For as long as I can remember, summers in Morocco came with a side of my dad’s running commentary directed towards whatever caught his eye. As a typical grumpy Arab father, no one got under his skin quite like a certain type of foreign tourist.
Like most children my age, I thought that my parents were just being dramatic— annoying even. It wasn’t until I got a little older, grew a few hairs on my chin, and started paying closer attention, that I began to understand why certain things tourists did— things I once thought as harmless— would trigger such reactions from my dad. But with time, I started seeing those reactions for what they were: not irritations over a specific interaction itself, but over old wounds that would re-open through behaviors that came as reminders of a long history of being looked at, spoken to, and treated through the patronizing gaze of colonialism.
In his younger days, he remembered European tourists strutting through the streets of the North African kingdom like ex-landlords returning to check on an old estate— a sight reminiscent of a past we’d all like to leave behind. By the time I came of age, I noticed the children of those same tourists flocking back, claiming to break that cycle only to reenact it, cloaked in a false sense of politeness and repackaged to fit the language of progress. The behavior? Slightly different. The outcome? The exact same.
The phenomenon, which is anything but new, has long been discussed and dissected by post-colonial authors around the world, the most notable of whom is Edward Said. In his book Orientalism, the Palestinian-American author explores how the West has historically constructed and distorted the image of “the East” to fit a certain image, one that is romanticised when convenient, vilified when necessary, and almost always told from a Western point of view.
Because there are two kinds of travelers in this world: those who know how to act, and those who don’t. Some countries have a reputation for producing the latter, their nationals reputed for being full of entitlement, cluelessness, and for being culturally tone-deaf to their surroundings. We won’t name names or else the whole Western World might get upset.
Usually known for off-boarding planes with suitcases full of preconceptions and zero effort to genuinely engage with locals (and when they do, it’s usually at their expense) this genre of traveller exists almost solely to cherry-pick the parts of a place that can be flattened into a dinner-party anecdote, discarding the rest almost entirely. The vocabulary, though it has changed, comes with a logic that is as old as time, only softened and rebranded to fit, on surface level at least, the definition of open-mindedness à la 2025.
If the above sounds anything little like you, keep reading, as we’ve compiled a list of dos and don’ts to never (ever) be that person again.
Do Your Homework
Google is your friend. At the very least, learn how to say “hello,” “thank you,” and “where’s the bathroom?” in the local language. You don’t need to be fluent, but making an effort shows basic respect and it goes a long way. Locals notice when you try, and more often than not, they’ll meet you halfway.
And while you’re at it, take some time to understand the local laws, customs, and cultural no-gos. Every country has its red lines and no, “I didn’t know” won’t get you out of a fine, a scolding, or an awkward scene in the middle of the street. What might be totally normal where you’re from could come across as rude, ignorant, or even illegal elsewhere. A quick search online can save you a lot of trouble, and more importantly, help you move through the world with a little more grace.
When in Rome, Don’t Be Rude
Not everything is “weird” or “strange”, you’re just not used to it. So before you wrinkle your nose or say something like “this would never happen back home,” take a breath, pause, and remind yourself: you’re not back home. You’re in someone else’s space. You don’t have to agree with everything, but you do have to respect it. Making loud, offhand remarks or turning cultural differences into punchlines just makes you look ignorant. Keep the commentary in your group chat, and make your parents proud. You were raised better than that, now’s your chance to show it.
Our Clothes Aren’t Costumes
You might think that slipping into a traditional outfit for a quick selfie is “immersing yourself in the culture,” but here’s the thing: that outfit probably has a meaning, a history, or even a sacred value that doesn’t need to be paraded on your Instagram as cute OOTD. If someone offers it to you, great, wear it with respect and without turning it into a gimmick. If they don’t, admire it from afar or get yourself a piece but just be mindful of it and its background.
Poverty Isn’t an Aesthetic
Let’s stop romanticizing poverty. That “authentic, untouched little village” you’re raving about? Yeah, people actually live there and most likely not by choice. Calling it “charming” or “so humbling” while snapping pics of crumbling houses and barefoot kids isn’t deep, it’s tone-deaf. You’re not discovering some hidden gem. You’re just passing through someone else’s reality. Not everything needs a sepia-toned filter and a faux-philosophical caption.
Bargain, Don’t Bully or Low Ball
Yes, haggling is part of the game in some places, and sometimes even fun. But there’s a big difference between negotiating and being just plain stingy. Trying to knock $2 off handmade goods while being decked out in head-to-toe designer? It isn’t a good look, and quite frankly, it’s insulting. Of course, no one is saying you should get scammed or pay tourist trap prices without question, but remember— if you can afford a $5 latte back home, you can also afford to pay someone fairly. Don’t let stinginess be your legacy abroad.
You’re Not the Main Character
Sorry to break it to you, but the world isn’t your movie set. Don’t blast music, don’t block narrow alleyways to snap the perfect picture, and definitely don’t argue with staff or treat locals as your personal tour guides. Be aware of your surroundings and mindful of how you move through space, whether it’s taking someone’s photo, entering a sacred site, or wandering into a neighborhood that’s not meant for tourists. Smile when interacting with the people around and always ask before you do *literally* anything because it’s better to be safe than sorry from a cell.
Eat Without Offending
Food is sacred, so if you’re lucky enough to be offered a meal somewhere far from home, treat it with the respect it deserves. That means brushing up on your table manners before you land. Every place has its own etiquette—from whether to eat with your hands to how to sit, when to speak, and what not to touch — and no, “I didn’t know” doesn’t excuse being rude. That also means keep your “ew”s to yourself (unless you’re five), eat what’s on your plate, and tip if the country’s customs call for it.
Leave the Victim Card at Home
Look, traveling can be chaotic. Delays happen, you might lose your luggage, get scammed by a fake taxi, or drop your passport in a canal (it’s happened). But here’s the thing: none of that is anyone else’s fault than your own. Throwing a tantrum in public, demanding to “speak to a manager,” or blaming an entire country because your phone died at the market is just embarrassing. The best thing you can do is be prepared. Have backups, make copies of important documents, learn a few emergency phrases, and expect the unexpected. And when things go sideways, take a breath, laugh it off, and adapt like every other grown adult who decided to leave their home country willingly.
Locals Aren’t Props
Repeat after us: people are not background characters in your vacation content. That man sitting outside his shop? He’s not there to add local color to your Instagram dump. Same goes for the kids playing in the street or the woman walking past in traditional dress. If you didn’t ask, don’t post. If someone says no, respect it.
Don’t Litter
This shouldn’t need saying, but here we are: don’t litter. Not at home, not abroad, not in the middle of the Sahara or on the streets of Tokyo, and not on Mars (when we eventually get there). Just… don’t. Nothing says “I don’t care about this place or its people” quite like treating it like your personal trash can.
