities between the original chalets at Jaywick and the huts at Frinton but the beach hut is distinguished from its chalet cousins by the social tone signifiers discussed later and by the fact that they were not allowed to be used for overnight accommodation. In this respect, they can be seen as adult Wendy houses or doll‘s houses – by miniaturising the scale of domestic life, an element of play and

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EKO NURSANTY fantasy is introduced. The beach hut symbolised a miniaturised suburbia, domesticating the seafront and deflating connotations of either fear or the sublime. This domestication also meant that the presence of the beach hut signaled ownership by groups of select individuals rather than unrestricted public access: beach huts were rarely found singly. (Chase, 2005)

Lake as a New Tourism District

The inter-war years were a transitional period in the evolution of the Lake District as a tourist centre. Throughout the period the holiday industry still displayed many of the characteristics that had emerged in the later-19th and early 20th centuries as a result of the railways (Marshall & Walton, 1981; Walton, 1991; Walton & McGloin, 1981; Walton & O‘Neill, 2004). The area remained an up-market holiday destination, capitalizing on the scenic attractions and literary connections that, in 1937, led E.M. Forster to describe it as ‗the most magical corner of England‘ (Forster, 1937: 46). The overall structure of the holiday industry in the Lake District in the inter-war years showed few changes from that established prior to the First World War. The district catered for a relatively small, niche market composed of those who wished to contemplate the scenery, partake of outdoor activities and savour the artistic associations. Other segments of the holiday market were more vulnerable to the fluctuations of the inter-war economy and local newspapers frequently contained laments about the state of trade in the district. Such comments had particular relevance to the fortunes of the boarding houses, apartments and small hotels that proliferated in Windermere, Bowness, Ambleside and Keswick. These establishments drew their clientele from the lower middle classes – the clerks, teachers and small businessmen and from the more affluent members of the working classes who took their annual holidays in the district and enjoyed its outdoor attractions. This sector appears to have been under considerable pressure in the inter-war years, with custom declining not only because of prevailing economic uncertainties but also as a result of changing patterns of holiday-making. Census figures show a decline in the number of lodging-house keepers in all of the resorts between 1921 and 1931, although there are some problems of interpretation associated with these figures (O‘Neill, 2001: 69–70). As the period progressed, complaints about this trend were recurrent features of the local newspapers. In 1925 a commentary on the summer season at Keswick worried about ‗flying visits‘ to the district, expressing anxiety about how the ‗weekend habit seems to be growing amongst those who holiday in the Lake District, and this has been developed by the motor car, as has the holiday tour‘ (Westmorland Gazette, 10 October 1925). The growth of the outdoor movement added to the problems of the boarding-house sector. The desire to be close to nature generated a craze for hiking in the inter-war period that brought with it a demand for alternative and cheaper modes of accommodation (Howkins & Lowerson, 1979; Taylor, 1997; Walker, 1985). Camping developed steadily in the area (although to nothing like the extent seen in the years after the Second World War), as farmers sought to supplement their income by catering for this new source of business (for example Penrith Observer, 11 June 1935; Westmorland Gazette, 29 July 1922, 8 August 1925, 11 April 1931, 3 April 1937). The period also saw a rise in the number of holiday hostels in the area. The Co-operative Holiday Association and its sister organisation, the Holiday Fellowship, continued its policy of buying and converting buildings for this purpose (Leonard, 1934). The main source of expansion, however, came with the formation of the Youth Hostels Association in 1930. By 1931, four YHA hostels were open in Lakeland, a figure which had increased to 12 by 1935. The number of visitors to these hostels grew rapidly

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through the decade. Statistics for the total of bednights in the hostels show and increase from 12,000 in 1932 to 72,640 in 1938 (O‘Neill, 2001: 94–6).

Figure 17: The Lake District, as The Lakes or Lakeland, in North West England. Source: (Diliff, 2009)

Both private and public investment, therefore, sought primarily to secure and develop the traditional attractions and activities that had established the area as a holiday destination. Those involved knew full well that the area flourished as a contrast to the vulgar pleasures of the seaside and consequently eschewed the forms of entertainment associated with the latter, believing that ‗amusements and beauty of surroundings are not compatible‘. The composition of the resort populations also accentuated the pressures on the councils, for most of the resorts had a number of wealthy offcomers who were more concerned about the resorts‘ residential amenity than about the development of the tourist trade (Ward, 1948: 214; Westall, 1991). Another form of tourist space in the resorts were the pleasure grounds that entertained both the local and the visiting public through the provision of rational, orderly recreations. Their development in the interwar years was the product of both public and private initiatives. In Keswick, for instance, the urban district council relied on a private trust to extend Fitz Park pleasure ground in the town. In Windermere and Ambleside, the councils proved more active. In 1928, Ambleside council assumed control of White Platts pleasure ground, which had been opened in 1923 after a public subscription led by local businessmen gathered together in the town‘s Advertising Association. The council provided more facilities and later extended the park by taking over the site of the local sheep fair. Although this last action upset local farmers, it demonstrated fully, as the local newspaper noted, that the council ‗realised that the trade and prosperity of Ambleside so essentially depended on visitors‘. At Windermere, the council took over Queen‘s Park and assumed the running of Bowness recreation ground but proceeded slowly in developing the Glebeland as a pleasure ground because of costs (Bott, 1994: 114–15; CCRO Kendal, WSUD/A/9, 11 December 1929, 1 October 1930; Westmorland Gazette, 6 July 1929, 1 October 1930; WSUD/W, Health and Pleasure Grounds Committee, 12 August 1930, 26 September 1930, 10 March 1936). The pleasure gardens and lakeside paths added to the ambience of the resorts, which the local councils zealously guarded in order to avoid any unpleasantness or vulgarity that compromised their upmarket reputation. This ambition involved the councils in policing behaviour in the resorts. Windermere UDC, for instance, urged the police to contain the rowdiness of trippers near the lakeshore at Bowness, where ‗unsightly dancing‘ and ‗racing for beer‘ prompted one councillor to describe Sunday afternoons as ‗something like the Lancashire Wakes‘. The vigilant councils also controlled business initiatives that threatened the orderly atmosphere or attractive surroundings that were the lifeblood of the resorts. Ice-cream vendors, mobile fish and chip vans, ticket ‗touts‘ for the charabanc firms and various other traders and smallholders received short shrift from resort leaders determined, as at Windermere, not to let their towns take on the prospect of a ‗penny bazaar‘ (O‘Neill, 2001: 141–6).

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Places must engage with the outside world in a clear, coordinated and communicative way if they are to influence public opinion.

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Place Identity, Image and Reputation. Images of Place, as one ploughs through the ever-increasing quantity of blogs, articles, interviews and academic papers where place ‗branding‘ or public diplomacy are discussed – and interestingly enough, more and more of them mention both ideas in the same context – I get a sense that one important message may finally be starting to permeate the community of academics and practitioners: that communications are no substitute for policies, and that altering the image of a country or city may require something a little more substantial than graphic design, advertising or PR campaigns. Figure 18: City Branding of Tugu Muda in Semarang, Indonesia. Perhaps good sense is at last beginning to prevail; perhaps some policy makers have started to ask themselves when was the last time they changed their minds about something they had believed for most of their lives just because an advertisement told them to. Perhaps those same policy makers, seized with an unprecedented academic rigour and a new desire to make their public expenditures accountable and measurable, have even started to

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search around for properly documented case studies to prove how marketing campaigns have demonstrably and measurably improved the international image of nations, and have failed to find a single one. More research is needed in this area, and a clearer distinction between selling campaigns such as tourism and investment promotion – which may well improve sales within their specific sectors and among their specific audiences but may have little or no effect on the overall image of the country – and so-called nation branding campaigns. Establishing clarity on this point is difficult because remarkably few nation branding initiatives appear to include any provision for measuring their impact or effectiveness. Considering that it is usually taxpayers‘ or donors‘ money being spent on such campaigns, this is surprising. (Anholt, 2010).

One starts with the observation that places have images just as products and corporations have images, and that places depend to a similar extent on the power and appeal of those images for their progress and prosperity. But there is a big difference between observing that places have brand images (which is just a useful metaphor) and claiming that places can be branded (which is an excessively ambitious, entirely unproven and ultimately irresponsible claim). Place branding, as an originally intended the term to be understood, observes the former but does not claim the latter. There are certainly policy approaches which enable places to improve the speed, efficiency and effectiveness with which they achieve a better image – or else that would be out of a job – but that better image can only be earned; it cannot be constructed or invented. There are, in essence, five new ideas within place branding or competitive identity: 1. Places must engage with the outside world in a clear, coordinated and communicative way if they are to influence public opinion. A robust and productive coalition between government, business and civil society, as well as the creation of new institutions and structures to achieve and maintain this behaviour, is necessary for achieving this harmonization of goals, themes, communications and behaviours in the long term. 2. The notion of brand image is critical: reputation understood as an external, even cultural phenomenon which is not under the direct control of the ‗owner‘ of the brand but which nonetheless is a critical factor that underpins every transaction between the brand and its consumers. 3. The notion of brand equity is critical: the idea that reputation is a hugely valuable asset that needs to be managed, measured, protected, leveraged and nurtured over the long term. 4. The notion of brand purpose is critical: the idea that uniting groups of people around a common strategic vision can create a powerful dynamic for progress, and that brand management is first and foremost an internal project. 5. The importance of sustained and coherent innovation in all sectors of national activity if public opinion is to be influenced: international public opinion, and in consequence the media, is far more interested in new things that suggest a clear and attractive pattern of development and ability within the country or city, than in the rehearsal of past glories.

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EKO NURSANTY If these five concepts are understood and responsibly applied by policy makers, they can bring a powerful new dimension to development, statecraft and governance. Together, they represent a genuinely new approach to the way in which places need to be managed in the age of globalization, and the coining of a new term to describe this approach appears justified.

Policies alone, even if effectively implemented, are not sufficient to persuade foreign publics to part with their existing prejudices and perceptions, which in the case of national images may prove exceptionally resilient to change. Substance must be coupled with strategy and frequent symbolic actions if it is to result in an enhanced reputation. Strategy, in its simplest terms, is knowing who a nation is and where it stands today (both in reality and according to internal and external perceptions); knowing where it wants to get to; and knowing how it is going to get there. The two main difficulties associated with strategy development are (a) reconciling the needs and desires of a wide range of different national actors into a more or less single direction, and (b) finding a strategic goal that is both inspiring and feasible, since these two requirements are frequently contradictory. Substance is the effective execution of that strategy in the form of new economic, legal, political, social, cultural and educational activity: the real innovations, structures, legislation, reforms, investments, institutions and policies which will bring about the desired progress. Symbolic actions are a particular species of substance that happen to have an intrinsic communicative power: they might be innovations, structures, legislation, reforms, investments, institutions or policies which are especially suggestive, remarkable, memorable, picturesque, newsworthy, topical, poetic, touching, surprising or dramatic. Most importantly, they are emblematic of the strategy: they are at the same time a component of the national story and the means of telling it. Some good examples of symbolic actions are the Slovenian government donating financial aid to their Balkan neighbours in order to prove that Slovenia wasn‘t part of the Balkans; Spain legalizing single-sex marriages in order to demonstrate that its values had modernized to a point diametrically opposed to the Franco period; the decision of the Irish government to exempt artists, writers and poets from income tax in order to prove the state‘s respect for creative talent; Estonia declaring internet access to be a human right; or the Hague hosting the European Court of Human Rights (partly) in order to cement the Netherlands‘ reputation as a global bastion of the rule of law. A building, such as the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao or the Sydney Opera House, may have a symbolic value for its city and country well beyond its economic ‗footprint‘; and places with no chance of being selected to host major sporting or cultural events are often observed to bid for them, apparently just in order to communicate the fact that they are internationally engaged, ambitious, and proud of their achievements. 22

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Even simple publicity stunts, such as ‗The Best Job in the World‘, Tourism Queensland‘s international recruitment drive for an ‗islands caretaker‘ in early 2009, can become symbolic acts that – in return for a remarkably small investment – create widespread ‗viral‘ interest in places. Often the symbolic power of such an action can‘t be predicted, as its full effect derives from an imponderable fusion of the action itself, the moment and context in which it appears, the mood and culture of the ‗audience‘, and their perceptions of the place where it originates. The ‗Best Job in the World‘, by accident or by design, sat neatly at the intersection between a number of powerful ideas: the existing, positive ‗brand‘ of Australia; the popularity of one kind of reality show that puts young adults into challenging environments and another kind where they compete for a dream job; the collapse of international financial markets and a consequent surge of interest in escape from modern urban reality; concern about climate change and the protection of vulnerable environments, especially coral reefs; and much else besides. Such actions can also be planned; but the three most important points are: 1. A single symbolic action will seldom achieve any lasting effect: multiple actions should emanate from as many different sectors as possible in order to build a rounded and believable image for the place. 2. They should never be empty – they must be communicative substance rather than just communication. Each symbolic action must be intrinsically defensible against the accusation of empty rhetoric, even when taken out of context and scrutinized on its own account (as commentators in a healthy democracy are bound to do). 3. They should continue in an unbroken succession for many years. Building a reputation in our busy modern world is like trying to fill a bathtub with the plug pulled out: as soon as each symbolic action is completed, its effect on public attention begins to decay, and unless it is swiftly followed by further and equally remarkable proof of the kind of country that produces it, that country‘s reputation will stand still or move backwards, and the bathtub will never fill. It is clear that places require new and dedicated structures to coordinate, conceive, develop, maintain and promote such an unbroken chain of proof. None of the traditional apparatus of trade or government is fit for such a purpose – at least not in a way that cuts across all areas of national activity and is capable of sustaining it for the years and decades it takes to enhance, refine or otherwise alter the international image of a nation. (Anholt, 2010 p.8) Places that Have Simple Images There is a basic question about the images of places which has seldom been addressed in the literature, and which remains largely unresolved: do places benefit more from having a clear, simple image, or is it preferable for them to have a rich, complex and even contradictory image? Societies are intrinsically complex and contradictory phenomena, so why should any country attempt to alter or disguise this fact in the way it represents itself and is perceived by outsiders? 23

EKO NURSANTY The question leads to some fundamental issues about the theory and practice of competitive identity; indeed, it challenges the very idea of applying brand theory to the development of places. Brands in the commercial sphere tend to opt unequivocally for projecting a clear and simple image. Of course, any corporation that is lucky and successful enough to have maintained its brand for generations may find that the brand image, over time, becomes richer and more complex; but branding is essentially seen as a process of reduction. The laser-like clarity of a single, distinctive positioning is often described as the product‘s only chance of cutting through the indifference of the consumer, the chaos of the marketplace and the clutter of the media. For decades, commercial brands have followed the prevailing wisdom and sought to reduce their ‗essence‘ down to a single promise to the consumer. Indeed, there is probably some close equivalent for places of the classic marketing notion of the ‗evoked set‘, a theory which argues that prospective purchasers never hold a shortlist of more than a small number of items in consideration at any one time. It would be a worthwhile research project to try and determine whether the evoked set theory does indeed hold true for places: as tourist destinations, business travel destinations, investment locations, and even as political allies, cultural partners and country of origin for products and services. If so, the implications are striking: for any country to stand a chance of being selected in one of these categories, it is not enough for them to improve their image; they need to force their way into the evoked set. Such countries, having used a deliberately simplified brand promise to establish their presence in the evoked set and register in the consciousness of the audience, can then gradually proceed to a widening of the discourse and a more nuanced ‗conversation‘ with their multiple target groups. Better-known countries, on the other hand, might already be within the evoked set and have little interest in developing a single ‗promise‘ (and little chance of doing so without compromising the significance and breadth of their image and identity), but will want to invest more in the activities that typically widen and deepen existing awareness of their full offering: cultural relations, educational activities and exchanges, cultural tourism, etc. Some countries might be faced with the need to sharpen and broaden their image at the same time for different publics or in different sectors, as economic patterns change. Wealthy, developed European nations, for example, may need to broaden and enrich their profiles within Europe and North America, but find that they are much less well-known in their emerging target markets of China, India, Russia and Brazil, where the task is really one of introducing the brand; and a simpler, single promise is then far more appropriate. In all cases, this kind of reductive, signpost branding should only be considered as a temporary measure, designed to get a country to register on the radar of indifferent or ignorant audiences. Such a brand is comparable to the point of an ice-axe, the purpose of which is to achieve traction on the steep ice-face of people‘s limited attention and interest in other countries. As soon as feasible, the relationship must be broadened, and marketing or selling must give way to teaching and discussing; projection must give way to 24

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engagement; monologue must be replaced by dialogue. But no dialogue is possible without first creating the desire for that dialogue in the interlocutor. The argument that good place images are rich and complex has usually been espoused, even if not expressed in quite these terms, by the proponents and practitioners of cultural relations, both in the context of national image building and bilateral relationship building. The experience of countries which have successfully practiced cultural relations over many years shows that consistent, mutual cultural exchange does eventually create an environment where respect and tolerance flourish, and this undoubtedly also favours increased trade in skills, knowledge, products, capital and people. People who understand each other tend to get on better, and people who get on better tend to trade with each other more frequently, more freely and with greater mutual profit. (Anholt, 2010. p.15) Place Branding Fesenmaier and MacKay provide us with an account of projected image and created meaning. ‗The actuality of tourism has been suggested as less important than its expressive representations. What is depicted or not depicted in place image advertising, and on whose authority it is selected, involves a more complex question of what comprises the destination and who has the power to define its identity‘ (Fesenmaier and MacKay 1996, p. 37). So created meaning defines place identity and projects it accordingly, using narratives and visuals. In general terms we should raise the question as to how place marketers would delineate these narratives. When places are defined at the level of countries, some help in answering this question is provided by Hall (1996). He phrases the question as follows: ‗But how is the modern nation imagined? What representational strategies are deployed to construct our common-sense views of national belonging or identity? L How is the narrative of the national culture told?‘ Of the many aspects, which a comprehensive answer to that question would include, Hall selected five main elements: first, there is the narrative of the nation, as it is told and retold in national histories, literature, the media and popular culture; second, there is the emphasis on origins, continuity, tradition and timelessness; a third discursive strategy is the invention of tradition; a fourth example is that of the foundational myth (also elaborated on by McLean and Cooke 2003, p. 155); and finally the national identity is also often symbolically grounded in the idea of a pure, original people or ‗folk‘ (Hall 1996, p. 613). Anderson (1991) refers to nations as being ‗imagined communities‘. The nation is ‗imagined [emphasis in original] because the members of even the smallest nation will never know most of their fellow-members, meet them, or even hear of them, yet in the minds of each lives the image of the communion‘ (Anderson 1991, p. 6). Second, it ‗is imagined as a community [emphasis in original], because, regardless of the actual inequality and exploitation that may prevail in each, the nation is always conceived as a deep, horizontal comradeship‘ (Anderson 1991, p. 7). Also, Anderson‘s ‗point of departure is that nationality, or, as one might prefer to put it in view of the world‘s multiple significations, nationness, as well as nationalism, are cultural artefacts of a particular kind‘ (Anderson 1991, p. 4). ‗Nationalism has to be understood by aligning it L with the large cultural systems that preceded it, out of which – as well as against which – it came into being‘ (Anderson 1991, p. 12). These are the ‗religious community and the dynastic realm [emphasis in original]. For both of these, in their heydays, were taken-for-granted frames of reference, very much as nationality is today‘ (Anderson 1991, p. 12). Religious communities ‗were imaginable largely through the medium of a sacred language

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EKO NURSANTY and written script‘ (Anderson 1991, p. 12). For example, in Islam, believers from the most distant countries, when they met in Mecca, were able to communicate, because the sacred texts they shared existed only in classical Arabic. ‗In this sense, written Arabic functioned like Chinese characters to create community out of signs, not sounds‘ (Anderson 1991, p. 13). Of course, Latin was the sacred language of Christendom, but it waned steadily after the late Middle Ages, for two reasons: the explorations of the non-European world and the gradual demotion of the sacred language itself (Anderson 1991, pp. 16–18). As far as the dynastic realm is concerned: ‗during the seventeenth century L the automatic legitimacy of sacral monarchy began its slow decline in Western Europe‘ (Anderson 1991, p. 21). Gradually, in its place came ‗the nation‘, which was facilitated primarily by ‗print-capitalism, which made it possible for rapidly growing numbers of people to think about themselves, and to relate themselves to others, in profoundly new ways‘ in a new age of mechanical reproduction (Anderson 1991, p. 36). ‗If manuscript knowledge was scarce and arcane lore, print knowledge lived by reproducibility and dissemination‘ (Anderson 1991, p. 37). Hence, to understand what came to represent national culture ‗one has to look at the ways in which administrative organisations create meaning‘ (Anderson 1991, p. 53). These are signs and symbols, with language at the base. The importance of the adjective ‗cultural‘ in cultural identity was emphasized only implicitly. Fortunately, the Dutch sociologist Hofstede‘s (2001a) definition of culture provides some additional support. According to Hofstede, culture is a mental programme, the ‗software of the mind‘ (Hofstede 2001a, p. 15). Hofstede distinguishes four elements of a culture that could also be related to Hall‘s and Anderson‘s definitions: heroes (as part of the narrative of the nation); rituals (which maintain the origins, continuity, traditions and emphasize timelessness); symbols (which often provide a reference to foundational myths); and values (instilled in the people of ‗folk‘). Symbols are the more superficial elements of a culture. Heroes are models of behaviour; people who have a high symbolic value, high esteem and can function as an Figure 19: The importance of the adjective ‘cultural’ in cultural identity, Javanese Village in Semarang, Indonesia. example. Rituals are codes of behaviour, ways in which we deal with everyday or annual events, to celebrate something or to express mourning. Values are the collective inclination to choose one course above another; values are feelings with a direction ((Hofstede 2001a, p.20). Competing in the global market, place marketers are forced to decide whether and which elements of national, local and regional identity would contribute best to the attraction system of place. And then, which elements of the attraction system would represent place most appropriately through its projected images. But again, according to Fesenmaier and MacKay: The images presented in advertisements and brochures are, by definition, out of context and recontextualized

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to suggest an interpretation. The authoritative voices of the display and destination promotion provide this interpretation and authentication since objects have no voice. However, the authoritative voice cannot singularly represent a destination image. The viewers of the image are also involved in conceiving meaning. (Fesenmaier and MacKay 1996, p. 37).

Product Offering Based On Identity Globally, places are being marketed as attractive locations for tourism, trade, talent (employment opportunities) and treasury (investment opportunities). Each of these four categories include product or factor offerings that enhance market potential. For example, the components that build the tourism product are commonly referred to as the ‗4 As‘: Attractions; Amenities (or hospitality industry – comprising accommodation and F&B/catering services – and retailing); Access (or transport); and Ancillary services (or visitor centres, insurance and financial services) (Cooper et al. 2000; Page 2003). Talent is being attracted through some of the same offerings, including a rich and dynamic supply of cultural activities, but also by offering income tax benefits, good health care and international schooling systems, and attractive housing. Additional offerings for investors and traders include tax reliefs and factor cost benefits (such as cost, productivity or quality benefits on land, raw materials and/or labour). All these elements should make places look more attractive from the outside. Hence, place experiences are often mediated, ‗staged‘ by various public and private actors (MacCannell 1973). Tour packages, chamber of commerce trade missions, hospitality resort ghettos, guided sightseeing tours, shopping malls, international schools‘ open days, fake airport souvenir art, even the taxi drivers who receive introductory and advanced training on ‗how to deal with visitors‘. Often several institutions are involved in marketing these products, such as tourism promotion boards or destination marketing organizations; export, trade and investment agencies; convention bureaux; ministries of foreign affairs; chambers of commerce; financial institutions, larger corporations and/or trade associations. Such place marketers often look at place promotion from just one or a few perspectives, utilizing, as mentioned earlier, a target market approach. But the role of place marketers has shifted in recent years from pure marketing organizations to public–private bodies that are also involved in product development and industry relations. This provides the opportunity for such institutions not just to project the identity of place, but also to change it physically and enhance the product offering: ‗This role extension enables a matching of authoritative voice and reconstructed reality in order to verify official imaging‘ (Fesenmaier and MacKay 1996, p. 38). In other words, place branding involves heavy investment in real place development. Public, private or partnered investment in culture, sports, heritage, neighbourhoods and districts, education, public facilities and entertainment and tourism infrastructure with respect for the local identity of both people and environment, can send powerful messages to the outside world. Nevertheless, regardless of the physical investment, most elements of the product offering of place involve services such as hospitality, transport, retail, health care, education, financial, business, entertainment and cultural services. But, more than just an assemblage of products, when people visit a place, it is above all a hedonic product, in which various services are offered by a myriad of industries and supporting industries, which, within loosely-coupled networks, create the conditions that enable visitors to experience place. The experiential nature of place consumption is discussed in more detail in Chapter 8. Here, we need to focus on some of the characteristics of services that represent potential

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EKO NURSANTY barriers to building a coherent product offering and providing a consistent experience of place based on a ‗true‘ place identity. In general terms, the characteristics that distinguish services from goods are: intangibility, inseparability, variability, and perishability (Hoffman and Bateson 2002, p. 27; Kotler et al. 2003, p. 42; Lovelock and Wright 2002, p. 10; Weaver and Lawton 2002, p. 206). First of all, intangibility, which also lies at the heart of the other unique differences between goods and services (Hoffman and Bateson 2002, p. 27), implies that services cannot be tested or sampled prior to purchase. This is one of the reasons why ICT provides such tremendous novel opportunities for promoting place brands through virtual projections (Cho and Fesenmaier 2000). The use of tangible clues is particularly important; for example, through the use of multimedia, artefacts, architecture, design and physical presence in source markets (for example, the design of the foreign destination marketing offices and booths at travel exhibitions, or through travelling museum exhibitions). But, as well as these tangible clues, the way in which physical investments in place development are made should appeal to the imagination in order to facilitate communicability.

Dubai: Brand Strategy With the ending of the frigid Fifty Years‘War between Soviet-style communism and the West‘s liberal democracy, some observers announced that we had reached the ‗end of history‘. Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact now that the bitter ideological confrontation sparked by this [last] century‘s collision of ‗isms‘ has ended, larger numbers of people from more points on the globe than ever before have aggressively come forward to participate in history. They have left behind centuries, even millennia, of obscurity in forest and desert and rural isolation to request from the world community – and from the global economy that links it together –a decent life for themselves and a better life for their children. (Ohmae 1995, p. 1) Dubai is one of the seven Emirates comprising the United Arab Emirates (UAE), strategically positioned on the north-eastern tip of the Arabian Peninsula, South of the Arabian Gulf. As a Gulf state, like so many other nations in the Middle East, the UAE has faced many challenges in trying to maintain its impressive economic prosperity following recent events, which had a dramatic impact on its geopolitical environment. In particular, the second Gulf War has shown the tremendous impact that the spread of global media has on projecting place image. Everyone will recall the rivalry between regional and international (read American/European) news broadcasters and their differences in the way in which events were reported. Huntington‘s (1993) ‗The Clash of Civilizations‘ seemed to have become a reality. Two Gulf Wars, the events of September 11 2001 in the USA, and the ongoing destabilization of the Middle East have probably not improved the Gulf region‘s image in the West. But Dubai and its leadership have tried to take advantage of this raised level of attention, illustrating to the world the rapid development of the Emirate, its the high level of modernization, but at the same time not shying away from its identity and heritage. In fact, Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum, ruler of Dubai (even as crown prince, before the death of his brother, the previous ruler, Sheikh Maktoum bin Rashid Al Maktoum in January 2006, he was the most visible leader), actively promotes entrepreneurship, curtailment of bureaucracy and corruption, and modernization, but with respect for heritage, culture and roots.

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Figure 20: Dubai, United Arab Emirates. Source: (Sheikh, 2006)

In fact, Dubai is using the focus of attention on the region, the renewed global interest in Islam and Arabic culture, and the attention that Dubai gets as a rapidly modernizing global hub in the Middle East, as a means of maintaining and publicizing its identity and heritage. And this raises a key issue, namely how Dubai might be able to maintain its Islamic identity and heritage while at the same time globalizing its economy? In fact, development in Dubai is not a matter of tourism dollars supporting the rest of the economy at the cost of losing the identity and authenticity of place, as in many developing nations. Quite the contrary, in fact: the oil dollars and, more importantly, income from trade and foreign investment that are reinvested in infrastructural projects in order to diversify the economy, have created the opportunity to preserve some of the local heritage in a state that was rapidly globalizing in any case. International visits to Dubai have increased only recently, but have rapidly gained significance since the late 1990s, as the oil to non-oil ratio of the gross domestic product (GDP) decreased from almost 36 per cent in 1990 to less than 5 per cent in 2006 (DTCM 2002; Dubai Chamber 2007). In other words, it is not just a matter of – what many people think – local oil wealth being squandered in silly prestigious projects, as we shall show. Said (1978, 1991, p. 5) – in discussing how, during earlier times, and still today, the West constructs the Orient – pointed out that ‗ideas, cultures and histories cannot seriously be understood or studied without L their config-urations of power also being studied‘. Pritchard and Morgan argue that ‗whilst colonialism may have been rejected economically, it continues to exert cultural power in terms of how [for example] tourism imagery constructs peoples and places‘ (Britton 1979, together with others, cited in Pritchard and Morgan 2001). As Ateljevic and Doorne (2002, p. 650)

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EKO NURSANTY contend: ‗this shift reflects a progressive perpetuation of Western ideology embedded in the power structures of global production and consumption. The so-called crisis of representation and (re)construction of the Other‘. With reference to the Arabian Gulf, there are still political movements and scholars who contend that the best approach to deal with the ‗situation in the Middle East‘ (as if there was only a single issue involved) is re-colonization for the sake of securing the world energy supply. As illustrated at length in Said‘s (1981) Covering Islam, political discourse, reporting in the press and the opinion of ‗experts‘ has a tremendous impact on the way in which the West thinks about the East. As a starting point, it is said that, in a world that has become far too complex and varied, the media, politicians and ‗experts‘ oversimplify reality, for ‗ease and instant generalizations‘ (Said 1981, p. xii). The Orient, and particularly Islamic societies, have suffered from this for a long time, and in recent years it has taken centre stage in world politics: At present, ‗Islam‘ and ‗the West‘ have taken on a powerful new urgency everywhere [now perhaps more so than in the 1970s, when Said wrote his book]. And we must note immediately that it is always the West, and not Christianity, that seems pitted against Islam. Why? Because the assumption is that whereas ‗the West‘ is greater than and has surpassed the stage of Christianity, its principle religion, the world of Islam – its varied societies, histories, and languages notwithstanding – is still mired in religion, primitivity and backwardness. Therefore, the West is modern, greater than the sum of its parts, full of enriching contradictions and yet always ‗Western‘ in its cultural identity; the world of Islam, on the other hand, is no more than ‗Islam‘, reducible to a small number of unchanging characteristics despite the appearance of contradictions and experiences of variety that seem on the surface to be as plentiful as those in the West. (Said 1981, p. 10) Indeed, with the increase in trade, travel and tourism, global connectedness and the spread of international media, Said‘s alternative approach opposing polemics, seems to have gained ground since the mid-1970s. CNN or the National Geographic Channel covering the Hajj pilgrimage in Mecca, or insightful articles such as ‗Kingdom on Edge: Saudi Arabia‘ in National Geographic (Viviano 2003), one hopes would help in refining public opinion. At the Sheikh Rashid terminal of Dubai International Airport – a glittering temple of Ali Baba eclecticism and gateway to this 1, 500-squaremile [less than 4, 000 square kilometres] principality on the Persian Gulf – a visitor steps onto a carpet patterned after wind-ruffled desert sand, passes goldtone replicas of palm trees and continues past a shoptill-you-drop duty-free store where one can buy a bar of gold or a raffle ticket for a Maserati. A few steps away stands the special departure gate for Hajj pilgrims en route to Mecca. They have their own Starbucks counter. Beyond the terminal lies a startling skyline: high-rise hotels and office buildings of stainless steel and blue glass springing straight out of the desert, the backdrop to a waterfront where wooden dhows laden with Indian teak and spices from Zanzibar sail out of antiquity. Only ten minutes away, in the mind-numbing vastness of Deira City Centre, Dubai‘s largest suburbanstyle shopping mall [at the time], children in traditional Arab robes lose themselves in American video games. Veiled women, swathed in billowing black and sporting gold bracelets and diamonds, shop designer boutiques.

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Figure 21: Dubai International airport. Source: (Hellier, 2010)

This process of growth started in the early 1980s, when Dubai became a popular refuelling station on airline routes between Europe and Asia. The Dubai government then made a conscious decision to build a large-scale resort hotel, outside Dubai, beyond Jebel Ali port, in the empty desert along the coast (Jebel Ali resort). Now in front of Palm Jebel Ali and soon at the heart of the new Waterfront development, the resort, which was refurbished in 2003, attempted to draw a stop-over market into Dubai, by offering a one-stop sun-drenched holiday destination including a 9-hole golf course, riding stables, a shooting club and marina. This proved to be a lucrative decision and soon more resorts were built in the city‘s southern Jumeirah district, and the destination‘s attractiveness was enhanced by large, luxurious shopping malls and tours and safaris into the desert. Of course, with economic growth and expanded trade links there also came increased business travel to Dubai, creating the second pillar for a thriving tourism industry (F. Bardin, General Manager of Arabian Adventures and longstanding member of the Emirates Group management team, personal communication, 10 May 2003). The success of Dubai as a global brand, to date, has not been built on fancy brand communication strategies, but rather through bold actions with impact. Mega-projects such as islands in the shape of palm trees and the world map have attracted international media attention, but the Dubai Strategic Plan (Government of Dubai 2007) links these landmark developments to policies, and what have been called ‗strategic thrusts‘ across all aspects of civil society as they are needed to sustain Dubai as a global hub. The strategic plan includes a focused economic development plan based on sector prioritizations, aligned with business portfolio management, but with attention being paid to productivity, human capital, innovation and quality of life. This is linked to social development, which includes the preservation of national identity; the increased localization of jobs; improved schooling, health care and social services; raised awareness of

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EKO NURSANTY equality and acceptable working conditions for Dubai‘s workforce, and the attraction and retention of required expertise; plus an enriched cultural environment. In the areas of infrastructure, land and environment, the strategic plan aims for optimized land use and distribution while preserving natural resources; the provision of efficient energy, electricity and water supplies; an integrated road and transportation system; and a safe, clean, attractive and sustainable environment. Strategic thrusts in the area of security, justice and safety focus on law and order; the protection of rights and freedoms; the management of crises and disasters; access to justice and accuracy, clarity and efficiency in investigations and judgments; plus the protection of general safety, public health and quality of life. Finally, the government itself is aiming for excellence through a strategic and forward-looking focus; enhanced organizational structures and accountability; increased efficiency; enhanced responsiveness and customer service; and empowered and motivated public service employees. (Govers & Go, 2009)

Figure 22: Anara Tower in Dubai.

What is that thing in the middle at the top of the proposed Anara tower in Dubai? In most of the renderings it looks like a wind turbine integrated into the building, but when you look closely (image below) you can see that the hub is inhabited and that it is supported by the three blades. So now architects don't even bother with the real thing, they just borrow the imagery and put fake turbine-like things on the top of their buildings because they look cool. With 125 stories, Anara will have office space, 300 residential apartments, 250 hotel keys, and all sorts of other luxury amenities, such as pools, shops, and sky gardens every 27 floors. The design was inspired by the minaret, tall spires near Muslim mosques, with a purpose of being instantly recognizable worldwide. The developers are aiming for LEED silver certification. However it may never get off the draughting boards; evidently the real estate market in Dubai has crashed.

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The iconic landmark building, driven by social and commercial forces and the demand fornstant fame, it has to be both an amazing piece of surreal sculpture and understated insertion into the urban fabric.

4

ARCHITECTURE IN BUILDING TOURISM

Narcissism and Cosmo genesis Narcissism be a sign of a culture. It‘s the whole world. Venice was narcissistic, full of iconic buildings, and declined for 500 years, but was still the most pleasant city to live in for much of this time. It‘s important to realize the nuanced situation of today and see that opposite forces are producing the iconic building (decline of religion, rise of consumerism) plus a strange historical juncture of freedoms, creativity, the computer (as well as a collapse among the young of any commitment to traditions). ―Cosmogenesis‖ has a 150 year history as a word. It is picked up by Teilhard, de Chardin, Thomas Berry and Harvard physicists. It has come to mean the universe as a continuous, unfolding event (i.e. a genesis, by a cosmic process lasting 13.7 billion years). This is the shift in worldview that sees nature and culture as growing out of the narrative of the universe. In a global culture of conflict this narrative provides a possible direction and iconography that transcend national and sectarian interests. Several architects are involved at different levels.One can discern the beginnings of a shift in architecture that relates to a deep transformation going on in the sciences and in time will permeate all other areas of life. The new sciences of complexity – fractals, nonlinear dynamics, the new cosmology, selforganizing systems – have brought about the change in perspective. We have moved from a mechanistic view of the universe to one that is self-organizing at all levels, from the atom to the galaxy. Illuminated by the computer, this new worldview is paralleled by changes now occurring in architecture. The plurality of styles is a keynote. This reflects an underlying concern for the increasing pluralism of global cities. Growing out of post-modern complexity of the sixties and seventies – Jane Jacobs and Robert Venturi – is the complexity theory of the 1980s: Pluralism leads to conflict, the inclusion of opposite tastes and composite goals, a melting and boiling pot. Modernist purity and reduction could not handle this reality very well.

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EKO NURSANTY The Death of God, like the death of other major narratives over the last hundred years, may be confined to the west, especially visible now that the globe is experiencing the ultimate clash of civilizations. But fundamentalisms, either American or Other, are not living cultural movements however powerful they may be. They have produced no art, architecture or writing worth preserving, and the deeper problems remain. In spite of these problems, the question of whether the new paradigm exists in architecture is worth asking. What we‘re seeing may be a false start; the old paradigm of Modernism can easily reassert its hegemony, as it is lurking behind every Blair and Bush. But a wind is stirring architecture; at least it is the beginning of a shift in theory and practice. (Comstock, 2007).

The Iconic Building A new type of architecture has emerged in the last ten years: the iconic landmark building. Driven by social and commercial forces and the demand fornstant fame, it has to be both an amazing piece of surreal sculpture and understated insertion into the urban fabric. Following in the wake of Frankehry's New Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, architects such as Norman Foster, Eisenman, Enric Miralles, Zaha Hadid, Coop Himmelblau, Daniel Libeskind, Renzo Piano, Will Alsop and Rem Koolhaas have created a series of lively architectural icons that have courted publicity and controversy in equaleasure. Some are successful creations that fulfill their contradictory acquirements; others are Malapropistic metaphors that make the public wince.ith a mixture of wit, irreverence and sympathy, leading architecture critic Charles Jencks surveys the recent history of the iconic building and techno uses on ten key examples. These include Norman Foster's Swiss Re. building in London (known as 'The Gherkin'), Frank Gehry's Disney Concert Hall in Losngeles and Daniel Libeskind's project for Ground Zero in New York.;Short. (Jencks, 2005) An alluring image of the fluid, colliding metal forms of Frank Gehry's Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao would have predictably adorned the cover of Charles Jencks' The Iconic Building. Instead, Norman Foster's Swiss Re tower rises from a launching pad, with rockets firing and smoke billowing. The fabricated image effectively reflects Jencks' smart, accessible writing as he explores the rise and current developments of the iconic building, as well as the architects behind the trend. The well-known success of Gehry's Guggenheim in revitalizing a region and attracting millions of tourists has created what is called the "Bilbao Effect." Other cities desire an icon of their own, to put them on the map and bring in tourist dollars, and corporations wish to create and occupy an instant, world-famous landmark. Since the completion of Bilbao in 1997, numerous attempts at landmark buildings have followed, designed by architects including Foster, Daniel Libeskind, Rem Koolhaas, Santiago Calatrava and Peter Eisenman. Some have been successful, even superlative, in the critics' and public's eyes, while many have been considered failures or mere one-liners. Jencks explores not only what sets them apart, but also why it is worthwhile to look beyond the initial splash and media hype to develop standards for judging and designing this potentially enduring building type. (Klostermann, 2006)

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Figure 23: Madelon Vriesendorp’s metaphorical analysis of the critical reactions to Frank Gehry’s Guggenheim in Bilbao include a fish, a sequined mermaid, a swan, a duck, a window box and a Constructivist artichoke. Photo: © Charles Jencks The Iconic Building, Rizzoli. International Publications, Inc., 2005

The iconic building shares certain aspects both with an iconic object, such as a Byzantine painting of Jesus, and the philosophical definition of an icon, that is, a sign with some factor in common with the thing it represents. On the one hand, to become iconic a building must provide a new and condensed image, be high in figural shape or gestalt, and stand out from the city. On the other hand, to become powerful it must be reminiscent in some ways of unlikely but important metaphors and be a symbol fit to be worshipped, a hard task in a secular society. Best examples? The first post-war icon was the little church at Ronchamp by Le Corbusier. This building set the standard for all subsequent work in the genre. Other recent ones I could mention include Daniel Libeskind (Imperial War Museum, North Manchester;

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EKO NURSANTY Jewish Museum, Berlin), Norman Foster (Swiss Re headquarters, London), Frank Gehry (New Guggenheim Museum, Bilbao; Walt Disney Concert Hall, Los Angeles) When walking in an older (by American standards) city like Philadelphia one feels a sense of warmth and safety from the surrounding architecture. The buildings lining the streets are constructed on a human scale and concerned with how they fit in with their neighbors. Iconic buildings by contrast, seem to care much less for the pedestrian and the surrounding architecture and more for their impact on a skyline or an observer flying in on a 747. The architectural fabric is the last thing the iconic architect considers, if at all; which is why society should demand more of them. It is not to say they can‘t do it, or there is an impossible contradiction between iconic building and city. Rather they tend to be opposites, and so need conscious reconciliation.

Sydney The Opera House: The Iconic Building Case The Sydney Opera House is a masterpiece of late modern architecture and an iconic building of the 20th century. It is admired internationally and treasured by the people of Australia. Created by an architect who had been an avid sailor and understood the sea, the Sydney Opera House inhabits the world-famous maritime location on Sydney Harbour with such grace that it appears that the building belongs there naturally. The massive concrete sculptural shells that form the Sydney Opera House‘s roof appear like billowing sails fi lled by the sea winds with the sunlight and cloud shadows playing across their shining white surfaces. As its Danish architect Jørn Utzon envisaged, it is like a Gothic cathedral that people will never tire of and ‗never be fi nished with‘ (Utzon 1965a: 49). The Sydney Opera House represents a rare and outstanding architectural achievement: structural engineering that stretched the boundaries of the possible and sculptural architectural forms that raise the human spirit. It not only represents the masterwork of Utzon but also the exceptional collaborative achievements of engineers, building contractors and other architects. The Sydney Opera House is unique as a great building of the world that functions as a world-class performing arts centre, a great urban sculpture and a public venue for community activities and tourism. This monumental building has become a symbol of its city and the Australian nation. The Sydney Opera House ‗is not a simple entity but alive with citizens and urbanity‘ (Domicelj 2005). The outstanding natural beauty of the setting of the Sydney Opera House is intrinsic to its signifi cance. The Sydney Opera House is situated at the tip of a prominent peninsula projecting into Sydney Harbour (known as Bennelong Point) and within close proximity to the Royal Botanic Gardens and the world famous Sydney Harbour Bridge. Bennelong Point is flanked by Sydney Cove, Farm Cove and Macquarie Street (Figures 16).

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Figure 24: Bennelong Point is flanked by Sydney Cove, Farm Cove and Macquarie Street.

Source: (Commonwealth of Australia, 2006) These sites saw the fi rst settlement, farming and governing endeavours of the colony in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Known as ‗Jubgalee‘ by the traditional Aboriginal custodians (the Cadigal people), Bennelong Point was a meeting place of Aboriginal and European people during the early years of the colony. The Sydney Opera House is an exceptional building composition. Its architectural form comprises three groups of interlocking vaulted ‗shells‘, set upon a vast terraced platform (‗the podium‘) and surrounded by terrace areas that function as pedestrian concourses (see Figure 1.4). The shells are faced in glazed off-white tiles while the podium is clad in earth-toned, reconstituted granite panels. The two main halls are arranged side by side, oriented north-south with their axes slightly inclined. The auditoria are carved out of the high north end of the podium so that they face south, towards the city, with the stage areas positioned between them and the entrance foyers. The north and south ends of the shells are hung with topaz glass walls that project diagonally outwards to form foyers, offering views from inside and outside. The tallest shell reaches the height of a 20-storey building above the water. The shell structures cover nearly two hectares and the whole site is nearly six hectares (Figure 17).

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Figure 25: The shell structures cover nearly two hectares and the whole site. Source: (Commonwealth of Australia, 2006)

The complex includes more than 1000 rooms, most of which are located within the podium, as are virtually all the technical functions of the performing arts centre. The public spaces and promenades have a majestic quality, endowed by powerful structural forms and enhanced by vistas across the harbour and the Royal Botanic Gardens (Kerr 2003: 32). Strolling along the open broadwalks surrounding the building, the public can experience the harbour setting of the Sydney Opera House, by day or night. The performing arts centre presents itself as an extraordinary sculpture in a magnificent city waterscape. Utzon envisaged that entering the Sydney Opera House would be a journey or transition, one that would intensify appreciation of the man-made performance landscape. For those who climb the stairs rising from the forecourt to the vast podium, the journey culminates on the top of a plateau where the audience meets the performers, in the ancient tradition of a procession culminating in a festival. Alternatively, those who enter via the covered lower concourse move upwards through the ‗austere, low-lit, linear spaces of the stairway and booking hall under concrete beams of unusual span and form‘ in a transition that resembles ‗passing from a low narthex or crypt to a grand Gothic cathedral—light, airy and with a tall sculptural rib vault above‘ (Utzon 2002: 9; Kerr 2003: 17).

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The Sydney Opera House does not operate solely as a venue for opera, but as a multi-purpose venue that hosts a wide range of performing arts and community activities. These include classical and contemporary music, ballet, opera, drama and dance, events for children, outdoor activities and functions of all kinds. It is used as a venue by a wide range of organizations including performing arts companies, commercial promoters, schools, community groups, corporations, individuals and government agencies. Since its opening in 1973 over 45 million people have attended more than 100 000 performances at the Sydney Opera House and it is estimated that well over 100 million people have visited the site. The Sydney Opera House was designed by Utzon and completed by Australian architects Hall Todd & Littlemore, with Peter Hall as the principal designer. The engineers were Ove Arup & Partners and the building contractors were Civil & Civic for stage 1 and the Hornibrook Group for stages 2 and 3 (known as M.R. Hornibrook for stage 2). Utzon was re-engaged in 1999 to design and oversee the future evolution of the Sydney Opera House.

Heritage Tourism The National Trust defines cultural heritage tourism as traveling to experience the places, artifacts and activities that authentically represent the stories and people of the past and present. It includes cultural, historic and natural resources. The Heritage Tourism Program provides assistance ranging from how-to cultural heritage tourism publications to consulting services tailored to meet the needs of individual clients. The National Trust for Historic Preservation's Heritage Tourism Program provides fee-forservice assistance in heritage tourism development, management, and marketing. The staff also works at the national level to track national trends, provides how-to training tools and programs, and advocates for increased

Figure 26: Heritage Tourism in Semarang, Indonesia.

national support for heritage tourism. Through years of experience the Heritage Tourism Program has developed five guiding principles for successful and sustainable cultural heritage tourism development as well as four steps for getting started. These principles and steps have been adopted broadly across the United States and are also being used in Canada and several other international destinations. These principles and steps serve as the foundation of all of the work of the Heritage Tourism Program. (preservationnation.org, 2011).

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EKO NURSANTY Five Principles for Succesful and Suistainable Cultural Heritage Tourism. (preservationnation.org, 2011) Make the most of your opportunities for cultural heritage tourism by following the National Trust for Historic Preservation's five basic principles. Follow these principles and you‘ll avoid many difficulties that could otherwise arise when culture, heritage and tourism become partners.

Collaborate.

Much more can be accomplished by working together than by working alone. Successful cultural heritage tourism programs bring together partners who may not have worked together in the past. Building partnerships is essential, not just because they help develop local support, but also because tourism demands resources that no single organization can supply. Its success depends on the active participation of political leaders, business leaders, operators of tourist sites, artists and craftspeople, hotel/motel operators, and many other people and groups. Regional partnerships are also useful to cultural heritage tourism efforts. Cooperating in a regional arrangement lets you develop regional themes, pool resources, save money and expand your marketing potential. Those resources include not only money for marketing campaigns, for example, but also facilities (accommodations for travelers, say) or expertise in tourism, preservation, the arts or another area.

Find the Fit. Local priorities vary. So do local capabilities. In other words, local circumstances determine what your area needs to do and can do in cultural heritage tourism. Programs that succeed have widespread local acceptance and meet recognized local needs. They are also realistic, based on the talents of specific people as well as on specific attractions, accommodations, and sources of support and enthusiasm. One of the reasons cultural heritage tourism is on the rise in the United Figure 27: Heritage Tourism in Penang, Malaysia. States is that travelers are seeking out experiences that are distinctive, not homogenized. They want to get the feel of a very particular place or time. You can supply that experience, and benefit in the process—but only if your cultural heritage tourism program is firmly grounded in local circumstances. Base your cultural heritage tourism program on what is appropriate and sustainable for your area.  Do the residents of your area want tourism?  Why do they want it?  Are there certain times of year or certain places they do NOT want to share?  How will tourism revenues improve life in your area and affect services such as fire and police protection?  What is the maximum number of cars or buses your area can handle? On roads? In parking lots?

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 Can you accommodate group tours? Do sites accommodate at least forty people at once with amenities such as restrooms, snacks, and a seating area?  Can you accommodate visitors with disabilities or special needs?

Make Sites and Programs Come Alive. The human drama of history is what visitors want to discover, not just names and dates. Interpreting sites is important, and so is making the message creative and exciting. Find ways to engage as many of the visitor‘s five senses as you can, as the more visitors are involved, the more they will retain. On average, visitors will remember:  10% of what they HEAR  30% of what they READ  50% of what they SEE  90% of what they DO Focus on Quality and Authenticity. The true story of your area is the one worth telling. The story of the authentic contributions previous generations have made to the history and culture of where you live is the one that will interest visitors, because that is what distinguishes your area from every other place on earth. It‘s authenticity that adds real value and appeal. Your area is unique, and its special charm is what will draw visitors. By doing the job right—by focusing on authenticity and quality—you give your area the edge. Preserve and Protect. As a good look around almost any city or town will show, people are often tempted to provide a quick fix of ―band-aid‖ solution—to cover up an old storefront inexpensively, for example, rather than to restore it. But when your historic and cultural assets are at the heart of your plans to develop tourism, it‘s essential to protect them for the long term. Hearts break when irreplaceable structures are destroyed or damaged beyond repair, instead of preserved and protected as they deserve. A plaque pointing out ―on this site a great building once stood‖ can‘t tell that story. Equally tragic is the loss of traditions: a way of crafting wood or farming, of celebrating holidays or feasting on ―old world‖ cuisine. The preservation and perpetuation of traditions is important to telling the story of the people who settled the land. By protecting the buildings, landscape or special places and qualities that attract visitors, you safeguard the future. Cultural heritage tourism (or just heritage tourism or diaspora tourism) is a branch of tourism oriented towards the cultural heritage of the location where tourism is occurring. The National Trust for Historic Preservation in the United States defines heritage tourism as ―travelling to experience the places and activities that authentically represent the stories and people of the past," and cultural heritage tourism is defined as ―travelling to experience the places and activities that authentically represent the stories and people of the past and present." Culture has always been a major object of travel, as the development of the Grand Tour from the 16th century onwards attests. In the 20th century, some people have claimed, culture ceased to be the objective of tourism: tourism is now culture. Cultural attractions play an important role in tourism at all levels, from the global highlights of world culture to attractions that underpin local identities. (Richards, 1996). According to the Weiler and Hall, culture, heritage and the arts have long contributed to appeal of tourist destination. However, in recent years ‗culture‘ has been rediscovered as an important marketing tool to attract those travellers with special interests in heritage and arts. According to the Hollinshead, cultural heritage tourism defines as

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EKO NURSANTY cultural heritage tourism is the fastest growing segment of the tourism industry because there is a trend toward an increase specialization among tourists. This trend is evident in the rise in the volume of tourists who seek adventure, culture, history, archaeology and interaction with local people. Cultural heritage tourism is important for various reasons; it has a positive economic and social impact, it establishes and reinforces identity, it helps preserve the cultural heritage, with culture as an instrument it facilitates harmony and understanding among people, it supports culture and helps renew tourism (Richards, 1996). Putangina Cultural heritage tourism has a number of objectives that must be met within the context of sustainable development such as; the conservation of cultural resources, accurate interpretation of resources, authentic visitors experience, and the stimulation of the earned revenues of cultural resources. We can see, therefore, that cultural heritage tourism is not only concerned with identification, management and protection of the heritage values but it must also be involved in understanding the impact of tourism on communities and regions, achieving economic and social benefits, providing financial resources for protection, as well as marketing and promotion. (J. M. Fladmark, 1994) Heritage tourism involves visiting historical or industrial sites that may include old canals, railways, battlegrounds, etc. The overall purpose is to gain an appreciation of the past. It also refers to the marketing of a location to members of a diaspora who have distant family roots there. The Heritage Tourism Program provides consulting assistance in heritage tourism development, management and marketing. The program has developed a nationwide network of partners and resources - an unparalleled benefit to anyone seeking to enhance or develop heritage tourism programs. The program staff includes national leaders in the field of heritage tourism with extensive experience at the local, state and national level. In addition to our core staff, the Heritage Tourism Program taps into a network of specialized national experts to create project teams to match the needs of our clients. No other heritage tourism consulting firm offers our unique blend of extensive hands-on heritage tourism experience at the local level combined with a national perspective on cutting edge trends and insights into the latest funding opportunities for cultural heritage tourism.

Marketing Heritage Marketing a heritage product, service or brand might not consider appropriate is profit, because the motive for marketing may be, for example, to enable the regeneration of a locality, conservation of a landscape, preservation of a property or for many other reasons, rather than to generate a profit in the commercial sense. However, some not-forprofit organizations are comfortable with the fact that they must create a ‗surplus‘ in order to survive/grow, which is effectively the same as making a profit and, indeed, may be generated from the same types of activities performed by commercial organizations, such as operating shops, bars and restaurants alongside the (possibly free entry) heritage site or attraction. In the context of the marketing of food and drink connected with one or more aspects of heritage, I cannot think of a single example where this product is marketed for reasons other than commercial gain, or profitmaking. (Misiura, 2006) The essence of the heritage marketing process, then, is to find out what the customer wants and to deliver it, subject to any constraints that might prevail, such as the need to protect parts of a heritage site or historic property because of the increased wear and tear resulting from the extra footfall stimulated through marketing initiatives. This example is typical of the balance that many heritage providers must achieve, particularly in relation to the built environment, i.e., the marketing activities should be designed to stimulate demand and satisfy the consumer but not to the detriment of

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that which needs to be preserved for future generations. Similarly, food and drink that is marketed because of an aspect of heritage (such as the quality of the water in the Scottish Highlands that gives Scotch Whisky a distinct flavour) must not ultimately be aimed at the mass market but at niche market(s) in order to retain a degree of exclusivity and ‗premiumness‘. Profit can be made from extra margins that can be levied on these types of goods and, in the long run, repeat purchase and advocacy by consumers that creates brand loyalty. In short, ‗the aim of marketing is to know and understand the customer so well that the product or service fits him/her but allows the organization to achieve its goals‘ (Dibb and Simkin, 2002). The customer therefore will be central to our understanding of heritage marketing as we explore how the past is reflected in the present for all types of advantage, commercial and non-commercial or quantitative and qualitative. In every country social factors change over time. This creates dynamism in the market – ever-moving goal posts on which the heritage marketer must keep a watchful eye. Further to this, there is an increasing desire by consumers in many countries to live in the countryside, either that of their own country or of other nations. The aspiration to live in a ‗period property‘ has been a trend in many European countries for several years and looks as if it will continue as consumers perceive this to be one of the factors in their quality of life index. Lowenthal‘s view in (Lowenthal, 1996), even though he was writing almost a decade ago, confirms that there is definitely an upward trend, both in people appreciating that heritage is important at one level and, at another, that significant strides are being made not to lose aspects of the past (through redevelopment, theft and vandalism) by a variety of different stakeholder groups, some profit motivated, others not. In 2000, the UK government under the auspices of the Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport (the government department largely responsible for the heritage of England, Wales and Northern Ireland, which is largely administered by English Heritage) and the Secretary of State for the Environment, Transport and the Regions, created an ‗Historic Environment Steering Group‘ (there were 20 members from diverse backgrounds) chaired by Sir Neil Cossons (who was also the Chair of English Heritage at the time), in order to lead a review of policies relating to the historic environment of England. The result was a publication entitled Power of Place: The Future of the Historic Environment (2000). The research and consultation process was both wide-ranging (in terms of aspects of heritage considered and respondent profiles) and extensive. MORI (the market research agency) were used for the qualitative aspects of investigation, namely to determine peoples‘ attitudes to the historic environment and of the value they place upon it. Five main messages were advocated as a result of the findings: 1. Most people place a high value on the historic environment. 87 per cent think it is right that there should be public funding to preserve it. 85 per cent think it is important in the regeneration of towns and cities. 77 per cent disagree that too much is preserved. It is seen as a major contributor to the quality of life. 2. Because people care about their environment, they want to be involved in decisions affecting it, and, in a multicultural society, everybody‘s heritage needs to be recognized. 3. The historic environment is seen by most people as a totality. They value places, not just a series of individual sites and buildings; what people care about is the whole of their environment – this has implications for the way we identify and value significance.

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EKO NURSANTY 4. Everyone has a part to play in caring for the historic environment. Central and local government are critical; so too are amenity societies, community groups, owners, developers, professionals in the field, schools and universities – more will be achieved if we work together in partnership. 5. Everything rests on sound knowledge and understanding. Good history is history that is based on thorough research and is tested and refined through open debate; it accommodates multiple narratives and takes account of the values people place on their surroundings. MORI‘s survey in (Misiura, 2006. p.43) of 3000 people in England, which was part of the research process, presented the following conclusions: ● 98 per cent think that all schoolchildren should be given the opportunity to find out about England‘s historic environment. ● 96 per cent think that the historic environment is important to teach them about the past ; ● 88 per cent think that it is important in creating jobs and boosting the economy (the regeneration or multiplier effects); ● 87 per cent think that it is right that there should be public funding to preserve it; ● 85 per cent think that it is important in promoting regeneration in towns and cities; ● 77 per cent disagree that we preserve too much; ● 76 per cent think that their own lives are richer for having the opportunity to visit or see it; ● 75 per cent think that the best of our post-war building should be preserved, rising to 95 per cent of the 16–24 age group.

Categories of Heritage and Tourism We often talk of ‗heritage‘, but to what are we specifi cally referring? Heritage is anything transmitted from the past, especially:  original cultural and natural material;  the built environment;  the archaeological resource;  the intangible heritage;  the natural heritage, that ‗heritage‘ is perceived by our multicultural society as having a quality or signifi cance that makes it worth preserving for its own sake and for the appreciation of current and future generations. The UK‘s heritage as such is a major contributor to the country‘s tourism industry. Again, ‗tourism‘ needs some defining. A tourist visit is usually defi ned as a trip away from the traveller‘s normal place of residence lasting at least 24 hours or an overnight. There can be many reasons or motivations for the visit. These are generally categorised as:  business;  holiday inclusive (i.e. a packaged trip);  holiday independent;  VFR (visiting friends and relatives);

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 study;  other (including medical visits, pilgrimages, etc). These categories are the ‗main purpose of visit‘. There is nothing to preclude a business visitor spending part of a visit indulging in heritage-related activities, so all categories are relevant to the heritage. A day visit is defined as a trip away from the place of normal residence for a minimum of three hours, excluding regular trips such as to one‘s place of work. Extended shopping expeditions count as day visits – especially where shopping is a leisure activity rather than just a means of acquiring necessary goods. As with tourist visits, day visits may have multiple motivations. (Nurick, 2000) Table 1:Selected Tourism Assets in UK. Source: (Nurick, 2000)

For instance, it is possible to classify tourist destinations on several independent measures, such as:  heritage importance;  visitor pressure – number of visits in relation to capacity to accommodate visits without degradation;  regional tourism – level of development of tourism in the region or locality;  access defi cit – potential for improving intellectual and physical access to the asset and knowledge about it; purpose-built – extent to which the asset and/or site (including interpretative facilities) was built to serve as a tourist asset.

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Figure 28: Tourism Assets in A Conceptual Space. Source: (Nurick, 2000)

This illustrates the variety of competing tourist destinations, along with the challenges confronting each of them. Stonehenge, for instance, is a heritage site of huge importance, but it suffers from access diffi culties and visitor pressure. Bluewater, at the other extreme, has high numbers of visitors, who, due to good access, create only average pressure; at the same time, it has little or no heritage value. The primary purpose of this classification was to clarify the competing claims for support of hugely diverse attractions, but it can also provide input into benchmarking processes by identifying non-obvious comparators (attractions that are close together on the chart even if they appear very different on the ground). Locum‘s analysis for the HLF revealed four key issues facing heritage tourism projects: access and inclusion, sustainability, competitiveness, and what we have called catalysis.

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Figure 29: The four key issues facing. Source: (Nurick, 2000)

Access and inclusion  Access is currently the key issue as far as national government is concerned. It includes everything to do with providing wider (more people), deeper (more detail) and richer (more enjoyable) access to all aspects of the cultural and natural heritage. Access also includes access in person and remotely (via old and new media, most importantly in future via the internet and specialised broadband inks), and access for the disabled – which itself includes things such as designing websites to be accessible to the print-handicapped, and access for people from other cultural backgrounds.  Inclusion overlaps with access: paying due attention to social groups that might not ordinarily benefi t from a heritage initiative, not least minority ethnic groups.  Education means schools and colleges and all other aspects of formal education. Learning and lifelong learning refer to all aspects of informal education and learning for oneself, at all ages. Information and communications technology is of growing importance in providing wider, deeper and richer access to many aspects of the heritage and allowing it to be seen in wider and more varied contexts. (Nurick, 2000) Sustainability Sustainability can be looked at from the outside – the whole question of ‗sustainable tourism‘ – or the inside: how can a single attraction or other destination best assure its future?

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EKO NURSANTY The continued motivation of tourism by both natural and cultural heritage assets depends upon their being protected from the possible negative impacts of visitors. That is easy to say, but hard to apply in practice. The International Council on Monuments and Sites (ICOMOS), however, has put forward ‗seven principles of sustainable tourism‘. None of these principles mentions natural or cultural heritage specifi cally, although they are to some extent implicit in the terms ‗environment‘, ‗community‘ and ‗place‘. Nevertheless, they are useful in encouraging explicit consideration of long-term versus short-term, of environmental (and heritage) conservation versus economic development, and of change versus stagnation. Two of the principles read:  The relationship between tourism and the environment must be managed so that it is sustainable in the long term. Tourism must not be allowed to damage the resource, prejudice its future enjoyment or bring unacceptable impact.  In any location, harmony must be sought between the needs of the visitor, the place and the host community. These principles conceptualise sustainability in tourism in terms of balance between tourism and the natural environment, harmony between resident and guest. Such principles are valuable, but destination managers need a more strategically and commercially focused approach to the question of sustainability, as shown in the diagram:  Regeneration: ‗heritage‘ should not be considered in isolation, but in the larger social and economic context.  Conservation: protection of the resource against degradation, deterioration and damage.  Product renewal and enhancement, in the case of many heritage based attractions, to ensure that (at a minimum) they remain attractive and accessible, and preferably that access (of all kinds) improves over time. The concept applies not only to single attractions, but also to wider destinations such as country parks and town centres.  Income streams are needed to cover the continuing costs of conservation and renewal to assure the long-term future of the resource.  Multiple uses of a heritage resource and/or its associated facilities help both to bind the resource into a support network and to generate additional income streams.  Repeat visits – encouraged by multiple uses and strong product renewal – are vital to many heritage destinations. Even destinations that reach maximum capacity on many days can benefit from additional repeat visits at non-peak times; there are comparatively few destinations for which this is not the case. (Nurick, 2000) Catalysis This covers the whole area of partnerships, fund-raising, and value for money. Partnerships are key. A heritage tourism project might involve – directly –the organisation that owns or cares for the heritage asset, local government, bodies such as the HLF and English Heritage, a regional museums service, a regional development agency, the Church of England, a tourist board, private sector organisations, and voluntary organisations. Indirectly, European and international organisations might also be involved. Even small projects usually involve several organisations and benefit from an explicit partnership-building approach which may offer further longer-term benefits. Value for money must be a major consideration in all expenditure of Lottery and public funds. The best projects are catalysts that maximise value for money by delivering multiple objectives to multiple organisations.

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Return on investment is a measure of value for money. Inevitably, much or all of the ‗return‘ from an ‗investment‘ in the form of a grant will be hard to quantify, but nevertheless there are some practicable measures which, properly interpreted, are better than nothing. Multiple agendas are an inevitable issue in partnerships of the kind being considered here, because no two organisations involved in a project will have precisely the same objectives. Catalysis issues also apply in multiple contexts. There are local, regional, national, European and international policy and planning contexts; there is the heritage and conservation context; there is the tourism and visitor attraction context; and so on. (Nurick, 2000) Competitiveness Competitiveness is in some ways an aspect of sustainability, but it is diverse and important enough to be a key issue in itself. Important aspects include the following:  Quality of the overall visitor experience (i.e. not just the individual attraction but the wider destination and the whole bundle of products and services that go to make up a visit).  Standards and benchmarking which enable attractions, destinations and local or regional authorities to assess their performance on visitor satisfaction and a wide range of other measures which can feed into management and marketing to improve quality and strengthen competitiveness.  Effective marketing includes, but is much more than merely, advertising and promotion. It has become essential to competitiveness in the modern visitor market, where heritage destinations face an ever wider range of competitors for the leisure pound.  Management in this context includes not merely the smooth running of the operation, but requires the continual development of the organisation‘s human resources, processes and internal systems.  Last but not least comes visitor satisfaction. In today‘s tourism market, the product is experience itself. Like catalysis, competitiveness exists in multiple contexts. Each tourist destination competes with other destinations in the vicinity; with similar destinations further afi eld; and with other uses of people‘s leisure time and money. Likewise, each region or country is competing with others. And, of course, every project competes with other projects for funding. At the same time, however, competitiveness must usually be built on cooperation. Destinations may be competing with each other in one context and cooperating in another. When tourists go to Portsmouth, for instance, there are several museums competing for their visits – but the same museums cooperate with each other and with other organisations to market Portsmouth as a whole. Museums may compete with each other to attract visitors while cooperating in a benchmarking programme. (Nurick, 2000) As long as there are heritage destinations there will be tourists, and lots of them. But as the number of ways for people to spend their free time increases daily, competition to traditional attractions and even the natural heritage grows, potentially threatening their economic well-being. Heritage attractions are no different from other tourist destinations in that they must plan carefully for all aspects of their operation. As little as possible should be left to chance. No one can predict the future, but equally anyone can take measures to reduce uncertainty. The right advice, from external bodies and fellow destination operators alike, coupled with the right development, operational and financial planning, maximises the chance of a successful future, and is increasingly vital to a destination‘s prospects of support from public, private or voluntary sector funding sources.

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The relationship between tourism and the environment must be managed so that it is sustainable in the long term.

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ARCHITECTURE PART OF CITY TOURISM

Landscape Meaning for City Tourism Landscape is not merely the lay of the land or a type of painting but a way in which to conceive of place. The term ―landscape‖ is contested in geography because, according to Cosgrove (1984, p. 13), it is ―an imprecise and ambiguous concept.‖ Clearly landscape is not only a place, or a collection of things in a prescribed area, but also a way in which to conceive of place—it is the canvas on which the social constructions of place are reified in order to create and maintain the identity of a place. Landscape is not static, but active and ever changing. Each generation of society manipulates their landscape to represent their ideas and identity which results in a palimpsest of continually overlaid landscapes. As a result, landscapes must not be ―wrenched out of their context of time and space‖ (Cosgrove 1989, p.127) but rather read as pages of a cultural text, each distinctive from the next. Landscape is the background of our collective existence underscoring our identity (Jackson 1984). Within the landscape, identity is manifested in physical symbols. Architectural style, urban design, statuary and public spaces are all infused with the identity of a people. These symbols ―serve the purpose of reproducing cultural norms and establishing the values of dominant groups across all of a society‖ (Cosgrove 1989, p. 125). In other words, societies construct

Figure 30: Landscape is a way in which to conceive of place.

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symbols to represent how they understand themselves (Harvey 1979). Although places are social constructions and home, nation, and region are all subjective ideas existing in social discourse, places, with their unique and distinctive qualities, help to create an identity for society. Places are made real through the visual. Abstract notions, such as that of nationhood, only become real when the iconography of nationhood is created, given meaning and peppered throughout the landscape. Buildings, memorials, statues, and painted representations of the national landscape are more than mere constructions of a society, but rather they are symbols of social identity, created and maintained to perpetuate the idea of place. Place is shown to be real by real representations of it.

Figure 31: Theoretical Synthesis of Landscape, Place and Identity. Source: (Huff, 2008)

Linking landscape and place leads to a greater awareness of the concept of landscape as a manifestation of ideology, culture, and identity. Analysis of landscapes as representations of local, regional, national, and supranational identity forces one to think about our constructions of identity around historically contingent places such as regions and nations. Landscapes cannot be segmented and calculated, but their construction, orientation, preservation, and deconstruction aid in our understanding of the relationship between humans and place. It has been said that the relationship between identity and territory is tenuous in the modern age as places are commodified and sold in a timespace compressed world. Nevertheless, identity is closely related to the territory of a society, as the culture and identity of a society is manifested and perpetuated in its landscape. Landscapes are the concrete manifestations of conceptions of place and as such, they represent the cultural values of a group or people.

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EKO NURSANTY City as A Tourist Places The study of tourist precincts is a study of particular space(s) in the city. Some of these spaces, particularly in large cities, form part of the everyday urban fabric where tourists and locals share communal space for purposes embedded into the urban lexicon of experience, such as a hub for transport, a location for shopping or a venue for dining. Other precincts purposively stand apart from the everyday experience of the city with the potential to create Fordist type reproductions of space ( Judd, 1995 ). It is likely that most ‗ tourism ‘ precincts locate themselves Figure 32: City as tourist place in Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam.

somewhere between the two and each have the potential to ‗ create ‘ experience for their visitors – what we have called elsewhere, the existential ‗ feel ‘ of the space ( Hayllar & Griffin, 2005 ). The notion of what constitutes ‗ space ‘ and ‗ place ‘ is contested (see Relph, 1976; Lefebvre, 1991; Suvantola, 2002; Creswell, 2004 ). Couclelis (1992) in Suvantola (2002) identifi ed fi ve different types of spaces: mathematical, physical, socio-economic, behavioural and experiential.  Mathematical space reflects ideas relating to the precise measurement of relations in space –size, distance, scale and the like.  Physical space is more labile and considers the entire universe as ‗ space ‘ . However, physical space has a relation to mathematical space as its conceptualization is both our common sense understanding of space (the ‗ space ‘ around us), and it is positional or relativist – we are located in a particular space relative to other spaces. Socio-economic space is concerned with the spatial analysis of regions and the socio-economic phenomena embedded within them. Here, too, space is quantifi able by the comparative value of space according to, (e.g., its utility, position and location).  Behavioural space focuses on the ways in which we perceive and use space. In understanding this type of space, the concern is with investigating the ways behaviour is affected, through our perceptions, when the space changes. For example, a reconfiguration in the aspect of a precinct may lead to changes in behaviour. Here the emphasis is on measuring or analyzing the impact of such change – a potentially problematic construct.  Finally, experiential space is the use of space as lived and experienced. Of the five different types of space, it is perhaps the least quantifiable yet arguably the most important in respect of the tourist experience. It is

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within the experiential realm that meaning is applied to space through our experiencing of it. Theoretically, space imbued with meaning becomes place. City spaces are a pastiche of conflicting and complementary forms. They are modern and ageing. They are a part of, and apart from, the city. They are confined and open, colourful and plain, commonplace and unique. They are organic and highly structured. They serve different purposes and perform a range of functional roles. However, underpinning these diverse expressions of a distinctly organized city space, is their fundamental human dimension. They are human spaces, where visitors and locals ‗ create ‘ places for civil interaction – to meet, eat, amble, spectate, shop, view or to simply pass time. Tourism, from both supply and demand perspectives, was not dispersed evenly and seamlessly throughout the city but rather was concentrated into relatively small, quite distinctive geographic areas – precincts – and the tourist ‘ s experience was most commonly one of moving between these precincts in search of the city ‘ s highlights. Precincts were thus fundamental to understanding the phenomenon of urban tourism, but on reflection we appeared to know little about these places and what made them work, for tourists and other stakeholders within the city. (Hayllar, Griffin, & Edwards, 2008). Urban environments have for many years been amongst the most significant of all tourist destinations. As Karski (1990) notes: People with the means and inclination to do so have been drawn to towns and cities just to visit and experience a multiplicity of things to see and do. Pilgrims in the 14th century were urban tourists visiting cities like Canterbury. The historic Grand Tour of Europe, in the 18th and 19th centuries was essentially an urban experience for the rich, taking in more spectacular towns and cities, usually regional and national capitals. These were the melting pots of national culture, art, music, literature and of course magnificent architecture and urban design. It was the concentration, variety, and quality of these activities and attributes, that created their attraction and put certain towns and cities on the tourism map of the day (Karski,1990: 15 ).

Figure 33: 'The Pilgrims' Way started in Rome, European religious sites in Canterbury,25th May 1997. Source:(Culham College Institute 1997-9)

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Figure 34: The Pilgrimage to Canterbury. 1809-17. Etching and engraving by Louis Schiavonetti and James Heath after Thomas Stothard. Source: (Thomas Stothard. 17551834.)

The attraction of cities as tourist destinations, so ably described by Karski from an historical perspective, has continued into contemporary times. Law (1996) argues that cities have retained their central focus as a tourist destination because of their inherent scale, locational attributes and opportunities for diverse experiences. For example, they attract friends and relatives as they have naturally large populations and they draw visitors to their attractions because these are often much better developed than in other types of destination areas. As a consequence of their economic significance, cities often have large stocks of accommodation to serve business travellers which is underutilized at weekends and in summer holiday periods. Their related transport services and infrastructure such as airports and rail connections makes the destination accessible for both tourist and commercial purposes. In terms of the tourist experience, the diversity of a city provides opportunities for a range of visitors: older and better educated groups may be attracted by the cultural heritage of a city, while young people may be drawn to the entertainment, nightlife and major sporting events. For many it is not specific attractions but rather the experience of being in a city – the bright lights, the colour and movement, the atmosphere – that represents its fundamental appeal. Urban areas offer social, cultural, physical and aesthetic stages upon which tourist activity can be played out. However, these are stages shared with others who are the majority – it is the aesthetic and culture of the city and its residents which greet the visitor. This complex urban ‗ form ‘ shapes experience as visitors interact with: attractions and infrastructure generally developed for non-tourism purposes; local residents (and commuters) who are typically the majority users of these attractions and infrastructure; and the economic activity of the city which is largely unrelated to tourism.

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and TOURISM Identify Trends and Elaborate Their Profitability The Urban Tourism Context.

Ashworth (1989, 2003) was one of the first to identify the city as a significant setting for tourist activity. Prior to this relatively recent recognition, cities, his argument would suggest, were largely ignored by researchers despite their overwhelming importance for tourism. This historic legacy notwithstanding, there is an emerging, more contemporary body of work that has started to redress this imbalance (see Judd & Fainstein, 1999 ; Hoffman et al., 2003 ; Page & Hall, 2003 ). However, as research has started to better understand the phenomenon of urban tourism and the city as a tourist destination, further questions arise about the nature of the urban experience and, in particular, the use of specific spaces in the urban experience of visitors. While the city and its services provide the ‗ overlay ‘ for urban tourist activity, in most urban destinations tourist visitation tends to be Figure 35: The city as a significant setting for tourist activity. concentrated rather than dispersed. These points of concentration may include iconic sights, shopping areas, landmark cultural institutions or places of historical significance. However, where a number of attractions of similar or differing types aggregate alongside a range of tourism-related services, these areas take on a particular spatial, cultural, social and economic identity – now commonly (but not universally) recognized as a tourist precinct. As Stevenson (2003: 73) observed: Cities divide into geographically discrete precincts which rarely conform to impose administrative or political boundaries. Rather, they form around the activities of commerce, sociability, domesticity, and/or collective identity. The resulting precincts have a vitality and a ‗ look ‘ that marks each as unique. The study of urban tourism precincts has traditionally been approached from a geographic or urban planning perspective ( Stansfi eld & Rickert, 1970; Wall & Sinnott, 1980; Ashworth & de Haan, 1985; Law, 1985; Jansen-Verbeke, 1986 ; Meyer-Arendt, 1990 ). During the 1990s, while a major emphasis on a planning and geographic approach was evident ( Burtenshaw et al., 1991 ; Getz, 1993a, b ; Getz et al., 1994 ; Fagence, 1995; Pearce, 1998 ) other disciplinary perspectives began to emerge. An analysis of tourism precincts and their role in the lives of both locals and tourists from a sociological perspective was included in work by Mullins (1991) , Conforti (1996) and Chang et al. (1996) . McDonnell and Darcy (1998) raised the notion of tourism precincts functioning as part of the overall marketing strategy of destinations, while (Judd, 1995) developed ideas around the economic development role of precincts. In respect of economic development there have also been studies of what Judd and Fainstein (1999: 36) described as ‗ pure tourist spaces ‘ which have been carved out of urban decay. The festival marketplace ( Rowe & Stevenson, 1994 ) or the revitalized waterfront

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EKO NURSANTY development ( Craig-Smith, 1995 ) such as Harborplace (Baltimore) and Darling Harbour (Sydney) are typical of the genre. In the case of Baltimore, Judd and Fainstein (1999) argue that Harborplace is an enclave that separates and ‗ protects ‘ visitors from the crime, poverty and urban decay of the ‗ other ‘ Baltimore – the physical manifestation of the ‗ tourist bubble‘ ( Urry, 1990 ). Other critical perspectives include those examining the politics of precinct development ( Hall & Selwood, 1995 ), Searle and those offering cultural critiques ( Huxley, 1991 ). The extant research has also examined the activity of the tourist within the precinct such as their ‗ pathways ‘ through precincts, expenditure patterns and a range of socio-demographic characteristics (e.g. Masberg & Silverman, 1996 ; Beeho & Prentice, 1997 ; McIntosh & Prentice, 1999 ; Wickens, 2002 ). More recent approaches to understanding tourist experience have focused on examining the key attributes of a place and how these contribute to the quality of experience. Maitland and Newman (2004:339) , for example, sought to understand the desired experiences of those who are ‗ tempted to leave the well-worn paths and ‗ discover ‘ new areas ‘ . Drawing on Canter ‘ s Metaphor for Place ( Canter, 1977 ), Montgomery (2004) argued that a ‗ cultural quarter ‘ (a specifi c type of precinct) must possess an appropriate combination of activity, built form and meaning, and within this framework discusses specific attributes, for example, a strong night-time economy, active street frontages and legibility, that contribute most to their success.

Tourist Places for Peoples In most cities that attract tourists in significant numbers precincts are clearly observable phenomena. They are observable because they tend to possess distinctive characteristics that mark them out as places for tourists, even if the bulk of users are local residents. These characteristics maybe predominantly physical, relating to green space or architectural scale and style, or cultural, reflecting the dominance and influence of a particular ethnic community. Alternatively, distinctiveness may arise from the concentration of certain land use activities, such as restaurants and nightlife, shopping, museums and other cultural attractions, entertainment or sporting venues, or from the juxtaposition of the precinct to an attractive Figure 36: Tourist Place in The Peak, Hongkong. physical environment such as beach, harbour or riverfront. These all represent fairly superficial characteristics of precincts, but this is typically the way in which precincts have been described and categorized in the literature. The question that arises is whether this constitutes a useful way of categorizing urban tourism precincts from the perspective of understanding how they work and what might need to be done make them work better. (Griffin, Hayllar, & Edwards, 2008)

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A broad range of terms has been used to describe different types of urban tourism precincts. The various types of precincts identified and discussed in the literature as having some significance or relevance for tourism have included:         

recreational or tourism business districts; tourist shopping villages; historic or heritage precincts; ethnic precincts or quarters; cultural precincts or quarters; entertainment precincts; red-light districts or bohemian quarters; waterfront precincts; festival marketplaces. Most of the above categories of precinct rely on a concentration of a particular set of land uses within the area. One of the earliest characterizations of areas that could now be described as tourism precincts was ‗ recreational business districts ‘ ( Stansfield & Rickerts, 1970 ;Taylor, 1975 ), which emphasized a concentration of business activities intended to serve the particular needs of tourists and other recreationalists.

Getz (1993a) later used the term ‗ tourism business district ‘ to describe places characterized by fairly eclectic mixes of commercial activities, but all primarily geared to serving the needs of visitors Figure 37: Tourism business district in Macau. to a city rather than its residents. More narrowly, precincts which featured concentrations of touristoriented retail outlets have been described as ‗ tourist shopping villages ‘ ( Getz, 1993b ; Getz et al., 1994 ). Other studies have implicitly acknowledged that tourists are drawn to precincts which offer particular types of activities, whether or not these were originally intentionally provided to serve the needs of tourists. Pearce (1998) , for example, discussed the touristic functions of entertainment districts in Paris, as did Hannigan (1998) in the context of London. Ashworth et al. (1988), in their study of red-light districts in Western Europe, recognized the appeal that such places possessed for tourists, although such an appeal may not be without its contradictions and tensions. In exploring tourists ‘ perceptions of the King ‘ s Cross district of London, for example, Maitland and Newman (2004) discovered that the area ‘ s association with prostitution was one of the features that visitors least liked about it, but also recognized that this ‗ urban ― grit ‖ continues to contribute to the distinctive qualities of the area ‘ (p. 346). Other types of precinct rely more on a particular physical or sociocultural characteristic as a basis for their development into, and utility as, a

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EKO NURSANTY tourism precinct. Such characteristics make these places inherently appealing to tourists, and tourist-related economic activities may subsequently concentrate here in acknowledgement of that appeal. Often, these characteristics represent what is most distinctive, interesting or aesthetically appealing about the city in which the precinct is located. Most notably, much attention has been devoted to historic or heritage precincts since the seminal work on the tourist-historic city by Ashworth and Tunbridge (1990) . Some specific types of tourism precincts have been particularly associated with attempts to redevelop, revitalize or regenerate urban areas. In such instances there is an element of the precinct being ‗ manufactured ‘ rather than evolving ‗ naturally ‘ based on some inherent characteristics of the place. The redevelopment of redundant commercial waterfront areas for tourism and recreation purposes has become a common and much studied feature of cities (Craig-Smith & Fagence, 1995). The waterfront location is often an attribute that makes such areas highly suited to tourism uses ( Griffin & Hayllar, 2006a ). The ‗festival marketplace ‘ is one such precinct type. The term was originally applied to the redevelopment of Faneuil Hall and surrounding harbourside land in Boston and is characterized by a concentration of specialty shopping, restaurants and Figure 38: Hongkong Disneyland is one such precinct type. a variety of entertainment venues. It has subsequently been applied to similarly motivated major redevelopment schemes such as Harborplace in Baltimore and Darling Harbour in Sydney ( Rowe & Stevenson, 1994 ). On a less grand scale, the role of ‗ cultural quarters ‘ as agents for urban regeneration has also been recognized ( Montgomery, 2003 , 2004). Cultural quarters represent areas of both cultural production and consumption, characterized by a variety of cultural venues and events, a strong nighttime economy and public spaces that allow for people watching. Rather than relying on the wholesale transformation of an area, as occurs with the festival marketplace, the creation of cultural quarters involves a more organic and subtle facilitation of these activities, combined with an appropriate built form (Montgomery, 2003 ). The precinct types described above appear to be quite different. It would be hard to imagine places more ostensibly different in character than the Latin Quarter in Paris and Darling Harbour in Sydney. The one obvious uniting feature of these precincts is the presence of large numbers of tourists. They are thus clearly meeting some needs or performing some functions for tourists that other places in the city cannot satisfy to the same degree.

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Figure 39: The Latin Quarter of Paris is an area in the 5th and parts of the 6th arrondissement of Paris. It is situated on the left bank of the River Seine, around the Sorbonne. Source: (Wikipedia contributors, 2011)

Figure 40: Darling Harbour is a locality of the city centre of Sydney, Australia. It is a large recreational and pedestrian precinct. Source: (Wikipedia contributors, 2011 )

The initial study was of The Rocks precinct in Sydney ( Hayllar & Griffi n, 2005 ). The Rocks is the site of the first European settlement in Australia and is effectively Sydney ‘ s historic quarter. It adjoins the central business district (CBD) but a large part of its historic built fabric has been maintained. Since the mid-1970s it has been actively developed, managed and marketed for tourism. It is one of the most visited sites in Australia, particularly by international tourists. This study sought to break new ground by focusing on developing an understanding of how

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EKO NURSANTY tourists actually experience the precinct, and to this end it was based on a series of in-depth interviews with both international and domestic visitors.

Figure 41: The Rocks Tourist Precinct, Sydney, Australia. Source: (Visual Photo)

It employed the particular approach of phenomenology to both conduct the interviews and to analyse the qualitative data that emerged. The aim of phenomenology has been described as being ‗ to transform lived experience into a textual expression of its essence ‘ ( Van Manen, 1990 : 36). The interviews revealed that The Rocks was performing a range of significant functions for visitors, including: offering contrast and respite from the bustle of the CBD; allowing the tourist to make a connection to Sydney ‘ s people and history; and providing a more distinctive sense of place than was afforded by most other parts of the city. The second study involved Darling Harbour, another precinct in Sydney but one which, in a physical sense, contrasted quite markedly with The Rocks. Darling Harbour represents the archetypal festival marketplace, developed in the mid-1980s out of an industrial wasteland of redundant docks, warehouses and railway goods yard. Unlike The Rocks, the redevelopment of Darling Harbour involved the wholesale clearing away of the pre-existing built fabric and the creation of a precinct containing a range of major attractions, cultural institutions, tourist shopping, eating, drinking and entertainment venues, convention and exhibition facilities, hotels, and signifi cant areas of public open space, including performance spaces. A somewhat surprising outcome of this study was that, in spite of its apparent differences to The Rocks, it was actually performing some similar important functions for tourists ( Hayllar & Griffin, 2006 ). Like The Rocks, it was a place of contrast and respite. It was also a place where the tourists were comfortable and felt some connection to Sydney people because here, unlike in the streets of the CBD, both the tourist and the local were in a similar, playful state of mind. The perceptions that Darling Harbour catered to a diverse range of people, and moreover that everyone was welcome and had equal licence to ‗ play ‘ were prominent positive components of the experience. Most unexpectedly, Darling Harbour was seen as conveying a strong sense of place, with some tourists reporting that this was where they headed on return visits to Sydney in order to experience the feeling of having truly arrived. This latter finding certainly went against the conventional wisdom that Darling Harbour in particular and

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festival marketplaces in general were bland, characterless and actually fostered feelings of placelessness ( Huxley, 1991 ; Rowe &Stevenson, 1994 ). Overall, while there was some similarity in the functions that all precincts performed, a number of other significant findings emerged:  The differences in the functions were not necessarily related to the different physical or sociocultural characteristics that they possessed. There were strong similarities between contrasting precincts like The Rocks and Darling Harbour, and substantial differences between such ostensibly similar precincts as Williamstown and Fremantle.  Some precincts performed those functions better than others. In some cases it was possible to discern reasons why a precinct was not performing a particular function well. For example, the physical form and layout of Federation Square made it unduly diffi cult for visitors to understand and explore it. Few reported that they were able to discover all that it offered because most could not comprehend how to access the internal spaces from the external public space. The confi guration of the Square, moreover, neither invited exploration nor suggested that there was more to discover than met the eye. In contrast, the narrow, cobbled lanes of The Rocks enticed visitors to fi nd out what was around the next corner and generally led to a sense that the visitor was discovering something worthwhile about both the precinct and the city within which it was located.  Generally, there appeared to be a relationship between the functions that the precinct performed and the tourists ‘ perceptions of the quality of experience. Where a precinct was not performing a function particularly well, or was only performing a narrow range of functions, it was more likely that tourists would express some disappointment with their experience. Southbank, for example, was perceived to be a pleasant place to be, but it offered a fairly narrow range of experiences and few opportunities to explore aspects of Melbourne in depth, and it was not particularly distinctive as a place. Darling Harbour, on the other hand, was described in quite euphoric terms by many visitors, and seen as a place where each repeat visit offered the opportunity to discover and experience something new and different. Furthermore, it was seen as quintessentially Sydney, or how the visitors had imagined contemporary Sydney to be.  Just as there may be different types of precincts, there may be different types of tourist who visit and use precincts. A precinct may actually be simultaneously performing different functions for these different types of visitors. Hence a deficiency in a precinct ‘ s performance of a particular function may only be a deficiency in the sense that it affects the experience of a particular type of tourist. For other types of tourist it may meet their expectations and provide a thoroughly satisfying experience. In the original study of The Rocks ( Hayllar & Griffin, 2005 ), three types of tourist emerged based on how visitors described their experiences of the precinct – Explorers, Browsers and Samplers. This typology was reinforced in the subsequent studies, although it was observable that some precincts served the needs of some of these types worse than others. The confusing configuration of Federation Square and the linear, one-dimensional layout of Southbank frustrated the Explorer ( Griffin et al., 2006 ), while the lack of specifi c things to see and do offered little to the Sampler in the case of Williamstown. The defi ning

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EKO NURSANTY characteristics of these three types of tourist, and some of the implications for precinct planning and management, are presented later in this chapter.

Figure 42: Darling Harbour, Sydney. Source: (prabhasmyhero, 2005)

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Within rural tourism, the roles of interpretation are similar to those of environmental interpretation.

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Rural Tourism Evolution Study. Since the early 1990s, the concept of sustainable tourism development has achieved almost universal acceptance as a desirable and (politically) appropriate approach to, and goal of, tourism development. At the global, national and local levels, innumerable organizations representing destinations and industry sectors have published sustainable tourism development plans and sets of principles, while tourists themselves have been increasingly exhorted to behave responsibly; to become ‗good‘ tourists. In the rural context in particular, sustainability has evolved as the guiding principle of tourism development. Indeed, the terms ‗rural tourism‘ and ‗sustainable tourism‘ have become virtually synonymous, reflecting the intimate and mutually dependent relationship between tourism and the rural environments and cultures within which it occurs (Bramwell and Lane, 1993). However, despite the widespread support for the principles and objectives of sustainable tourism development, it remains a contested concept. Not only is it variously interpreted Figure 43: Rural Tourism in Krabi, Thailand.

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EKO NURSANTY (Hunter, 1995), but also its validity as a means and objective of tourism development is being increasingly questioned in many quarters. In a general sense this is not surprising, given the fact that sustainable tourism‘s ‗parental‘ paradigm, sustainable development, is itself inherently contradictory and the subject of intense debate (Redclift, 1987). More specifically, it is logical to assume that sustainable tourism should conform with the basic principles and objectives of sustainable development. However, until recently there has been a consistent failure to ‗fit‘ tourism, as a particular socio-economic activity and widely utilized development vehicle, on to the sustainable development template. To do so reveals a number of significant distinctions between the two, suggesting that ‗true‘ sustainable tourism development – that is, the achievement of sustainable development through tourism – is not a viable proposition. A complete consideration of the issues is not possible here (see Sharpley, 2000). Essentially, however, the concept of sustainable development embraces certain principles and requirements which cannot be fulfilled through tourism. In particular:  The adoption of a holistic approach which integrates tourism‘s developmental and environmental consequences within a global socio-economic and ecological context is impossible given the fragmented, multi-sectoral, private-sector dominated and profit-motivated tourism production system.  Sustainable development focuses on long-term fair and equal access to resources and opportunities based on self-reliance and endogenous development. However, such inter- and intra-generational equity is unlikely to be achieved through tourism given the structure, ownership and control of the tourism industry which more closely resembles the dependency model of development theory.  Research has indicated that, in a tourism context, the adoption of a new social paradigm relevant to sustainable living, a fundamental requirement for sustainable development (IUCN, 1991), is unlikely to occur. In other words, the emergence of the ‗green‘ tourist, frequently cited as the justification for promoting sustainable forms of tourism, cannot be taken for granted. For example, the promotion of specific sustainable rural tourism projects in the UK elicited a low level of interest on the part of visitors (Countryside Commission, 1995). It is for these and other reasons that a dichotomy exists between the general principles and objectives of sustainable development and their application to the specific context of tourism. Whereas sustainable development is concerned with the longer-term equitable and endogenous development of societies based on minimal non-renewable resource depletion (a process to which sustainable tourism development should, in theory, contribute), the principal approach manifested in sustainable tourism policy documents and in practice has, with few exceptions, become ‗overly tourismcentric and parochial‘ (Hunter, 1995). That is, the prime objective of sustainable tourism has become the environmentally sustainable development of tourism itself; the aim has become to preserve the natural, built and sociocultural resource base on which tourism depends in a specific time and place in order to permit the long-term survival of tourism. Many public agencies, in contraposition, have the remit to support rural access and recreation within limits designed to safeguard land management and conservation activities. The patchy evidence that exists, however, seems to indicate that the fear of damage may be greater than its reality. In her account of the iniquities of modern farming methods, Shoard (1980: 235) has pointed to a form of visitor conservatism in the countryside which, reinforced by an uncertainty about where people can and cannot go, ‗inclines people to stick with the familiar‘. She believes that ‗trespassers will be prosecuted‘ and similar admonitions have sunk deep into the urban psyche so that visitors are afraid

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of the countryside rather than a threat to it. In the absence of robust research into spatial patterns of rural visiting at local levels, considerable evidence exists to support Shoard‘s claims. Primarily for fear of getting lost, most townspeople tend to use and stay on well-recognized paths and routes they have walked before. Their acknowledged lack of understanding of rural life has created in them an instinctive hesitation that easily discourages use of the countryside for recreation (Shoard, 1999: 10). More recent research into behaviour in the Scottish countryside (Costley, 2000) has shown that 89% of countryside visitors surveyed stressed the importance of ‗responsible‘ behaviour. This suggests that countryside visitors seem to be aware that the rural environment demands a different kind of attention from urban surroundings, and to know that their behaviour should be adjusted accordingly. The lack of reported widespread damage suggests that most visitors to the countryside comply with what they see to be the requirements of nature. Of those who fail to demonstrate ‗appropriate‘ behaviour, it may not be unreasonable to assume that they act out of ignorance rather than disregard or malice. If this is the case, then the problems can be tackled with educational and interpretative programs. This contribution recognizes the potential for ignorance and misunderstanding to give rise to conflicts, in rural tourism and recreation as in other contexts, and argues a role for interpretative materials in the amelioration of such situations. A growing recognition of the need for ‗education‘ in tourism in general has resulted in the transmission of information in attempts to offset potential conflicts, often via the production of codes of conduct, many of which have had limited effects (Mason and Mowforth, 1996). Yet there are other contexts in which means of persuasive communication are very well developed: in the health education field, for example, and more generally in advertising where a great deal of research underpins attempts to influence consumer behaviour. Classically defined, interpretation is ‗an educational activity that aims to reveal meanings and relationships through the use of original objects, by first-hand experience, and by illustrative media, rather than simply to communicate factual information‘ (Tilden, 1957: 8). Good use of interpretation is illustrated by skilful communication of themes, perspectives and linkages. According to Ham (1992: 3), interpretation involves translating the technical, or the otherwise unknown, into terms and ideas that lay people can readily understand; and it involves doing so in a way that is both entertaining and interesting. Interpretation is the process by which information can be imbued with meaning, provoking thought, creating links and communicating to people a sense of understanding and appreciation. Within rural tourism, the roles of interpretation are similar to those of environmental interpretation. Interpretation can enhance enjoyment (Ham, 1992), it may develop an appreciation of sense of place (Stewart et al., 1998), and it can educate, challenge and provide insight (Tilden, 1957). It may facilitate attitudinal or behavioural change (Moscardo, 1996; Prentice, 1996), and it can relieve

Figure 44: Rural Tourism at Moeslem Village, Krabi - Thailand.

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EKO NURSANTY crowding and congestion (Moscardo, 1996). The potential for interpretative materials to make places and experiences accessible to tourists is well documented (Tilden, 1957; Uzzell, 1989; Ham, 1992; Moscardo, 1996). Despite a recent recognition of the potential to influence rural tourism processes and practices in the interests of sustainability and conflict resolution, interpretation in the general tourism context has developed quite a different role from that of environmental interpretation. Primarily, the role of interpretation as a communication process designed to create interest in a product, process or place by stimulating enquiry, provoking thought and relating to experience, has been harnessed, not for the purposes of education, but for entertainment. Interpretative materials and experiences now form the core of the tourism product, and are evident in a range of visitor experiences in heritage centres, visitor centres, and at historic sites and countryside centres that provide a visitor experience. In this sense, interpretation may be perceived as a product rather than a process, and one that helps rural visitors to interpret and otherwise understand rural issues such as stock rearing or the contributions of genetic modification to agricultural production. New leisure forms that have appeared offer learning experiences staged as themes to provide entertainment by interpreting reproductions of the past, complexities of the present and concepts of the future (Rojek, 1993: 146).

Figure 45: Making batik in Batik Village, Semarang Indonesia.

Behaviour does not change without a preceding change in attitude (Fishbein and Manfredo, 1992). In their turn, attitudes can be influenced by access to new information, appeals to emotion, and/or pressure from others resulting in new subjective norms and subsequent behaviour modification (Engel et al., 1995: 387). In theory, therefore, it should be possible to influence hosts‘ and tourists‘ attitudes and behaviours to reduce problems and tensions at a local level by applying the principles of effective interpretation to visitor management processes. Research undertaken into the potential of interpretation relates almost exclusively to tourism and the natural environment. A number of studies have been conducted, some in response to environmental concerns (Moscardo, 1996; Orams, 1996, 1997; Stewart et al., 1998) and others out of a recognition of the importance of interpretation techniques in responding to the needs of eco- and nature-based tourists (Travelweek Australia in Orams, 1996). The idea is approached by Stewart et al. (1998) in relation to sense of place; their question is ‗does interpretation have the capacity to take visitors one step beyond wherever they happen to be when they arrive at a site so that empathy or ―care‖ is developed towards the conservation of that place and sequentially to other places throughout the world?‘ The authors argue that well-conceived and managed interpretation can make a difference and indeed may have a cumulative effect encouraging the desired result of empathy with surroundings. They conclude, however, that further empirical research is required to uncover the intricacies of the relationships between people, place and

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interpretation. This development of a sense of place should underpin tourism management processes at destination level. For Dagnall and Atkinson (unpublished) this means that recreational use of land and water should be founded on care so that those who enjoy the outdoors are encouraged to respect its beauty, its wildlife, its operational needs and the privacy of those who live or earn their living there. Although Dagnall and Atkinson (unpublished) recommend the establishment of voluntary codes of conduct for site management, the use of interpretative methods is implicit in the process. Moscardo (1996) also claims that effective interpretation can alter behaviour, either directly through information, or indirectly through fostering visitor appreciation of a site. She reports on interpretation and built heritage management and believes that interpretation induces a state of mindfulness (Langer et al., 1989), which is essential to learning. There is a positive link between visitor enjoyment and visitor learning (defined as mindfulness) (Moscardo and Pearce, 1986). Importantly, the state of mindfulness can, Moscardo (1996) claims, be induced by effective interpretation. A further study of interpretative material by Roggenbuck and Passineau (1986), evaluated the effectiveness of interpretation in determining positive attitudes and behavioural intentions, reductions in depreciative behaviour and stimulation of increased interest in resources. It showed varying results across groups but a generally positive role for interpretative materials in increasing knowledge gain, and developing positive attitudes and behavioural intentions. More recently, research in the field of interpretation and behaviour change has emphasized the importance of understanding visitors‘ needs and motivations, and prior knowledge, attitudes and beliefs in relation to a site before attempting interpretative design (Ballantyne, 1998). In other words, interpretative materials must contain communication strategies that create links between visitor and theme, and enable people to establish personally meaningful connections within the interpretative experience. This requires that material be targeted at different types of visitor. In any case, it would be simplistic to assume that all tourists can be similarly influenced. Tourists are not a homogeneous, single-minded group; the tourist condition is not one single state (Mason and Mowforth, 1996). Routes to persuasion must take account of social settings and levels of attention that can be achieved (Carter, 2000).

A Sideways Look at Tourism Demand This chapter explores a number of ways in which meaningful market segments for tourism and recreation in rural areas might be identified, including demographic, psychographic and benefit segmentation, in an attempt to support marketing practice that may better suit the needs of new and changing markets, and the environments in which they operate. In response to a recognition of the declining usefulness of traditional forms of market segmentation, and an increasing demand for more individualized products (AEIDL, 1994: 31), the chapter analyses demand for ‗rural tourism and recreation‘ consumption by:  illustrating the limits of ‗traditional‘ market segmentation for tourism and recreation consumption;  analysing demand within the framework of Sharpley‘s consumption typology (Sharpley, 2000); and  appraising potential opportunities for future segmentation of markets for tourism and recreation in rural areas. The measurement of demand is complicated by a number of factors. Even in Western Europe, where statistical collection and analysis are relatively widespread, it is impossible to gain an accurate picture of the volume of visits to and stays in the countryside (Edmunds, 1999). As discussed at length in earlier chapters, the difficulties of defining the

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EKO NURSANTY terms ‗rural‘ and ‗tourism‘ separately, let alone the concept of rural tourism, render their accurate description and measurement difficult. Measures of accommodation occupancy often form the basis of statistical analysis but account for only one of the activities of rural tourists. The collection of data on visits to attractions is difficult and expensive given the fragmentation and geographical dispersion of facilities. And data collected often do not capture day visits to the countryside so that the importance of domestic tourism, a very large element of tourism in rural areas, may go unrecognized. Studies of motivation in tourism have identified a number of categories within the process. McIntosh and Goeldner (in Cooper et al., 1993: 22), for example, identified four such categories as: 1. Physical motivators: needs for rest and recuperation or for sport and physical activity. 2. Cultural motivators: needs to visit and learn about new places and to experience new cultures. 3. Interpersonal motivators: needs to extend friendships and to meet new people, perhaps a search for spirituality. 4. Status and prestige motivators: the expression of self through tourism and the desire for recognition by others. Clearly, travel for pleasure is insufficient to explain tourists‘ motivations. Tourists may experience a visit as a recreational experience, as a diversion from the norm, as a search for deeper meaning of life, an alternative lifestyle, and even as a pilgrimage (Cohen, 1996: 97).

The Development of Tourist Typologies Motivation is only one of many variables that explain tourist behaviour. Although useful in the development of an understanding of why people choose to travel per se, by themselves theories of motivation may not explain the holiday and recreational choices people make. A provider may be able to differentiate motivations of a particular market such as adventure tourism, and segment according to the compatibility of needs identified (Fluker and Turner, 2000). In order to be able to operate optimally in a given market, however, tourism businesses need not only to be able to identify consumers who constitute their customers but also to understand their perceptions of different holiday products and services and formulate offers to attract specified markets to them. In other words, business operators need a knowledge of consumer behaviour. Businesses therefore need to be able to divide a large tourism market into segments that might be expected to have an interest in their products/services. Market segmentation is the process whereby a total market is divided into groups, members of each group sharing similarities in consumption patterns that reflect a common need or desire for a particular type of holiday experience. This is neither a simple nor a static process, and it is unwise to ‗pigeonhole‘ visitors. Tourists are becoming more individualistic and can only be characterized by a search for autonomy and a preference for more flexible holidays, leaving more space for personal initiative (Edmunds, 1999: 50). Rural visitors in particular form an ‗unstructured pool of customers‘ who will be attracted to holidays offering ‗content‘, intellectual discovery and contact with local people (AEIDL, 1994: 22). Together, tourism and marketing research provide a rich analysis of tourism motivations, needs and expectations to aid an understanding of tourism markets.

A Market Segment of Rural Tourists Segmentation is merely a way of understanding the market for a product or service. It is a process whereby an overall market, the tourism market for example, is sub-divided into distinct groups according to personal or social characteristics or recognized buying behaviour. Thus ‗rural tourists‘ may form a separate segment from ‗sea, sun and

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sand‘ tourists, each with different purchase preferences. In present markets, subject to increasing fragmentation, ‗rural tourists‘ present the potential for recognition of a number of smaller segments. A useful segment is one that allows a business to match its product or service to the needs of target consumers; the aim of the process is to provide insight into consumers‘ tastes, preferences and buying behaviors in order to be able to position a product or service in an appealing manner. Demographic data alone have been recognized as an inadequate means of identifying market segments (Mayo, 1975). Nevertheless, the most frequently collected data for identifying the characteristics of tourists are demographic data (Gladwell in Silverberg et al., 1996). Since the 1970s, demographics, the use of simple social categories to explain general consumption patterns has given way to psychographics, a marketing technique that aims to measure intangible personal characteristics such as personality, values and lifestyle. Widely used in marketing generally, psychographics provides an understanding of tourists by looking at their activities, interests, attitudes, opinions, perceptions and needs (Gladwell in Silverberg et al., 1996). Much of the analysis of demand thus far has related generally to tourism. Perhaps because of its diverse nature and its relatively recent recognition as a distinct form of tourism, ‗rural tourism‘ research says little about types of ‗rural tourist‘. Predominantly, rural tourism research is characterized by a planning and development perspective rather than a marketing one, as a result of which there is little research relating to market segments in rural tourism. Relates to the environmental attitudes of rural visitors rather than simply their presence in rural space, the justification for this association being the vulnerability of natural areas in the face of the twin pressures of growth of, and change in, consumption. In part, an answer to this question lies within debates on the meaning of rural tourism (see Keane, 1992; Lane, 1994; Page and Getz, 1997: 7; Sharpley and Sharpley, 1997: 7). It is not the purpose of this chapter to add to this well-documented discourse, merely to extract from it that which gives us a better understanding of the ways in which people consume tourism in rural areas. Perhaps because commentators generally agree that definitions and thus the scope of ‗rural tourism‘ are open to so much question, accounts largely fall short of identifying rural tourists. Given the multidimensionality of people‘s social identities, rural tourism and recreation are likely to be consumed in different ways on different occasions. Sharpley and Sharpley (1997) point to the many different meanings of ‗rural tourism‘ to those who participate thus broadening the concept to the European Commission‘s definition of it as ‗all tourist activities in rural areas‘ (Sharpley and Sharpley, 1997: 8). Lane (1994) identifies the existence of what he refers to as a ‗general interest‘ market for ‗less specialized‘ forms of tourism. Such broad views of the rural tourism market suggest a mass rural market distinguishable by activity. The distinction between the activities that make up rural tourism and the environment in which they take place is indeed an important one, the significance of which may have major management implications. Conducted in Portugal and reported by Kastenholz (2000), the study has some important findings in relation to segmentation of rural tourists. The study was of demand for tourism in the Portuguese countryside. A questionnaire was designed to allow definition of tourists‘ profiles by analysis of demographics, attitudes and behaviour. Subsequently, segments were identified by analysis of importance ratings that respondents gave to a list of statements about potential benefits of tourism and recreation in the Portuguese countryside. The following four typologies/segments were identified: 1. The Want it all ruralists are those who are interested in the wide range of activities and opportunities a rural environment may have to offer and value the benefit of a ‗calm and unpolluted environment‘ less than others.

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EKO NURSANTY For this group, therefore, what they can do in the countryside is more important than the countryside itself and this characteristic particularly differentiates the segment. These ‗rural tourists‘ tend to travel in groups, and present medium expenditure levels. They are relatively young, mostly Portuguese (representing the domestic element of rural tourism) and Dutch. They tend to take more than one holiday per year and personal recommendations or their own previous visits influence their holiday choices. ‗Want it all ruralists‘ made up 25% of the sample. 2. Independent ruralists, 24% of those surveyed, as Figure 46: Local food in Thailand Rural Tourism in Phuket. the name suggests, value independent travel in a calm and unpolluted environment. They are interested in walking and hiking, eating out and discovering a region on their own initiative rather than the culture and traditions of the region visited. British, German and Portuguese respectively, they are likely to be couples in their early 40s. Also independent of commercial promotion channels, they too, like the ‗Want it alls‘, rely heavily on word-of-mouth recommendations to make destination and holiday choice. They are both price and quality conscious. 3. The Rural romantics value culture and tradition and a calm and unpolluted environment as the most important benefits of holidaying in the countryside. With an emphasis on the importance of the rural environment and with the potential for an interest in conservation issues, they are more interested in the concept of rurality than in the activities or opportunities for ‗doing things‘ that the countryside might have to offer. Mostly couples, the ‗Rural romantics‘ are the highest spenders and were mainly British, Portuguese and German respectively. Perhaps because they placed less importance on independent travel there was a heavy reliance by this segment on tour operators and travel agents when selecting destinations and holiday types. The importance to this group of a previous visit may signify a degree of consumer loyalty to the destination. As the largest group, ‗Rural romantics‘ constituted 30% of the sample. 4. The smallest of the segments, the Outdoor ruralists, value both a calm and unpolluted environment and social, active hedonism as potential benefits of holidaying in rural areas. They place less emphasis on culture and tradition and on independent travel. ‗Outdoor ruralists‘ prefer outdoor activities such as horse-riding and cycling, and are relatively young (in their mid-30s), holiday in groups, tend to be the lowest spenders, and rely on personal recommendation to make their holiday choice. Portuguese, perhaps indicating the importance of the domestic market for this segment, was the dominant nationality. Its identification of market segments distinguishable, among other attributes, by a primary focus on either activities or the rural environment is a critical observation for rural tourism planners and managers. The work represents empirical study rather than abstract conceptualization and therefore provides some evidence for market analysis. The

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motivations the study identifies are both socio-psychological and cultural, both ‗push‘ and ‗pull‘, in that for some clusters, the destination is the attraction while for others, it is their own desire for challenge and means of selfexploration. The findings suggest that there is potential for a number of niche markets offering specialist activities in rural areas. The predominance of ‗Rural romantics‘ in the sample suggests, however, that such provision should not be at the expense of the tranquillity and unpolluted environment that the countryside is seen to offer. Other significant findings related to the importance for rural tourism of the domestic market. Both ‗Want it all ruralists‘ and ‗Outdoor ruralists‘ represented a high level of Portuguese compared with foreign tourists. While it is clearly possible that this fact represents only the findings of this case, it lends support to other studies that indicate the importance of domestic visitors for the rural tourism industry (Davidson, 1995; Euromonitor, 1998a: 193; Mintel, 1999a). It may also be significant that the two segments presenting high levels of domestic participation are those that expressed interest in activities, socializing, fun and sports rather than in the aesthetic qualities offered by rurality. It is suggestive of the possibility that the countryside as a resource for general activities is particularly important to the domestic market. Perhaps foreign visitors are more attracted by their expectations of the qualities of new and different landscapes. Also in line with other studies (Greffe, 1994; Cavaco, 1995: 131).

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Architecture has become a major focus for travelers, rather than merely a part of a larger itinerary.

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ARCHITECTURE FOR ATTRACT VISITORS

In the last decades architecture has become a major focus for travelers, rather than merely a part of a larger itinerary. Illustrated with nearly one hundred color photographs, this series of provocative essays by leading scholars, critics and architects, explores the role of architecture in the contemporary tourist imagination. From Mont Saint Michel and the Taj Mahal to Bilbao‘s Guggenheim Museum and the Blur Building in Switzerland‘s Lake Neuchatel, the authors focus on how certain iconic buildings have found their way into the cultural consciousness. At the same time they offer insights as to why other buildings, such as Minnesota‘s Mall of America and the faux architecture of Las Vegas, have become integral to their regions‘ tourist economy—and postulate how this success will influence architecture of the future. Buildings by Santiago Calatrava, Frank Gehry and Renzo Piano have taken on a tourism significance up there with the Parthenon and great Gothic cathedrals. Until this century, no-one had heard the word Architourism, let alone thought of taking a tour based on landmarks of modern and contemporary architecture. Both the term and the notion of travel to admire buildings created within modern memory are 21st-century phenomena. When the Columbia University Conference on Architecture as a Destination for Tourism convened in 2002, the tourism community was still puzzling over what it called ―The Bilbao Effect.‖ Frank Gehry‘s bold and brilliant Guggenheim Museum had recently appeared along the riverbank of a down-at-theheels provincial city in northern Spain, previously ignored by tourism. The fact that people flocked to this unknown city to see a single building – a new one at that -- took the world by surprise. Instead of a curiosity, this strange free-form building became an overnight tourist attraction, and it made Bilbao a destination. (Rogers, 2010)

Guggenheim Brings Travelers to Bilbao People traveled to this remote coast of northern Spain just to see it, cruise ships added it to their itineraries and modern architecture was suddenly on the map. Before that the only structures that were considered attractions in their own right were those built before the 20th century, and tended to be important for their age (as the Parthenon and

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and TOURISM Identify Trends and Elaborate Their Profitability Coliseum), their interior decoration (The Alhambra or Sistine Chapel) or for historic events that took place there, not for their architecture. With only a few exceptions, such as Gaudi‘s Art Nouveau works in Barcelona, architecture -- especially contemporary architecture -- was just the box that held the treasures. Even Horta‘s and Guimard‘s Art Nouveau masterpieces in Brussels and Paris were considered no more than curiosities, not the subject for a whole trip. But now entire tours are based on 20th-21st-century architecture, and travelers are rushing to see works by Frank Gehry, Renzo Piano, Gio Ponti, Guiseppe Terragni and Aldo Rossi, along with the Art Nouveau works of Antoni Gaudi and others.

Architecture for Attracts Tourism Depending upon one's perspective, architectural tourism is as old as architecture itself. Some of the earliest sites known to humankind may have had ritual or pilgrimage functions, and people traveled vast distances to encounter them. For example, the oracle at Delphi attracted pilgrims, or tourists, and the seventeenth- and eighteenth-century European Grand Tour focused upon the visitation of monuments to western civilization in antiquity and the Renaissance. But that was an earlier, arguably deferent, time. Back then, touring the built environment was a means to an end, whether that end was salvation, knowledge, or renement. If the splashy production and title of Joan Ockman and Salomon Frausto's edited collection of essays, exhibits, and projects, Architourism, is any indication, architectural tourism is now an end in itself. In Architourism, tourism itself is not universally regarded as a denigrating and shallow practice, and tourists are given far more agency than they are conventionally an order. Many of the essays critically probe the complexity of the tourist encounter, as authors seem unwilling to assume that tourists are unaware of their status or the ways that the tourist industry attempts to shape their experiences. Karal Ann Marling's article, for one, notes the pleasure that tourists seem to take in the architectural simulacra that can be found in places such as Country Club Plaza in Kansas City, Walt Disney World in Orlando, and the Mall of America near Minneapolis. If we neglect the positive transformative powers such sites can have on people, she cautions, we miss the point A few of the essays, such as those by Yi-Fu Tuan and Tim Edensor, even suggest that touring the built environment{whether a grand monument such as the Taj Mahal or a decaying industrial ruin in England{can potentially provide a kind of transcendence from the everyday. And, for the most part, the articles do not re-hash the tired discussion of the alleged distinctions between traveler and tourist, which inevitably end with far more exceptions to any rule. Even if the book's visually oriented graphic design does not always reject its written content, it remains a refreshing effort overall. Nonetheless, there does not appear to be any widespread agreement as to what architectural tourism is, Figure 47: The outside of the Guggenheim Bilbao is much more impressive than its interior.

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EKO NURSANTY and whether it is, in fact, new. Mitchell Schwarzer's lively, personal, and provocative opening essay on architecture and mass tourism comes closest to dening architourism as it is popularly imagined: a worldwide, frequently urban, phenomenon where internationally renowned architects are lured to design buildings intended to attract tourists as much as, if not more than, locals. Schwarzer concedes that the desire to create an iconic structure is not new, but that the difference today lies in the number of tourist-magnet buildings underway, as well as the global marketing considerations that go into all aspects of project planning, including design". Frank Gehry's Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, Spain (1997), is considered a catalyst for this phenomenon so much so that the term "Bilbao effect" might, in certain respects, be interchangeable with "architourism." In their introductory remarks, Ockman and Frausto acknowledge that Gehry's Guggenheim and its ability to capture the public imagination while regenerating an entire city also generated their book, in addition to the conference and exhibition that preceded it. 1. Guggenheim Museum – Bilbao, Spain, by Frank Gehry, 1997

Figure 48: Guggenheim Museum-Bilbao, Spain. (MykReeve, 2005)

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2. Carlo Felice Theater -- Genoa, Italy, rebuilt by Aldo Rossi, 1990

Figure 49: Carlo Felice Teather. (Papalini, 2009)

3. Oriente Station -- Lisbon, Portugal, by Santiago Calatrava, 1998

Figure 50: Oriente Station – Lisboa (Joao.pimentel.ferreira, 2011)

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EKO NURSANTY 4. City of Arts and Sciences Museum and Planetarium Complex -- Valencia, Spain, by Santiago Calatrava, 2007

Figure 51: City of Arts and Sciences Museum and Planetarium. (Diliff, 2007)

5. Lingotto Building – Turin, Italy, renovated by Renzo Piano, 1994

Figure 52: Lingotto Building. (Traveler100, 2008)

6. Auditorio, Santa Cruz, Tenerife (Canary Islands), by Santiago Calatrava, 2003

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Figure 53: Auditorio, Santa Cruz, Tenerife. (Wladyslaw, 2007)

City Tourism and Culture The movement of persons to cultural attractions in cities in countries other than their normal place of residence, with the intention to gather new information and experiences to satisfy their cultural needs and all movements of persons to specific cultural attractions, such as heritage sites, artistic and cultural manifestations, arts and drama to cities outside their normal country of residence. In order to structure the way cities can be looked at as destinations for cultural tourism a framework has been developed based on the predominant (cultural) product of a place and the type of place, such as village, town, city and metropolis. In this framework ‗Heritage‘ refers to places with cultural heritage as the predominant cultural product. ‗Cultural‘ (or the arts) refers to the (contemporary) performing and visual arts of the place and thirdly ‗Creative‘ refers to the creative industries, such as (graphic) design, fashion, contemporary architecture etc. The framework is not intended as a strict categorization, but as a way to cluster city destinations according to a cultural motivation.

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Figure 54: Framework to classify places and their cultural product. (European Travel Commission, 2005)

There are a great number of definitions of cultural tourism in use, resulting in different definitions being used in research studies related to cultural tourism and in the field of cultural tourism. Or as McKercher and Du Cros (2002) responded to the question ―What is cultural tourism? This seemingly simple question is actually very difficult to answer because there are almost as many definitions of cultural tourism as there are cultural tourists.‖ This complicates the discourse about cultural tourism, as it is not always clear if we are in fact talking about the same subject. Furthermore, the use of differing definitions makes it difficult to compare the various statistics related to cultural tourism. The definition of the complex word ―culture‖ further complicates the definition of cultural tourism. Culture as presented in the definitions, not only consists of traditional culture, such as visiting museums, the performing arts, galleries, cultural heritage, etc., but it is also includes the way of life of people living in a certain area, including aspects such as language, beliefs, cuisine, dress, customs etc. and the products that arise from it (for example architecture, artefacts and the related atmosphere). According to Howard (2002), cultural tourism consists of several dimensions ‖historical and contemporary (time), objects and performance (type), contextual and non-contextual (travel) as well as wide or narrow (scope)‖. Furthermore, he states that ―the term cultural tourism is applied to any or all of these but the diversity means that it will be difficult to treat visits to them all as an entity. It may be misleading to analyze all within the same broad category of cultural tourism and, at least initially, more worthwhile to isolate each as separate forms of tourism‖ (Howard, 2002). True as this may be, it is currently not realistic to do so for this study as the existing statistics on cultural tourism in Europe are so general. However, as Selby (2004) argues, a clear and analytical framework for understanding city tourism is still lacking. Studies have tended to focus on tracking, describing and considering the impacts of tourism, often through isolated case

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studies; systematic analysis has been limited. Longitudinal analyses of tourism policies and their impacts have been rarer still (Maitland, 2006). One aspect of the problem is the lack of data. It is ironic that despite the widely acknowledged growth of city tourism, and the often-repeated claims by the tourism industry that it is the biggest in the world, even basic information on visitor numbers in cities is hard to find in any consistent form, so that comparisons between cities over time are virtually impossible. This difficulty applies even to leading cities and national capitals like London, Berlin and Paris (Maitland and Newman, 2009). Limited theoretical frameworks and lack of data inhibit a nuanced understanding of how the different qualities of cities interact with changing tourism demands to produce different outcomes – for both city and visitor – in different places. While there is no shortage of descriptive categories of city types (e.g. Page and Hall, 2003), analysis and connection to broader theory and conceptual schemes is limited. The effects have been profound: three-quarters of today‘s national capital cities were not capitals 100 years ago (Capitals Alliance, 2003, p. 9). The process of dismantling global empires is now largely complete, but pressures for devolution and national identity mean that ‗new‘ capitals continue to arise – Cardiff, Edinburgh and, by some measures, Barcelona, for example. The effects of these radical role changes on tourism, as well as other activities, are still being played out and provide a fruitful opportunity for study. Finally, national capitals have long displayed the rivalry, search for advantage and distinctiveness, and emulation of competitors that now characterizes almost all cities in a globalized and competitive era. As Gilbert and Driver (2000) show, European capitals in the 19th and 20th centuries were at the heart of national and imperial competition, and this was played out in their architecture, planning and geography, as well as their museums, galleries and other attractions. However, these same forces affected other cities too: ‗the form, use and representation of modern European cities have been shaped by the global history of imperialism in ways that continue to matter even in an apparently post-Imperial age‘ (p. 23). National cap itals then deserve study in their own right, to help gain a more nuanced understanding of cities and tourism, but they also provide a lens through which to gain fresh insights into city tourism more generally.

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ARCHITECTURE FOR CULTURAL & TOURISM

Relationship Between Culture And Tourism Tourism has assumed a vital role in the development of destinations around the world. In most cases, culture is a major asset for tourism development as well as one of the major beneficiaries of this development. Culture is a major factor in the attractiveness of most destinations, not only in terms of tourism, but also in attracting residents and inward investment. In this section of the book, the growing relationship between tourism and culture, and the way in which they have together become major drivers of regional attractiveness and competitiveness, will be examined. During most of the 20th century, tourism and culture were viewed as largely separate aspects of destinations. Cultural resources were seen as part of the cultural heritage of destinations, largely related to the education of the local population and the underpinning of local or national cultural identities. Tourism, on the other hand, was largely viewed as a leisure-related activity separate from everyday life and the culture of the local population. This gradually changed towards the end of the century, as the role of cultural assets in attracting tourists and distinguishing detestations from one another become more obvious. In particular, from the 1980s onwards ―cultural tourism‖ became viewed as a major source of economic development for many destinations. The growing articulation between culture and tourism was stimulated by a number of factors:  Demand :  Increased interest in culture, particularly as a source of identity and differentiation in the face of globalization. Figure 55: Culture and tourism at Angkor Wat, Siem Rep, Cambodia.

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     


Growing levels of cultural capital, stimulated by rising education levels. Aging populations in developed regions. Postmodern consumption styles, emphasizing personal development rather than materialism. A desire for direct forms of experience (―life seeing‖ rather than sightseeing). Growing importance of intangible culture and the role of image and atmosphere. Increased mobility creating easier access to other cultures.

 Supply  Development of cultural tourism to stimulate jobs and income.  Cultural tourism was seen as a growth market and ―quality‖ tourism.  An increasing supply of culture as a result of regional development.  The growing accessibility of information on culture and tourism through new technologies.  The emergence of new nations and regions eager to establish a distinct identity (e.g. the impact of newlyindependent states in Central and Eastern Europe).  A desire to project the external image of regions and nations.  Cultural funding problems related to increasing cultural supply. As a result, culture has been increasingly employed as an aspect of the tourism product and destination imaging strategies, and tourism has been integrated into cultural development strategies as a means of supporting cultural heritage and cultural production. This synergy between tourism and culture is seen as one of the most important reasons for encouraging a more direct relationship between these two elements. This relationship is even more significant, given the growing importance of both tourism and culture for economies around the globe. The combination of tourism and culture is therefore an extremely potent economic engine. According to Europa Nostra (2005) ―more than 50% of tourist activity in Europe is driven by cultural heritage and cultural tourism is expected to grow the most in the tourism sector.‖ Similar positive assessments can be found elsewhere, usually based on UN World Tourism Organization estimates that cultural tourism accounts for 40% of International tourism (Richards, 2007). Cultural tourism is particularly attractive because of the raft of benefits it can deliver to local communities. According to the National Trust for Historic Preservation in the U.S., these benefits include: • Creating jobs and businesses. • Increasing tax revenues. • Diversifying the local economy. • Creating opportunities for partnerships. • Attracting visitors interested in history and preservation. • Increasing historic attraction revenues. • Preserving local traditions and culture. • Generating local investment in historic resources. • Building community pride in heritage. • Increasing awareness of the site or area's significance.

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EKO NURSANTY In many urban areas, cultural institutions have been used to spearhead the regeneration of run-down areas, rejuvenating local economies and increasing property values. In rural areas, tourism is used to support traditional livelihoods and crafts and sustain communities threatened with out-migration. For example, visitors to summer festivals in Gaelic-speaking areas of the Highlands of Scotland not only bring much needed money to remote areas, but also help sustain the local language and traditions (McLean, 2006). Cultural tourism can be particularly important for rural areas, since there are often few alternative sources of income. Figure 56:Spending by holiday type per trip.

Source: ATLAS surveys 2006 The closer links between tourism and culture are also reflected in governance structures at national and regional levels. A growing number of countries (about 25 in the world, of which 4 in the OECD area) are combining administrative structures for culture and tourism, for example, in a single ministry. In the case of the U.K., the link between tourism and culture was originally made on the basis of the importance of ―national heritage‖ for tourism and vice versa. Now, countries are beginning to link creativity and tourism directly. For example, Singapore has in recent years been developing itself as a ―Global City for the Arts‖ and tourism has been highly influential in supporting this ambition. SO much so that the Singapore Tourist Board has been given responsibility for marketing the arts and promotion of cultural tourism in the creative economy (Ooi, 2007). These developments point to the fact that in spite of the many different contexts and driving factors for cultural and tourism policies, there is growing convergence of culture and tourism as a factor in national and regional attractiveness, which is also driving the formation of administrative structures which attempt to address the new reality. It is clear that culture is important for tourism and for the attractiveness and competitiveness of destinations. The most successful destinations are those that can create a positive synergy between culture and tourism. But this synergy does not happen automatically: it has to be created, developed and managed. In an OECD report on culture and local development (2005),

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Xavier Greffe identifies a number of criteria which are important in developing a positive relationship between tourism and culture: • The permanence of cultural activities. • The degree of participation by local people in addition to tourists. • The territory‘s capacity to produce all the goods and services demanded on this occasion, i.e. the local context is paramount. • Interdependence of these activities to foster ―clustering effects‖. From the analysis of competitiveness models above, it might be added that the organisational capacity of a place (or the ―orgware‖) is also an important factor. From this perspective, it seems that governance and management of the relationship between tourism and culture are vital. This realisation has led some destinations which may not seem to have obvious cultural assets to develop policies of culture-led regeneration as a means of stimulating economic development and improving. However, intervention in the relationship between tourism and culture may be difficult for some destinations for a number of reasons. For example, in their study of cultural tourism governance in Europe, Paskaleva-Shapira, et al. (2004:87) finds that: ―Small and medium-sized localities generally lack the financial and strategic resources to implement good urban governance for sustainable cultural tourism. Missing is a cohesive guidance on how to practically manage the sector that can potentially create an array of positive impacts in the economy as well as on a range of other assets, such as local heritage enhancement and urban quality of life.‖ Another major problem is that the management of cultural tourism is usually in the hands of many different actors, and the more intangible factors of the relationship between tourism and culture (quality of life issues, sustainability) are usually not taken into account in planning. Smaller regions and cities often lack the skills and/or resources to administer regional co-operation. Integrated management of tourism requires introducing governance styles and systems that involve local authorities, the tourism sector, local associations and the residents. Creating effective collaboration is also a challenge because the tourism and cultural sectors often seem to be speaking a different language. This is largely to do with the culture of the two sectors, because the tourism sector is largely commercial, whereas the cultural sector often has a non-profit ethos.

Diversity Approaches To The Relationship Between Tourism And Culture The diversity of approaches to the relationship between tourism and culture underlines the problems of definition which exist in this field. Because culture touches every aspect of human life, it can be argued that everything is cultural. According to this view, all tourism might be considered as ―cultural tourism‖, because ―all movements of persons. Satisfy the human need for diversity, tending to raise the cultural level of the individual and giving rise to new knowledge, experience and encounters‖ (UNWTO 1985). This broad approach is not very useful because it does not allow us to identify those forms of culture which are particularly important for tourism, and vice versa. Richards (1996) suggested that early approaches to the relationship between tourism and culture tended to be based on the ―sites and monuments‖ approach, where the cultural attractions of a country or region were basically seen as the physical cultural sites which were important for tourism. This approach informed the compilation of the Cultural Tourism Inventory for Europe in the 1980s, for example. Gradually, however, a broader view of culture in tourism emerged (Box 2.2), which included the performing arts (Hughes, 2000), crafts (Richards, 1999), cultural events, architecture and design, and more recently, creative activities (Richards and Wilson, 2006) and intangible heritage (UNESCO).

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EKO NURSANTY This has also stimulated a move away from product-based to process based or ―way of life‖ definitions of culture. Tourists increasingly visit destinations to experience the lifestyles, everyday culture and customs of the people they visit. In many destinations, the ―creative industries‖ or the ―cultural industries‖ have also been identified as having an important relationship with tourism. As tourism increasingly shifts away from its previous preoccupation with landscapes and natural resources (sun, sea and sand, for example), tourists become more involved in symbolic and sensory consumption of the images and ideas associated with particular destinations. Figure 57: The characteristics of heritage tourism, cultural tourism and creative

Source : Richards 2001. People want to go to destinations which are associated with particular famous people, ideas or events, and they want to experience the sights, sounds and it seems especially the tastes of the destinations they visit. According to the Travel Industry Association of America and the National Restaurant Association (2008), food is central to deciding vacation destinations for at least 25% of leisure travelers and 58% stated that they are somewhat/very interested in taking a trip to engage in culinary or winerelated activities. This expanding notion of the cultural consumption of tourists (as well as an increasing tendency not to distinguish between tourists and other visitors) makes the definition of cultural tourism or culturally-motivated tourism increasingly difficult.

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Linked Of Regional Attractiveness And Competitiveness Regional attractiveness and competitiveness are directly linked. Countries and regions increasingly have to compete to attract residents, visitors and inward investment. Kotler, Haider and Rein (1993:14) have suggested that: ―Every place - community, city, state, region, or nation - should ask itself why anyone wants to live, relocate, visit, invest, or start or expand a business there. What does this place have that people need or should want? What competitive advantages does this place offer that others do not?‖ What different destinations have to offer depends not just on economic factors, e.g. standards of living or locational factors such as accessibility, but also on intangible factors such as the ―atmosphere‖ of a place or its general quality of life. In analysing attractiveness, many studies have borrowed from the work of Porter (1990) on competitiveness. Porter‘s ―diamond‖ features the main ―drivers‖ of competitiveness: factor conditions, demand conditions, related and supporting industries, and firm strategy, structure, and rivalry. For tourism, the factor conditions have traditionally been most important for destination attractiveness, both in terms of ―inherited factors‖ (natural resources such as beaches, climate, etc.) and ―created factors‖ (such as cultural attractions, events, etc.). But increasingly, destinations have to mobilise all their factor conditions more effectively through industry restructuring, product innovation and marketing in order to compete. The concept of competitiveness has also been applied directly to tourism destinations. Crouch and Ritchie (1999) adapted Porter‘s model to suggest that ―destination attractiveness‖ depends on four components:  Core resources and attractors (physiography, culture and history, market ties, mix of activities, special events, entertainment and superstructure).  Supporting factors and resources (infrastructure, accessibility, facilitating resources, hospitality, enterprise).  Destination management (resources stewardship, marketing, finance and venture capital, organisation, human resource development, information/research, quality of service, visitor management).  Qualifying determinants (location, interdependencies, safety/security, awareness/image/brand, cost/value). Similarly, Dwyer and Kim (2003) identify the factors that determine competitiveness as available resources (natural resources, cultural assets and heritage items), created resources (tourism infrastructure, the activities on offer, etc.), supporting factors (infrastructure in general, the quality of service, access to the destination, etc.) and destination management factors. Therefore, a destination may have a certain attractiveness based on its inherited assets. Its ability, however, to compete with areas to attract tourists or investment may also vitally depend on its ability to transform the basic inherited factors into created assets with a higher symbolic or sign value which may then be translated into higher market values.

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CURRICULUM VITAE OF THE AUTHOR Name Academic Title Name of Institution E-mail HP Website Position Education

: EKO NURSANTY : ST., MT. : Department of Architecture. University of 17 Agustus 1945 (UNTAG) Semarang, Indonesia. : [email protected] : +62 858 761 42560 : www.archuntagsmg.co.cc : Secretary Department of Architecture : Bachelor from University of 17 Agustus 1945 (UNTAG) Semarang : Magister from University of Diponegoro (UNDIP)

Semarang Selected Experience : Study of Asian Architecture and Tourism, 2009 : Study of Airport Design in Singapore-MalaysiaThailand, 2010.

Photograph Color (4 x 6)

Selected Publications : Tourism Architecture, The Influence Of Urban Form ( Seminar Nasional Scan#2:2011 Architecture And Lifestyle, Atmajaya UniversityYogyakarta. ) : Hunting New Public Spaces In New Urban Area: Case Study In Semarang City, Indonesia. ( ICWSAUD International Conference - Workshop By School Of Housing, Building & Planning, Universiti Sains Malaysia) : Developing Heritage Architecture On Tourism Marketing. (The 2th International Conference on The Challenges of Sustainable Tourism Development in the Times of Climate Change, Romania.) : How to Properly Research on the Internet Become An Internet Research Expert. ISBN: 1466380748. Print and Publish by,CREATE SPACE. USA. Main interest in Research or Professional Work: E_learning; Internet research; tourism and architecture research.

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Architecture and Tourism. Identify Trends and Elaborate Their Profitability

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