The debate about whether journalists and bloggers should accept freebies is so old and hoary that I’m reluctant to bring it up again. But my recent experience in Germany shed a bit of new light on it for me, so tough, back to the well-chewed territory…

For those not in the know, often travel journalists – and increasingly, bloggers – will get hosted free of charge by tourist boards, hotels etc in the hope/ expectation that coverage in certain publications and online outlets will result. Some publications and writers get high and mighty about this, saying they won’t take freebies as it leads to biased coverage. Other writers do take them, and insist that even though they’re accepting the hospitality, it doesn’t influence what they eventually write.

My stance

I stand somewhere in the middle. I no longer go on group press trips (which are usually about herding x number of journalists around on a bus, all covering exactly the same things and with very little if any time to explore independently) but I do accept – and often actively seek – free hotel rooms, tours, attraction tickets etc. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a necessary evil, more about keeping costs down than anything else.

Where I will go against the grain is the issue of bias. Is what I write likely to be biased as a result of accepting hospitality? Yes it is. And any writer that says otherwise is lying to themselves. The key question – and the one that no-one seems to elaborate on as they’re all too busy saying bias is full stop bad and that it doesn’t happen anyway – is “What sort of bias?”

Types of bias

For me, the bias is that if I’ve stayed somewhere for free or done a tour for free, I’m more likely to write about it in some way. This is pretty obvious. I’m less likely to write about something I’ve not experienced. So, yes, I’m more likely to seek to write stories about places and topics where I know I can keep my costs down through hosting. Is that unethical? I’m not sure, but it’s an uncomfortable admission that any writer who does accept freebies should make.

For me, the crucial question is whether not whether something does get coverage but the tone of that coverage. The companies and tourism authorities giving away the freebies aren’t stupid. They know that coverage is far more likely to be positive than negative. The problem comes when this becomes a tacit understanding between host and guest. There are many writers (and I’m sure, bloggers) out there who are quite happy to enter this unspoken pact in order to keep the good life coming. And this is why the whole question of whether to accept comps, FOCS, press trips and famils has come up.

The freebie test

Last week, I found myself put to the test on this front. I was researching a guide to Frankfurt for a newspaper travel section. The tourist board had put me up in what is rated as one of the best hotels in the city. Quite what the deal between the tourist board and the hotel was, I don’t know and I didn’t ask, but it would be fair to assume that all parties would be expecting me to include said hotel in the accommodation section of the guide.

Alas, there was a problem. Or, rather, numerous little problems. The carpets were stained, the maid was knocking on my door expecting to clean my room at 8.20am and then didn’t return by the time I’d got back at 4.30pm, internet access cost EUR22 a day and was excruciatingly slow, breakfast cost EUR32, little bottles of water from the minibar cost EUR7, the towels were thin and paltry rather than big and fluffy… and so on. Nothing in itself was truly awful, but the succession of small things added up to a hotel that is trading on past reputation, is blatantly profiteering at the customer’s expense and has become lazy in catering for its guests. When the (slightly dated and mundane) rooms regularly cost EUR200 a night, this is not good enough. Particularly when I had also inspected other hotels in roughly the same price bracket and they, frankly, were doing a better job.

Best course of action?

There was no way I could honestly recommend the hotel I was being hosted in as one of the best three top end hotels in Frankfurt. So, what does a writer do in this situation? If the answer is to just slip it in anyway as all the other guides do, no-one will pull you up on it and it’ll keep everyone happy, then there is a problem. This, for me, is where the ethical line is crossed.

As far as I was concerned, there was only one thing I could do: leave it out. If I was actually commissioned to review the place rather than pick out three top choices in town, I’d have written a not-exactly-flattering review.

But what about the fact that I was being hosted? How should I deal with the (probably expectant) PR people at the tourist board and, if necessary, the hotel. My solution probably isn’t perfect, but I e-mailed the woman from the tourist board explaining why the hotel would be left out. Unfortunately, I was then collared by one of the management team at check out, who asked how my stay was. I could have just muttered “fine” and sauntered off, but I felt the right thing to do was explain how I felt about the hotel and why I’d not be including it in the story. It was an excruciating couple of minutes, but I still feel it was the right thing to do. To his credit, the chap took it on the chin rather well, admitted to a few of the faults and explained that a substantial refurbishment is on the cards. Good on him – at least he’s aware of the problems and is prepared to deal with them.

The pact

This to me is the pact that you really should be making if, as a writer, you accept free stuff. It’s not the unspoken agreement to provide fluffy, glowing coverage that matters; it’s the responsibility to stand up and explain yourself in situations where your integrity would be compromised by fulfilling that unspoken agreement. And if you’re not prepared to do that, you should think long and hard about whether you’re doing the right job.

Many websites – be they for hotel, airlines or generic travel companies trying to build their own brand – go down the travel guide route. All seem to do much the same thing; the sort of material that you’d find in a guidebook, only in a more condensed form. In essence, they’re trying to satisfy a web audience with a scarcely altered print format.

In print, the sameness doesn’t matter too much. You generally just buy one guidebook – and you go with the one that’s most up to date or that you trust the brand of. On the web, your site has to stand out. And thus the content has to be distinctive – but how to make it so?

A few good suggestions are gathering under the comments on Jeremy’s post, but I think two things are key…

Stop trying to appeal to everyone

Most guides try to offer something for everyone; they try to cover the range of options and tastes as best as they possibly can. And this is what leads to them becoming generic – they’re not written from the perspective of a particular segment of the target audience.

To make something distinctive, I think you need to identify what that target market is – be it businessmen, foodies, golfers, art buffs or parents with kids. I’d argue that there is one target market that is scandalously undercatered for – the traveller with a reasonable budget that just wants somewhere decent to stay whilst enjoying their break. These people are often made to feel left out by guides, which insist on calling rooms for under £100 a night “budget”, concentrating on ‘hip’ cocktail bars where a drink costs a day’s wages and only really going into detail about the town’s high end restaurants. These travellers – who don’t want to stay in a hostel, but want a decent place to stay for between approximately £40 and £80 a night – make up a significant percentage of the market, but are often made to feel like tight-fisted freaks.

A guide concentrating on that sector of the market, that focuses on the good rather than the cool and the value for money rather the cheapest or most lavish, would be distinctive. It could list and review scores of hotels in the £40 to £100 bracket rather than a token one or two, and it could include those pleasant terrace restaurants where the food is reasonable and the views are nice – the ones that are often left out because they’re not cool enough.

That’s one way of doing it. The other is to have numerous pages of the guide concentrating on particular niches. What are the best places for those businessmen, foodies, golfers, art buffs or parents with kids?

Stop trying to avoid offence

When I read a guide, I want to know the bad things. They put the good things in perspective. Objectivity is the last thing I want – opinion is a vital component of a guide.

You can usually tell when a guidebook writer hasn’t stayed at a hotel or eaten at a restaurant. If they have, they usually mention something specific or one of the negatives about the place. No-one ever writes anything negative about something they haven’t experienced themselves – a feisty opinion is more likely to draw attention and see the writer/ researcher caught out in the long run. Thus, a smattering of brutally frank one-liners helps build trust.

It also, on a more cynical level, builds page views. I know when Ninemsn commissioned a series of Insider Guides, it was always the Where Not To Go pages (such as this one for Darwin) that were in the most viewed list.

Alas, it’s an easy option to paint everywhere and everything on the OK-to-wonderful scale. Highlighting negatives gets peoples backs up. Hotels and restaurants complain and cause hassle, tourist boards are less inclined to give support when coverage isn’t likely to be glowing and local people start getting overdefensive.

But to be distinctive, you need to piss a few people off. Trying to stand out on the web is like trying to be a stand up comic – you can’t rely on jokes that nobody is offended by, because no-one will come to see you. Be brave; break a few eggs to make the omelette.

Part of this comes back to identifying the audience you’re writing for. When you’re writing for everyone, there’s always that nagging doubt that your opinion of a place won’t match that of people with completely different mindset and budget. You can’t say that the ‘hip’ cocktail bar is full of tossers because a number of such tossers will be reading your guide. Once you’ve decided who you are aiming at, you can tailor the criticism. A £30 shabby two star might seem like a palace to backpackers, but it’s a poor option for that unheralded group I was speaking about earlier – they’d be better off in the reasonable chain four star that you can get for £15 more. Whether the two star is a bargain upgrade from a dorm or a down-at-heel slum depends entirely on your perspective. A guide publisher needs to decide what that perspective is first – and then tell writers to adopt it and be warts-and-all in their coverage.

On Friday night, I decided to try out a new restaurant (Piccolino in Sheffield city centre if you must know). The food was good, the décor quite impressive and the location excellent. But the service drove me mental.

Bad service?

I’m sure everyone can point to incidences of appalling service they’ve had in the past; it’s easy to identify surly behaviour, plain rudeness, consistently getting orders wrong and dawdling to the point of starvation as “bad”. But what got on my nerves on Friday was what some people – including the staff at Piccolino – would regard as good, bordering on excellent, service.

‘Good’ service that’s actually bad

It was clear that the staff had been trained, but evidently the training manuals overdid it somewhat. It seemed as though someone was in our face every two minutes, asking whether they could take our coats, give us a different menu, refill the wine or just ask how everything was going.

And it was consistently done in that obsequious manner that comes across as false as the “Have a great day!” in an American fast food joint.

Constant interruptions

There was no co-ordination – two or three different people would come over to ask exactly the same thing. This is annoying when it’s something useful, such as “Would you like the dessert menu?” and absolutely infuriating when they’re constantly interrupting your dinner to see whether you’re enjoying it.

Breaking point

At one point, I snapped. A chap who looked like the manager became the third person to ask how our main course was. I replied with a forced grin: “Fine at the moment, but could you send someone else over in a couple of minutes to check again?”

He seemed to have got the point and mumbled an apology, but unsurprisingly, yet another gushing minion showed his face with the same polite enquiry within a few mouthfuls.

Driving test service

To me, this is the equivalent of doing your driving test and making ostentatious displays of turning your head to look in the mirror, just to demonstrate to the instructor that you are looking in the mirror. It’s actually bad practice, but it shows that you’re doing what you’re supposed to be doing.

But good service isn’t about following a list of instructions and intrusively showing that you’re following them. It’s about judging the needs of the customer and behaving accordingly.

Hotel greetings

In a similar vein, I can’t stand it when I arrive at a hotel to be swarmed over by seven eager lackeys wanting to take my bag and smother me in refreshing towels. I also don’t want to have to sit down with a cheap fruit cocktail drink in a wine glass for twenty minutes while someone reels off a list of facilities.

And when I finally get to the room, I certainly don’t want a 15 minute tour of it in order to learn how the taps or the bed works.

Good service

Just get me checked in as quickly as possible, with the minimum of fuss, and then leave me to it. If I’ve got a problem, I’ll let you know about it. If you know there’s a problem, deal with it without – if at all possible – me having to be aware of it. That, my friends, is good service. And if more people within the hospitality industry could be aware of this, then it would be greatly appreciated.

While I completely understand your right to brand your hotels – after all, your guests will often choose to stay with you because they know what the brand name usually offers – you are starting to take the piss.

Let me explain something about names. My name is David Whitley. It is not David Whitley (an Eric Whitley child). Neither is it The Travel Journalist David Whitley, a human being by Eric Whitley Fathering Services Networking Services Ltd (TM).

You see, there is a difference between a name and a sentence. If your name is a sentence in itself, it is too long. And, hotel chains, I’m the one that gets to decide on sub-clauses in sentences – not you.

So if you think I’m ever going to refer to you as the Ritz-Carlton Chicago (A Four Seasons Hotel) or the Hawksbill by Rex Resorts, Antigua, then think again. You can be the Chicago Ritz Carlton, the Chicago Four Seasons, the Antigua Hawksbill or the Antigua Rex but if you insist on branding everything then just pick one name and stick to it. Having two is greedy, long-winded and – 90% of the time – grammatically dubious.

The same goes for you, Marriott Boca Raton Towneplace Suites and Hilton Seychelles Northolme Resort and Spa. And all of your pompous, word count-devouring chums. You’re either the Marriott Boca Raton or the Boca Raton Towneplace Suites; the Hilton Seychelles or the Northolme Seychelles. Decide which brand is strongest, and bloody well keep it to one.

If this trend for turning hotel names into corporate identity statements continues, then who knows where we’ll end up? Why be a sentence, when you can be a whole paragraph? Heck, why not insist that every website using your name plays a little corporate jingle as soon as the page loads, like Intel?

Your sincerely,

David Whitley – not Travel Writer and Blogger Mr David Keir Whitley Esquire of Sheffield, England, by Eric and Rosie Whitley (a UK national) *ding ding ding ding ding*.

Millionaire’s giveaway

A fascinating story has been doing the rounds today about an Austrian millionaire who plans to give away his entire £3m fortune and live like a pauper.

Karl Radeber seems to have decided that money makes him unhappy, and whilst I’ll not be agreeing with that any time soon, one quote attributed to him fascinates me.

Luxury holiday revelation

According to the Daily Telegraph, he was on a luxury holiday in Hawai’i when he realised what he was going to do.

“It was the biggest shock in my life, when I realised how horrible, soulless and without feeling the five star lifestyle is,” he said. “In those three weeks, we spent all the money you could possibly spend. But in all that time, we had the feeling we hadn’t met a single real person – that we were all just actors. The staff played the role of being friendly and the guests played the role of being important and nobody was real.”

I read this, and thought: “I’m glad it’s not just me.”

Discomfort

Let’s get one thing straight: I have no plans to give away all my money, and if I did the windfalls for those involved would be laughably pitiful. The Radeber story did bring into focus how uncomfortable I am with five star hotels and pampering in general, however.

Five star fears

To put it simply, I am crap at luxury travel. Put me in an extremely expensive, posh hotel and I can usually be found thinking: “Well, this is a bit much, isn’t it?”

I’m afraid of committing some unspoken social faux pas, I’m forever baffled by all the unnecessary flourishes in the rooms and I’m terrified that I’m going to end up being billed for extortionate amounts if I so much as touch a random piece of fruit or miniature toiletry.

Porter problems

I’m also dreadful at being looked after – I squirm whenever a genuflecting receptionist brings out a ‘refreshing’ towel on a tray and I can’t stand it when a porter wants to take my bag for me. I’m used to carrying it, it’s got important things in it, and I want it when I get to my room – not twenty minutes afterwards when a man in a ridiculous costume turns up expecting money for something I’d prefer to do myself.

Restaurant reservations

I don’t like restaurants where I feel I have to dress a certain way – and I point blank refuse to eat in restaurants where certain items of clothing (such as a jacket) are stipulated. I get frustrated when presented with a dégustation menu – I don’t want nine tiny but supposedly amazing courses – I want two or three courses done well without any of the fannying about. I don’t want a waiter explaining every ingredient of the dish as if talking to a child before he puts it on the table.

Spa treatments: relaxing?

Much the same applies to spas. I’ve tried all manner of spa treatments in the name of work, and have been left non-plussed by them. To me, a massage is relatively pleasant in the same way that Lily Allen song is – relatively pleasant but certainly not worth paying for.

And if the point of a spa is relaxation, then it fails. I can’t relax in a spa – I start thinking about things I need to do, planning things and generally feeling a bit awkward about someone rubbing my back to the sound of birdsong.

Horses for courses

While I’ve stayed in enough five star hotels to be able to distinguish a good one from an overrated one, and I know some are far more relaxed than others. It’s a personality thing, though. Someone like me – who is terrible at relaxing, feels guilty about being pampered and finds expensive flourishes incredibly wasteful – is never going to be suited to the lifestyle of ultra-luxurious travel.

Buying into the dream

So why do I feel bad about this, like I’m missing out on something? Is it because these elements of luxury travel are constantly pushed as something to aspire to? I – and the countless others who undoubtedly feel the same way – should undoubtedly just accept that it’s not my/ our cup of tea. Surely it’s better to embrace personality traits that to force square pegs into round holes? Either way – thumbs up to Karl Radeber for telling it how it is, rather than staying quiet because he hasn’t bought into the dream and is afraid to admit it.

Does anyone else feel the same way when faced with refreshing towels, spa menus and degustation dinners? The support group starts here…

My previous post – Bloggers vs Journalists: Why bloggers are second class citizens – seems to have stirred up quite a debate.

There are a few things that have been brought to my attention since that I thought I should add. First of all (and somewhat going against my argument), it seems as though the budget Dubai article that raised my ire was commissioned. Well, accepted for publication at least.

The article in question has now been taken down by the Amateur Traveler site – possibly because so many people poured scorn on it. As Robert Cole points out – the piece in question can (temporarily) still be seen in the Bing cache.

InterContinental Hotels

Secondly, I said the article was clearly the result of a junket hosted by InterContinental Hotels. A bit of further investigation (and a hat tip goes out to Shaney Hudson here), shows that the only traces of the author’s previously published work are to be found on the InterContinental Hotels Priority Club site. There, the author is described as: “a dedicated Platinum Ambassador member & The Community Ombudsman who travels worldwide & is an IHG brand expert.”

Conflict of interests

I can’t say for sure that she got her hotels for free in Dubai, but there is a clear, undisclosed conflict of interests here. It’s fine to put a little factbox at the bottom of a piece suggesting Hotel X or Hotel Y as a place to stay when you’ve stayed there. It’s another thing entirely to present the hotels of a group you’ve got a clear relationship with as the only budget options within a destination and refer to them continually throughout what is supposed to be a well-researched destination guide.

Poor editing

This was a case of desperately poor writing. But more importantly – and again this goes against my argument somewhat – it was a case of desperately poor editing. Chris Christensen of Amateur Traveler decided to put the article up, probably knowing how bad it was. It’s also difficult to understand why the obvious conflict of interests wasn’t highlighted.

Independent publishing on the web

Now here’s why I think my point is still valid. Chris of Amateur Traveler freely admits that the site is something he does in his spare time. He has set the site up as an independent publisher – but an independent publisher with none of the traditional high ‘old media’ publishing costs. Anyone can set up a site similar to Amateur Traveler.

He doesn’t make enough from the site to quit his full time job, and is clearly reliant on people submitting guest posts for free. Chris hasn’t been selected and paid to run the site because he’s the best qualified person to do so. There was no competition for the role – he has done it himself as a hobby, because he can.

Checks and balances

Again, this comes down to checks and balances. There are more in ‘old media’ journalism, and excreta such as the Budget Dubai post are less likely to slip through the net. Such pieces are less likely to be commissioned in the first place, and they’re more likely to be ‘spiked’ (ie. Not run at all). Chris should have been brave enough to respond to the author and say: “Thanks for your contribution, but I’m not running it – it’s awful.”

Lower standards?

When the writers aren’t paid, the editors aren’t paid and the publishers can set up what they like at minimal cost, running it as a hobby, then the average standard is likely to drop. I repeat what I said in the previous post – there is some brilliant blogging out there, but it is largely drowned out by the tidal wave of detritus. There are too many people shouting, and very few have anything to say.

Rule of thumb for bloggers

So I’d like to propose something to my fellow bloggers (yes, I am one, as uncomfortable as I may be with the title at times). Before you publish something, ask yourself this: “Am I adding anything new or useful here? Or am I merely contributing to the wash of pointless noise?”

A crude analogy

Anyone can whop their genitals out onto the coffin at grandma’s funeral – it doesn’t mean that they should. And doing so doesn’t make them a Chippendale.

I’ve just got back from Tenerife (in summary: amazing volcano, not so lovely coastal overdevelopment), and whilst there I was staying in the five star Hotel La Plantacion Del Sur.

Good, but…

The hotel was, on the whole, very. Great food, wonderful sea views, excellent array of pools. But you don’t care about any of that when you’re about to go to bed… And La Plantacion has one of the worst light switch safaris that I have ever come across.

World’s longest light switch safari?

The light switch safari is a bit of a bugbear of mine. It’s mildly annoying to have to switch off one or two lights before bed – but having to trawl around the room trying to switch off multiple lights is a total nuisance.

Crystal Maze

La Plantacion, incredibly, had 23 separate light switches within the room. Twenty bloody three. Eight of these were by the bed, and the others were spread around indiscriminately to ensure a Crystal Maze-style battle when it comes to turning them off. Getting them all to the off setting without resorting to yanking the keycard out of the box is quite a challenge.

Bad design

I’m sure the hotel sees this as a stylish selling point. It is not: it is an utter pain in the backside. No room needs that many light switches. And if someone has to explain to you how the lights work, then the designer has got things badly wrong.

Hotels – as designed by Baz Luhrmann

La Plantacion’s light switch safari is a classic case of when showing off becomes counter-productive. It’s the equivalent of a Baz Luhrmann film – good plot ruined by inability to rein in self-indulgent artistic flourishes. Sometimes a little practicality goes a long way.

So, to anyone considering running a hotel, ask yourself one question before starting off: In putting in something that looks nice, am I going to irritate my guests?

It’s an innovation that has, largely, slipped under the radar. But it could have a big impact on how the travel industry deals with social media. I’ve a feeling that Amazon may have just changed the game.

Amazon affiliate program

For those who haven’t a clue what I’m talking about, forgive me: you might not have seen it. Only those with websites who are signed up to the Amazon affiliate program are likely to have done so.

New Share on Twitter feature

This website is signed up to Amazon affiliates (quick everyone – look at the box on the right and go and buy lots of things), and in the last couple of weeks, Amazon has launched a new feature. When I’m logged in and on the Amazon.co.uk, there is a little toolbar across the top of the screen. Recently, a new button has been added – ‘Share On Twitter’.

Tracked links

When you click on it, it opens up Twitter with a small blurb about the product and a shortened link. The key thing is that link is tracked and attached to the affiliate account. If anyone buys something as a result of clicking on that link, I get a small commission. These links can be obviously transferred to Facebook etc.

Implications for travel industry

All very nice, but how does it apply to travel? Well, just imagine what could happen if hotel booking engines, air lines, car hire companies and tour companies – all of whom already use conventional affiliate programs – started offering the same thing.

Make money from recommendations

If someone was looking for something cool to do in Cape Town, a cheap flight to Australia over the Christmas period or a romantic hotel in Tuscany, I could suggest something, used the tracked link and potential make money from my recommendation.

Possibilities for travel experts and enthusiasts

Suddenly, everyone becomes a potential travel agent – and a potential travel agent that can make some money. This, I feel, is a game-changer. There are some incredible possibilities for travel companies, journalists, bloggers and everyday travel enthusiasts alike. This could be the way that Twitter finally makes money as well.

Alas, there are even more opportunities for spammers too but, good or bad, Amazon has come up with something very, very interesting here.

When I am asked to write a brief biography of myself for contributors’ pages in magazines, I will often bill myself as an “award-winning” travel journalist”.

And this is true, because way back in 2001, I was named Student Travel Writer of the Year in the Guardian Student Media Awards. Yes, it’s an utter irrelevance, but “award-winning” sounds good, doesn’t it? I’ve not bothered entering for another awards ceremony since, though – partly because I’m lazy and partly because the whole garland-giving thing can be a bit ridiculous.

Travel industry awards with a dubious stench

In truth, many travel industry awards have a really dubious stench about them. In this regard, the Guardian Student Media Awards are relatively squeaky clean, as they’re voted for by detached judges. But a lot of the time, awards are an exercise in intra-industry backslapping.

Who hands out awards?

Any traveller taken in by medals and trinkets a hotel or restaurant has been given should take a long hard look at who gave the award. If somewhere has been named best hotel, then great. But has  it been named Best Hotel by the local hotels association? A local hotels association in which the hotel manager in question takes a particularly active role, perchance?

Advertisers and freebies

Or maybe the award has been given out by a magazine with which the hotel just so happens to be a major advertiser. I may sound cynical, but I do know how it works – I once worked for a publication where the annual ‘best of’ awards was merely an excuse to get free meals and a generous bar tab.

This is particularly true of any award given out by a local radio station. Take them with a pinch of salt and a determination to discover just how many free cocktails were given away.

Kingley Event Management Travel Press Awards

And with this in mind, I come to the Kingley Event Management Travel Press Awards. The shortlist for each category has been announced, and there are some fine candidates in all. Of course, it’d be possible to argue the toss on specific names, but it would be churlish to say that the shortlisted names and publications are not professional and worthy of their place.

Nominees…

Just one thing stands out, however. Amongst the nominees are Simon Calder (Travel Broadcast Journalist of the Year), Frank Barrett and Graham Boynton (both Outstanding Contribution). All three are excellent journalists, and no-one can have any real quibbles about them being there on merit.

… And judging panel

But a quick look at the judging panel makes for an interesting read. Amongst the judges are… Simon Calder, Frank Barrett and Graham Boynton. Hmmmmm…

Disclosure: I have written for two of the candidates in the Kingley Travel Press Awards in the past year (MSN UK and the Telegraph).