Why Does Every City Feel the Same Now?

It All Blurs Together Until You Get a Little Lost

By Anya Yasenovets

Photograph by Mia Bianco

I travel because I want to know what different cultures look, taste, and sound like. I am curious about how life feels in different countries, but often, Dubai reminds me of New York City, and San Juan resembles Boston. Most places I have traveled to feature the same touristy streets with the same stores and the same latte art.

Competition for visitors has led cities to be increasingly designed for tourists—not for their residents. They use a formula proven to work: walkable consumption zones populated with international brands and Instagram-friendly restaurants. Global tourist destinations now feel interchangeable: does it really matter if I eat my croissants in Paris or Seoul?

This spring, I visited my friend in San Juan, and we went out clubbing. She told me how one of the streets used to be filled with local clubs, but now the only Puerto Rican music they play is Bad Bunny. No one spoke Spanish at the club, and even though I had a lot of fun, it felt like any other club in Boston.

The next day, we decided to explore and ended up in a vibrant, cozy bar in Dorado. People played music I had never heard before, danced in ways I didn’t know, and served much cheaper beer. We talked to locals and played pool for the rest of the night. The bar felt like a place I wasn’t supposed to find. But after hearing stories and being a part of the night, I began to understand what life in Puerto Rico truly felt like. It was fulfilling and genuinely new.

Tourists create a huge demand for authenticity, so cities are forced to manufacture artificial versions of it. They build restaurants with traditional food that differs drastically from the traditional food locals eat. They sell you what they think you want, not what they would want for themselves.

The “authentic” experiences offered by major tourist destinations are so carefully curated—to look good on social media, earn as many positive reviews as possible, and maximize profit—that there is nothing authentic left. It feels like looking at a picture of the ocean instead of actually swimming.

Beyond this superficial authenticity, gentrification reshapes residents’ lives and infrastructure. Historic neighborhoods are turned into commercialized attractions, and tourist-oriented businesses keep raising prices, forcing locals out. In doing so, they gradually displace the very cultures and communities travelers hope to experience.

So how do I still learn from a place I visit? My biggest advice is to slow down, pay attention to detail, and ask questions. How do people treat each other? What is the story behind this building? How does this make me feel? It doesn't matter how big or small your questions are; it’s about what excites you the most.

Approaching every place with genuine curiosity instead of consumption has helped me get the most out of each trip (and often save money). I believe travelling is about adventures, not consumption, and even with widespread gentrification, there is so much to learn from the places we visit!