Hate Valve #1: Your Vacation is a Content Shoot

Hate Valve is a weekly column exploring cultural absurdities born from modern tech use. This week, I rant about a classic irritation: the phone habits of tourists.

If you’re planning a European getaway this summer, prepare for a filtered experience. Since smartphone photography became folk sport, vacationing couples have become the most devoted lens-athletes.

For the last three months I have been holed up in Milan on a research stay, making full use of its rail network for day trips. The romantic-getaway season is in full swing here and Instagram couples are diligently at work. After visiting a dozen cities, it’s easy to see why the Italians abhor mass tourism: The country has been reduced to a curated backdrop for the social media generation. Everywhere you look, phones are unholstered and ready to shoot.

Meals Have Become Choreographed Photography Workshops

Recently, at a restaurant in Florence, I witnessed one duo debate the menu for over twenty minutes. The man wanted ravioli but his wife convinced him to order the polpo e patate instead. “It’s going to look so good, babe,” she argued, eyeing the dish on the table beside them. To sweeten the deal, she allowed him a glass of wine with lunch (what grace, what mercy).

Yet when the wine came she sternly instructed him to leave it, explaining that a half-empty glass would ruin the aesthetic of the meal. Banned from enjoying his Chablis, the man used the glass as a selfie prop. Not a word was shared while waiting for the food either. Instead, each party retreated into their phones and had a lovely scroll. Who says romance is dead? Then, right as the plates hit the table, an extensive dance of setup and snaps ensued. By the time every angle was exhausted, the wine was warm and the food was cold.

This incident was not a one-off. At cafés, bakeries, and bars, you would be hard pressed to find anyone daring to pick up their fork before their phone. With customers choosing where to eat and drink based on online ratings, playing to the camera is prioritized over delivering an authentic meal that reflects local culture. Plating is no longer a practice for the palate. It can’t be when customers demand an experience fit for film.

Even if you want to keep your phone tucked away, you will struggle . Restaurants often replace menus with QR codes (an irritating holdover from the pandemic), and ordering occurs through a phone. If you are lucky enough to receive a paper menu, the bottom of it likely features a list of suggested hashtags, should you desire to post about your experience. At the end of the meal, instead of your waiter handing you a paper bill, you are made to pay through the same QR code. Then, your waiter — whose professional identity has been scraped thin — might nudge you toward writing a that review, “remember to tag us!” The lens eats first and it’s famished.

While sneaking a photo of lunch is nothing new, the extent to which the restaurant experience has been engineered to keep your phone in your hand is scary. Next time you’re out to eat on a trip, look around. What you will find is a collective retreat from an opportunity for genuine human connection in favor of capturing a moment that resembles one. Remember to drink your wine when it’s served, and if you desperately need a meticulously staged photo of a culinary experience, just ask any other table to AirDrop you theirs. Seriously, any table at all will do.

This is Going to Get So Many Likes

On another trip, this time to Venice, every bridge I passed was lined with couples mid-shoot. Women posed in summer dresses and straw hats. The men leaned back to capture wide angles and shouted guiding instructions. Phones were exchanged back and forth. Model and photographer eagerly switched roles. Faces and bodies twisted into new poses between shutter clicks. During a moment of role exchange one man studiously scrolled through his work, and giddy with joy, told his partner, “this is going to get so many likes.” What a thoughtful compliment.

As the sun traversed the Venetian sky, a queue of photo fiends amassed at the base of the bridge. All of them careful not to disturb the sacred ritual which they, too, had gathered to partake in. There I stood, longing to barrel through, caught between photo-takers and photo-awaiters. The beating sun faded the sanctity of the ritual and I soon began zigzagging my way through. Halfway to the other side, a pair of Spanish lovebirds, undeterred by my cantankerous demeanor, asked me to take their photo. Although my photography skills rival those of a chimp with a hand tremor, I obliged. At least they wanted a picture together.

I realize that’s my core qualm: traveling has become a performative solo experience, even when done in pairs. If you’re traveling with a partner, a good rule of thumb is to take at least as many photos with them as without them. And if the trip itinerary primarily revolves around photo-ops, a Photoshop job off Fiverr might do the trick for a lot less damage.

If it was up to me, all vacation mementos would be dad-style selfies, taken together. Low angles, slightly off-center, with one person mushed into frame. Instead of posted to social media, they would exclusively be sent to my father, who would find the pictures cool and good. I know this because he replies to the selfies I send him with a thumbs up emoji.

Digital Intentionalism Trumps Minimalism

Today, we’re all facing the question of how to manage our technology usage. I’m right there with you. For most of us it’s not an option to hurl our iPhone off a bridge and buy a Nokia re-issue. I, for one, am dependent on maps to find anything further away than my feet. I also like the good bits about technology. I can do my job from just about anywhere as long as I have my laptop with me. That’s a huge upside, and why digital minimalism seems like the wrong approach to live a happier life. Digital intentionalism better captures my desired use case for technology.

When people go minimal, they struggle to keep up new habits, and instead experience lowered technology use like a detox or diet. In essence, a short-term fix that quickly loses steam. Once the novelty wears off we return to our previous habits. Unhappy and unchanged. Long-term changes require new habits. Permanent ones.

Here are three I try to stick to:

• Wear a watch — I used to find myself picking up my phone to check the time, then see a notification, and get lost in the scroll. A watch cuts down on daily phone-pickups. Simple, yet effective.

• Take pictures to share, not to post — To the detriment of my seven Instagram followers, I took down all my posts and eventually deleted the app altogether. I still take photos, but only share them directly with close friends and family. I’ve noticed an uptick in people using disposable cameras, too. Neat idea, but hard to sustain long term.

• No phones at the table — Be difficult. Ask for a paper menu. Pay with a physical card or go old school and pay in cash. Most of all, try and talk to the person across from you.

These three habits aren’t life changing, but they will make a good dent in correcting unhealthy smartphone habits. An old colleague of mine, of those who enjoyed repeating clever phrases he saw on Facebook, used to say: Are you working the phone, or is the phone working you?

If you’re uncomfortable with your answer, maybe it’s time for a change.