The Broken And The Beautiful
Recent Thoughts
“I came here for my holidays, not to suffer,” the woman hissed at me.
The reason for her outburst was a broken balcony light; the romantic electric candles we had placed instead had apparently ruined her vacation. Like many others this summer, she had arrived with a suitcase full of personal frustrations and unreflected expectations.
Hospitality can show you the worst in people.
Sometimes, the energy in the room shifts the moment the guest walks through the door. A forced smile, a nervous finger tap. For others, the expression of a smile turns into narrowed eyes the instant something doesn’t sit right. Mountains out of molehills: a spider in the room (it is not that we are in the mountains here surrounded by nature, but ohh well...), a scent no one else can smell, an uneven floor, a truck passing by and suddenly scaring a child who is usually never afraid, or a refund request because of a dripping shower they hadn't closed properly.
Meanwhile, outside our bubble, bombs are falling, children are starving, and the planet has hit its first climate tipping point. I feel my patience and empathy cracking, collapsing slowly, like a house of cards.
I find it perplexing that so many guests choose to tether themselves to the reception desk in the afternoon, consumed by complaints and discussions, rather than enjoying the breathtaking mountain scenery with their companions. Sometimes, I wonder if they really dislike spending time with their partner or family that much.
But beneath this behavior lie the familiar patterns of human psychology. Is it a need for perceived control? To feel seen? Or an underlying desire for reassurance?
People often travel with the consumer glasses on: "I pay, therefore I deserve." I understand the anticipation that comes with a long-awaited vacation. However, travel marketing frequently presents an idealized image of travel, showcasing polished pictures and using fancy descriptions filled with terms like "boutique" or "luxury." Social Media has only intensified this desire for curated perfection.
It teaches people that any form of discomfort must be avoided. And in that pursuit of perfection, many forget that they are guests in a different country, with its own culture, customs, and rhythm of life.
The complaints themselves are not the problem; there are always solutions, or if not, compensations. What makes you question your belief in humanity is the arrogance, disrespect, and entitlement some people bring when they enter a hotel or restaurant. Words like slut, dumb, ugly, and “Do you want to get fired?” have been thrown at colleagues simply trying to do their jobs.
When did we become servants rather than hosts?
Sometimes I pray that Grindelwald is just a simulation, a test of patience, resilience, and psychology. But then I see reels and memes from hospitality workers around the world, and I know: this is our shared reality.
By the end of the season, we, the staff, feel drained. Burnout seems inevitable, the mood shifts, and stress turns inward. This struggle is nothing new; it happens every year. But it shouldn't be this way.
I have been working in hospitality since I was 18. My first job paid five euros an hour. I remember polishing cutlery in the beer garden until 3 a.m. after a 14-hour shift while everyone else enjoyed their Feierabend Bier. Later, while working in a bar, we didn’t receive tips, but the owner allowed us to drink instead. The day I poured myself a beer after a hard shift, he shouted at me. I quit.
Conversations about tips and long hours have always been a source of frustration. Why is hospitality, an industry that should embody care and exchange, so often structured to be extractive?
The systems in place prioritize profit over people.
The same mechanisms that overlook local voices in destination management also exploit workers in insecure conditions.
And yet I am passionate about my job.
While the unpleasant encounters tend to stay longer in your bones, the majority of interactions are kind, joyful, and reaffirm that hospitality is a generous act of giving.
We meet people from all over the world, learn about other cultures even when we aren’t traveling ourselves, and help create memories. Honeymoons, family trips, birthdays, first holidays with a baby. Every time we set up a marriage proposal, I feel the guest’s nerves in my own chest. If we do our jobs well, we become part of their stories.
Just as my partner and I still talk about the people who hosted us during our own travels, these encounters are what make hospitality meaningful. They are what keep me here — holding both what is broken and what is beautiful.
Tourism and travel themselves are not the problem. The real issues lie in power dynamics, decision-making processes, profit-driven enterprises, leadership, and marketing promises that have turned travel into a consumer product.
It is these issues that motivate me to rethink tourism and travel. And lately, I have been thinking a lot about how we movefrom theoretical concepts, such as regeneration as a paradigm shift, into practical action.
Regeneration is often discussed in board meetings, workshops, or on LinkedIn, but rarely in break rooms. Yet, it is the housekeepers, receptionists, waitstaff, porters, and kitchen workers who keep the system running, and who should be the real co-creators in the evolution of this industry.
Life Lately
I recently attended an online workshop titled “From Stress to Flow: Creating Team Cultures Where Wellbeing and Business Success Thrive Together.”
Organised by Think like a Tree, it appeared on my LinkedIn feed at just the right time. Exhausted from work and the relentless pace of the season, it felt like a much-needed intervention. While the workshop didn’t delve very deeply, it reminded me to stop looking at situations only through a problem-solving, reactive mindset and instead focus on what is already working well and how to develop from there.
We were asked to define our own meaning for the verb to thrive.
A word often used in a regenerative context, for me, thriving means that people, communities, places, and ecosystems can evolve to their full potential, creating a harmonious balance between development and wellbeing.
Now, I would like to pass this question on to you:
What does it mean for you to thrive?
Upcoming Travel Plans
🇱🇰 Sri Lanka in November
I will be writing my next newsletter from Sri Lanka. The trip is booked, I'm counting down the weeks. Along with the excitement, I feel a little nervousness tiptoeing in. You would think that after traveling for seven months across seven countries, the pre-nerves would be gone. However, with each new adventure, that familiar travel fever comes back.
We have reserved some beautiful accommodations, and I am curious to experience Sri Lankan hospitality, which I have read and heard so much about, as well as to try delicious food. I will be sharing stories from the trip soon, but first, we'll spend some quality time at home. This is one of the bonuses of working in a seasonal job: we have five weeks off again, and now it is our turn to travel. :)
- Recommended
BOOKS / MUSIC / PODCASTS / FILMS / ARTWORK
It is easy to say “I am against capitalism” while continuing to participate in it unreflectively. Harder, but maybe more meaningful, is to understand why things are the way they are and what could be built differently. I began reading Henderson’s book because I was looking for hope. Believing wholeheartedly that change is possible, I sometimes lack the imagination for what that could look like, or the awareness of what is already working and what is beautiful — in a world on fire.
Henderson doesn’t argue for dismantling capitalism but for reimagining it, transforming markets so they serve people and the planet, not just profit. I often challenge the idea that “nothing works better than capitalism,” asking better for whom, and at what cost? Still, her work reminds me that change is both structural and personal, and that even within a system that feels unshakable, new models of cooperation, trust, and shared value can emerge.
(If you only listen to one podcast today, listen to this one.)
In my journey to reconnect with nature and understand it as a teacher, I have been grappling with what that truly means, not just as a concept but in my daily life and practice.
Listening to Julia Watson’s conversation on the Clever podcast opened my eyes to new insights. Her work demonstrates that working with nature rather than against it is not merely a romantic ideal but a profoundly practical approach to climate resilience and design.
She names how, in the Western world, we have often been taught to dominate nature, to control, extract, and reshape it. In doing so, we have become disconnected from its wisdom. As someone curious to remember and reconnect with this forgotten knowledge, I find Julia’s work incredibly inspiring. She bridges local and traditional ecological knowledge with contemporary design, consciously moving beyond appropriation and practicing co-evolution instead.
The systems she describes, such as the sewage-fed aquaculture of Kolkata or the living root bridges of the Khasi people, are vivid examples of how humans and nature can collaborate to create systems that adapt, regenerate, and endure.
I also loved the closing part of the conversation, where she speaks on a more personal level about how she integrates sustainability into her everyday life and how her work influences the way she is raising her children, even how she approaches childbirth and postpartum care through the lens of diverse cultural practices.
Want to Share Something Too?
Thank you for being here and for taking the time to read these words. I hope they gift you a moment of inspiration or simply something to think about. I've come to realize that writing is one of my love languages, a way to make sense of the world, to express myself and connect, and to offer something that might resonate beyond me.
If something in this edition spoke to you, I would love to hear from you. Earlier, I shared a question with you: What does thriving mean to you? I am genuinely curious to hear your thoughts.
You can reply directly to this email or reach out on social media.
With love, Zaza
