Many NYU Abu Dhabi students recently returned from spring break travel abroad, marking the first spring vacations for many students in several years due to pandemic restrictions. It was my first experience traveling during spring break in university, and I visited Perú for a week with a friend. We picked Perú because it was a relatively short flight from New York, it didn’t require a visa to enter, we both had never visited South America and most importantly, it was cheap and fit our New York City student budgets. To top it off, the country is still taking Covid-19 incredibly seriously, even requiring double masks and face shields on public transportation.

It was the most amazing trip I’ve ever been on. We found the perfect mix of traditional and cultural experiences, pure relaxation time on the beach, hiking in the mountains and rural areas and enjoying dinners, drinks and social gatherings. The week flew by and by the end, despite our love for New York, we were both dreading boarding the plane back home.

Photo courtesy of Grace Bechdol.

I didn’t recognize, however, until after our trip just how skewed our perception of Perú was by the places we stayed and ate, the tour companies we used and the activities we did. While for us, it was an inexpensive trip that was a much needed break from the extravagant prices of New York, it was actually a luxury experience compared to the standards of many living in Perú.

We stayed in a neighborhood of Lima, which is considered to be upscale, although for a high-end area we were shocked by its affordability. We stayed in a beautiful one-bedroom apartment in a prime location for less than 20 U.S. dollars a night. We stuffed ourselves with sushi dinners and Perúvian cocktails for less than 13 U.S. dollars per person. After two months of living in New York City — where you nearly have to sell your kidney to pay for a basic cafe breakfast — these prices seemed too good to be true.

As we walked through the neighborhood we were staying in, we would make comments back and forth about how much we would love to live in a place like this and how happy we were that we chose Perú for our trip, making digs here and there at many of our fellow university students who chose the typical Miami, Florida spring break when they could have gone somewhere more unique.

Photo courtesy of Grace Bechdol. Spanish bridge writing translation: “Let’s make a Perú that we like.”

But when we were in neighborhoods that weren’t catered to the upper class or tourists, that weren’t peppered with colorful murals and beautiful apartment buildings and that were defined by dirty streets and abandoned storefronts, those comments quickly ceased. Our walks were punctuated by almost awkward silence, an unspoken recognition from both of us that we were no longer captivated by Perú’s South American charm and were instead taken with feelings of discomfort bordering on unsafety.

On one of our last days, we went on an excursion to see sea lions on an island off the coast of Perú. The area of Lima where the boat was docked to take us to the island was considered a rundown area, so much so that police saw other white tourists walking around trying to find the boat at the pier and ran over to them yelling in Spanish that the area was dangerous and that they needed to be escorted to their destination. Meanwhile, homeless and poverty-stricken Perúvians laid on the sides of the streets in the dirt, and no one, including the police, gave them a second look.

Photo courtesy of Grace Bechdol.

This two-sided experience is not exclusive to our trip to Perú. It’s the same case in many other developing nations and smaller economies that become frequented vacation spots. The most popular destinations for NYUAD students were Sri Lanka, Kenya/Tanzania and Georgia, for many of the same reasons that my friend and I picked Perú: short flights, exotic charm and low prices. Admittedly, I was one of many students who had fully booked spring break travel to Kenya and Tanzania in my freshman year, a trip that was inevitably canceled when the Covid-19 pandemic hit, so I’m no stranger to the allure of these go-to destinations.

For that week-long period of spring break, the social media of every NYUAD student was flooded with aesthetic photos and videos of everyone’s exotic getaways: safari rides, swimming at tropical beaches, visits to temples and other historic sites and general tourist attractions. But these carefully curated vignettes do little to capture the reality of life for the average citizen in these countries.

Photo courtesy of Grace Bechdol.

The trips that I and many other students took for break are examples of massive privilege in comparison to many of the people who live in these cheap vacation spots. What to us seem like incredibly affordable prices compared to Abu Dhabi or New York City living are often significant amounts for people living in those destinations. While my mouth watered over the many $1 homemade empanadas that I bought before a long train ride from a small, elderly Perúvian woman on the side of a road in a tiny village in the mountains, I failed to consider that the average monthly income in that area was a mere 90 U.S. dollars a month. The 10 U.S. dollars we spent on empanadas amounted to over 3 days of income on average, and all we could think about was how great of a deal everything was in Perú.

We became painfully aware of this reality early in our trip, and we did everything we could to be “ethical tourists.” We tried to always tip extra — waiters, Uber drivers or tour guides and hospitality staff — and be respectful in every space we entered. When booking tours and travel, I did my best to research the companies we were using and ensure that their employees are treated fairly and their proceeds are used ethically. I brushed up on my high school Spanish so that I felt comfortable navigating our trip without relying on locals to speak English. These were small things, but the bottom line was that we did everything we could to be as respectful and unimposing of tourists as possible.

Photo courtesy of Grace Bechdol.

This need for ethical tourism is especially pertinent when visiting countries with oppressive governments or where people are discriminated against based on their race, religion or gender and sexuality. Travel is never entirely apolitical — you must always think about where you’re traveling, why and how you go about it. There is often a thin line between traveling to controversial locations and validating oppression and mistreatment versus using your travel as an opportunity to support marginalized communities and raise awareness on important issues. The decision to visit these sorts of destinations will always be a personal judgment call, and should depend heavily on how you’ll go about your travel.

Abu Dhabi is perfectly geographically positioned to give students the opportunity to travel to a huge number of places that many people only dream of seeing, as are many of NYU’s global sites for study away semesters. It is an ideal time to take advantage of that geographic proximity, especially when within a diverse community like NYUAD, you can always find someone who is from your travel destination or who has spent time there themselves. Ahead of my trip to Perú, I spoke to five different NYUAD students and alumni who gave extensive recommendations and tips for travel, guaranteeing we’d have a successful visit.

This is an experience I would not have had if not for the connections and opportunities I’ve had at NYUAD and on study away, and I’m immensely grateful and glad that we made our trip. I would encourage any NYUAD student to take advantage of these sorts of chances to travel, but would remind us all to be aware of the realities in which we are inserting ourselves as tourists and guests. We must all do our research and be respectful to avoid any possibility of exploitation or other harm.