Hallstatt: give me Vienna Hauptbahnhof anyday
Ah Hallstatt, what a place! A beautiful Austrian town nestled in the centre of the country, sitting besides a pretty lake, and surrounded by a truly stunning alpine backdrop. At first glance, and through the tourist’s eye or camera lens, this place is pretty much paradise. It really is. Like something from a Disney film (the good, older ones that is), it has the feeling of the unreal, but one that you can walk right in to. As you approach the town from Lake Hallstatt, hence at a distance, it is difficult to take in such a stunning scene and example of Germanic alpine bliss. Where else would I rather be?
As it turns out, pretty much anywhere. Seriously, I’m not joking. I’ve been in more relaxing traffic jams on the M25 motorway of southern England, and found greater peace falling into an icy crevasse on a major Austrian glacier whilst stabbing myself in the leg with some overly aggressive crampons. After leaving Hallstatt and heading back to the Austrian capital I found Vienna Hauptbahnhof (the central train station there) to be a far more relaxing place, even with the endless passengers milling around the various shops and cafés on a hot August afternoon. To be fair, although rather busy, it is a pretty fancy station, with all the finer elements of modern railroad-based architecture. Still, things shouldn’t be this way.
Sitting with a snack from my favourite fast-food chain in Vienna, Nordsee (think of a Greggs or McDonalds that specialises in fish. I know, I’m a classy fellow) and trying to collect my thoughts on my three days in Hallstatt it was pretty puzzling to work out why the place was such a difficult experience and why it simply didn’t work for me. Or anyone else it seemed. Smiles and laughter were in short supply there. Not quite the case when it came to queues, garnished with a bit of frustration and anger. As it happens, we were meant to be there for five days, but we just needed to leave this place. So we did. Even if it meant losing the money we’d used for hotel bookings.
Now I would like to think that it was maybe due to the fact that, at the time, I was still suffering with Covid-related problems whilst out there: breathing issues, tiredness, dizzy spells (that kind of cool stuff). But I don’t think it was anything Covid-related given that I found a major capital city to be a much more relaxing place while still experiencing these joys of long-Covid.
The pretty main square of Hallstatt very early in the day, hence the lack of people (Fujifilm XF10).
Hellish, I think: Cognitive Dissonance in Hallstatt
I suppose, then, the question I struggled with was really one of cognitive dissonance. At base cognitive dissonance, a theory of psychology popularised by the wonderfully cool American social psychologist Leon Festinger back in the 1950s, describes the human propensity to hold two pieces of contradictory information in our heads, at the same time. In other words, rather than having internal mental consistency we often walk around with views that conflict with one another. We’re odd. One silly example: I don’t believe in ghosts and am certain that they don’t exist, but if I’m in an old building at night I do spend some time thinking, ‘man, I sure hope there’s no ghosts around here’. Of course, this makes little sense, but we are often stuck in two minds, at the same time. Probably with a daft look on our faces.
So it was with Hallstatt. I’m a keen photographer; keen enough to set up a website to inflict these on the world (apologies for this). Hallstatt was such a wonderfully pretty place, one that throws up so many great photographic opportunities, and I could look at the lake and mountains forever-and-a-day. Yet I took very few shots, found no real joy there, and couldn’t wait to leave this alpine photographic hellish-paradise. As you can see from the images here, the place is just stunning (even if I wasn’t taking that much time over each shot). Oh and for the people that care (all two of you I should imagine), all my images here were shot with my unreasonably small Fujifilm XF10. So what was going on and why wouldn’t I recommend Hallstatt to the photographer looking to shoot in a wonderfully idyllic, apline location, despite the place being precisely that?
Hazy light over the smaller peaks of the European Alps to the east of Hallstatt (Fujifilm XF10).
Hyper Tourism: Frozen and the Most ‘Instagramable’ Town on the Planet
Nayeli, my vastly better half had visited Hallstatt twenty years earlier (she’s half-Austrian), in the winter, with plentiful snow, and few people about. She spoke so highly of the town that it made sense to head back and share this place with me. No bad idea I thought. We intended to head up into the mountains above the town, but covid kicked that idea into touch. Yet during that twenty year period something profound had happened to Hallstatt that really took us aback: hyper-tourism.
Right away, let me be clear, we were tourists too; we knew this (albeit afterwards). We were part of the ‘problem’, and we were a small part of the hordes flocking to the town each day. After a little time, I read up on this aspect of Hallstatt and was a little shocked to learn just how problematic tourism to the town had become. A town of less than 800 residents attracts up to 10,000 visitors each day. For every resident of Hallstatt, that is, 12.5 people visit every day. And it doesn’t stop. Residents are largely displeased.
Right away the term that kept coming up was ‘Instagramable’ (if that is actually a word). Hallstatt is often ranked in the most photogenic places to head to. So pretty is the town that endless tourists flock in each day, mostly by coach, to take photos (usually selfies) and then leave again. The same day. Hallstatt is about a mile and a half long, but at almost every step you are left dodging people taking images of themselves, or apologising for getting in their shots.
A rare quiet moment on the streets of Hallstatt late in the evening (Fujifilm XF10).
This might sound like an exaggeration but it really isn’t. I’ve never witnessed anything quite like it. Not in Rome, not in Paris, not in the Alps, not in Vienna, not in Mexico. Nowhere. There ware few places to really escape to, other than a coffee shop, but these were always full. There were a handful of signs too asking visitors not to wander into their gardens and houses, and telling us tourists that the village ‘isn’t a playground or museum.’ Drones have also been banned in the town. These signs were all in English and Mandarin, not German, which was pretty telling.
Frozen is partly to blame, apparently. The Disney film that is. I never saw it. Not that I’m above it as I’ve enjoyed kids films most of my life - Minions really crack me up and I enjoyed Up far more than I should have. But many seem to believe that Hallstatt is the model or inspiration for the kingdom in Frozen, and this really brings in the European and Asian tourists. You can kind of see why, even if there isn’t much in this claim that stands up. South Korea also filmed a TV series here which boosted its popularity across Asia. China even has a replica of the town built in the southern province of Guangdong. That’s pretty high praise but also a little out there.
Toy figures from the Disney film Frozen (2013), the movie has arguably contributed to the mass influx of tourists over the past decade (Stock Image).
Leave vs. Remain: the wrong kind of tourism
Digging a little deeper, the picture seemed to be a little more nuanced though. Indeed, the criticism of those who live and work in the town (those who I spoke with at least) kept coming back to the question of the type of tourism to Hallstatt as much as the volume. The sort of tourism that’s desirable are the ‘remainers’ - as it is sometimes termed (but not those ‘remainers’). In other words those that come for a few nights or a week, who stay in the hotels, eat in the local restaurants, enjoy a verlängerter (a sort of ‘long espresso’), and then have a glass of Stiegl (beer) in the evening as the sunsets on the lake.
This contributes to the local economy in highly positive ways. Crucially, arriving by train and then ferry is also desirable for the locals here. It doesn’t clog-up the fragile alpine road network. And it’s super easy, and a fair price. The train from Vienna to Hallstatt was about three hours, it was cleaner than my local dentist, and everything ran on time. The train drops you off at the ferry terminal, and ten minutes later you’re in Hallstatt. Nice!
Away from the lake there are quieter parts of the town which given a brief respite from the crowds (Fujifilm XF10)
What the locals don’t like so much are the ‘leavers.’ No, not those ‘leavers’ (of the British EU referendum), the other kind. The ‘leavers’ who come in by car and bus each morning, run around manically taking photos for six hours, then head out of town in the late afternoon. Their next 597 social media posts ready to go. With up to 10,000 people coming in and out each day the roads are grid-locked, the tunnels that go through the mountains struggle, and locals simply can’t get around. Emergency services also struggle. So bad is the problem that in 2020 the mayor of Hallstatt, Alexander Scheutz, took the decision to limit the number of buses arriving each day to 54. It seems to have helped a little but the cars keep on coming. In a short message to future visitors, Scheutz stressed, ‘we are happy that you came to Hallstatt and we ask you to take enough time to see the place and its sights…Hallstatt is too attractive to just walk quickly and drive away quickly to the next photo hotspot. For Hallstatt, you should take your time and bring your appreciation towards the population’.
Overlooking the old church and Lake from the small streets above the town (Fujifilm XF10).
A Crisis of Modernity: high on alpine air
For someone who lives on the edge of the Lake District for much of the year I saw obvious parallels with life here as Windermere, Keswick, Ambleside, and Glenridding feel a little like Hallstatt at times. But nowhere near as frantically busy. Still, to me, and with my tourist/photographer’s hat on I was struck by the endless selfies being taken. It was rare to see people simply relaxing, looking out to the lake, and enjoying the views. Looking at a screen with their back to the mountains and lake was the norm. Endlessly the norn. Maybe I don’t get the Insta-Influencer thing, I’m 40 now after all (God knows how that happened), but it struck me as such a reflection of modernity that it felt like some sort of crisis, that I don’t have a name for. Do let me know if there is one please!
Travelling to such a wonderful location, but experiencing it primarily through a phone felt odd, erriee, and unnerving. As a photographer I understand the desire to get that shot, but taking shot, after shot, after shot, after shot felt a little odd. It wasn’t just that people were shooting, but also palpable panic that seemed to keep them shooting on, and on, and on. It felt like if they didn’t get the most wonderfully perfect shot, the whole trip was a waste of time.
The cherry on the cake, however, came when I was sat enjoying the view on a jetty with my camera firmly away in my backpack - the light was so harsh that there wasn’t much of an image to be had, and I was enjoying a coffee and the morning air. But that peace wasn’t to last more than a couple of minutes. In German, a lady approached me, and pretty much said, ‘ah you are not taking photos right now so can you take some of me please?’
I took a few, then she asked that we move to a different section of the jetty so we could take a few more. She then wandered off, without so much as a dánke, thank you, or gracias, muttering about the shots and then started snapping away again. Selfies of course. This sort of thing happened a few times. If you weren’t taking images pretty much all the time then you were being ask to take images of other tourists. After a while, it felt like an alpine bowl of Insta-narcism cats, rather than a tranquil mountainous village. Escape is all I could think of, dreaming of the return to Vienna - the first time I’ve ever wanted the urban over the rural.
Looking towards Obertraun to the northern shore of Lake Hallstatt (Fujifilm XF10).
Concluding Thought: a town not a peace with itself
Still, each to their own right? If this is how the tourists to Hallstatt wish to spend their time then all power to them. The experiencing of the world is always subjective and none of us have the right to say what is the right or wrong way to enjoy a place like Hallstatt, when we aren’t a resident of the town at least. But for me, at least, it felt like the ‘Instafication’ of Hallstatt has ruined the experience of the town in a way that I simply hadn’t expected or experienced before.
I knew there would be elements of this going on, but just not at (almost) every step. I wish I was exaggerating, I’m not. I wish I had felt compelled to shoot a little more, but the town zapped my photographic will power. As I said at the outset, Vienna felt much more relaxing, quiet, and calming. And just more ‘real’. I suppose, at base, Hallstatt feel like an environment that was not at peace with itself, which ultimately made me put the camera away (save for the few shot used here). I also felt for the locals in the same way I feel for those who have their farm and field access prevented by tourists in the Lakes. Maybe go and see for yourself, but if you are planning to go to the picture-perfect town just know that you’re in for an experience you might not be expecting.
Either way, regular visitors to my website (all four of you) will know that I’m no professional travel writer or travel photographer. I primarily shoot in the fells of the Lake District with a full-frame camera, or when scrambling, hiking, fell running, or rock climbing I opt for a much smaller crop-frame set-up. I read a lot about Hallstatt after I left/escaped, and you can find dozens of articles online that explore the problems that beset Hallstatt and the love-hate relationship it has with tourism.
I found Rachel Hosie’s article on this tally’s with my own experiences - a nicely written piece that uses lots of images with insightful aphorisms. Rachel is a Senior Health Reporter based in London, her article with Insider Magazine can be found here. It carries the a title that is pretty telling: ‘I visited Hallstatt, the picture-perfect Austrian village that gets a million visitors a year, and it's been completely ruined by selfie-taking tourists’. Maybe take a look at this article too, and then head out to a village close to Hallstatt instead.
Grey O’Dwyer
September 30, 2024
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Monochrome image over the pretty roofs of Hallstatt, hiding away from the crowds high above the town (Fujifilm XF10).
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