In early 2016, I went to Ukraine to visit the nuclear disaster site of Chernobyl. I expected that there would be bribery and deals to get us in – but of course there were not. The site has been open to the public since 2010.
Visiting Chernobyl is a strange experience: you’re body scanned at the border to test radiation levels and you’re required to sign a waiver acknowledging the risks associated with encountering radiation. But the levels within the zone are safe – given that you stay only for a short time.
Recently there have been a lot of stories about Chernobyl selfies, snapshots taken against macabre backgrounds that give the impression that tourism to these places is suddenly booming. But this kind of tourism is not new. It’s been called dark tourism. Early examples of dark tourism are familiar in the form of medieval public executions or excursions to cemeteries and battlefields.
Critics of dark tourism often refer to disrespectful behaviour at disaster sites, like visitors to the concentration camp Auschwitz who were seen joking, jostling to take photos, or wandering disinterested room-to-room.
The problem of dark tourism is that by focusing on the past, it often ignores the ongoing, living culture of places and those who live there. Perhaps all visitors need to ask themselves, why do I want to visit this place at all?
Considerando as informações do texto, a expressão “dark tourism” refere-se
A) a excursões para regiões com paisagens e construçõesescondidas.
B) à infração de leis para visitar lugares cujo acesso é proibido ao público.
C) à postura desrespeitosa de determinados turistas em locais de visitação.
D) a locais que o turista pode visitar caso aprovado em uma rígida entrevista.
E) à visitação de destinos incomuns onde ocorreram acontecimentos trágicos.
Resposta
E) à visitação de destinos incomuns onde ocorreram acontecimentos trágicos.
