The Mirage of Exoticism & The Curse of the Almighty Dollar

I was drafting an email to the author of a fascinating piece on Terra Nullius, “Lost in Google Translation,” but as I fleshed out my thoughts, I realized I had more to say—so here we are.

There’s something fascinating about how Japan represents the pinnacle of exoticism for many Westerners. A country deeply integrated into the global system, yet still cloaked in an aura of mystery and cultural otherness. But when I think of places that feel genuinely distinct, my mind doesn’t go to Japan—it goes to the Persianate world.

Iran, Afghanistan, and Pakistan share a cultural continuum that, despite centuries of globalization, still retains an unmistakable distinctiveness. In many ways, these places remind me of Cuba, Venezuela, and North Korea—not in their governance, but in how they have remained insulated from Western homogenization.

Commodification vs. Authenticity

One of the great paradoxes of our time is that the more a country becomes easily accessible to Westerners, the faster it transforms and buckles under the pressure. When a place is easily digestible, when it is packaged and made frictionless, it rapidly loses its organic cultural complexity.

Take Turkey vs. Iran as a case study.

Turkey, for all its rich history and grandeur, felt like a tourist trap—a place where authenticity had been carefully curated for mass consumption. The bazaar experience felt more like a performance for tourists than a natural cultural exchange. Iran, on the other hand, was an entirely different world—one where hospitality was genuine, remnants of the Pahlavi era still lingered in surprising ways, and the experience was raw and unfiltered.

I say this as someone half-Persian, who had never truly been to Iran until 2016. When a friend ditched me at the last minute, I landed in Tehran with my heart thumping—as a Bahá’í, I wondered if I’d be hauled into prison. Instead, I found an astonishingly warm and layered country, untouched by the hyper-commercialized veneer that dulls so many other places.

The Chaos that Shields India from the West

A friend once told me that Cuba operates a double currency system, where foreigners pay 10 times the local rate—effectively creating a two-tiered economy that insulates domestic life from external distortion. India, in some ways, operates on a similar principle, though in a far less structured manner.

Despite being a wildly popular tourist destination, India is one of the few countries where Western tourists have never been able to fully penetrate or reshape the cultural fabric. Why? Chaos.

India is not an easy country to navigate—there’s too much friction. The bureaucracy, the traffic, the density, the sheer unpredictability of it all creates an environment where Western influence never fully takes hold. In contrast, places that rapidly reform to cater to tourists—where transport is easy, the streets are pristine, and “experiences” are packaged neatly—are the ones that lose their distinctiveness the fastest.

In a strange way, India’s disorder is its greatest shield—keeping the global monoculture at bay.

The Bhutan Model: Deliberate Cultural Insulation

If chaos shields India from Western penetration, Bhutan has taken the opposite approach—bureaucratic friction as a protective shield. Bhutan has one of the most deliberate and structured cultural insulation models in the world:

• Foreigners (except Indians, Bangladeshis, and Burmese) must pay a daily tourism tax of USD 150, which limits mass tourism and ensures that only a select number of visitors enter.

• Guides are mandatory for all foreign tourists, effectively controlling and filtering their experience, keeping them at arm’s length from local life.

• Bhutan’s beloved king has reinforced this by mandating national dress in government offices, requiring 60% of land to remain forested, and instituting policies that maintain cultural integrity.

A friend who traveled to Bhutan told me that having the right passport made all the difference. As an Indian, she was able to bypass the tourism tax, take local buses, stay with ordinary Bhutanese families, and experience the country in a way that Western tourists simply never could.

This model has worked astonishingly well—Bhutan remains one of the few places that hasn’t been overrun by the global hegemon.

Bollywood, Slow Growth, and Cultural Insulation

India’s post-independence economic stagnation is probably what saved Bollywood from being devoured by Western entertainment. Had India become rapidly prosperous, its film industry might have suffered the same fate as local cinemas across much of the developing world—flattened by Hollywood hegemony.

Take South Korea—its local entertainment industry is thriving now, but only after decades of government intervention and cultural protectionism. Many other nations, however, weren’t so lucky. Their domestic cinema was swiftly overrun, and local creative industries were stunted before they had the chance to fully mature.

India’s slow burn of economic growth created cultural insulation, allowing industries like Bollywood to evolve on their own terms rather than being consumed. That insulation is disappearing now—but it bought the country decades of distinct cultural development.

Why I Have No Desire to Visit Japan

It’s for this reason that I feel curiously disinterested in visiting Japan. While I’m sure it has incredible things to offer, I find myself drawn to places where the Almighty Dollar hasn’t warped the experience.

The presence of Western tourists often changes a place not just superficially, but structurally—local economies reorganize around catering to outsiders, and what was once authentic becomes performance. That’s why I seek out places where there are as few Westerners as possible.

This is why I love Chennai, India—though my in-laws are there, so I have an added reason to visit. Colombo, Sri Lanka was simply fantastic for the same reason—it felt untouched by the kind of cultural flattening that so often follows mass tourism.

There’s something profound about being in a place that exists on its own terms, not as a spectacle for foreign consumption.

Discussion: The Future of Cultural Insulation

The world is shrinking—rapidly. Few places remain outside the gravitational pull of the global monoculture, and even those that do might not hold out forever. The internet, mass media, and economic forces are constantly reshaping cultures in ways we’re only beginning to understand.

So, I wonder:

•Which places today still retain their deep cultural distinctiveness?

•Is it inevitable that all cultures will eventually be commodified for mass consumption?

•Are there still pockets of the world that resist globalization, or is this a losing battle?

Would love to hear thoughts from others who have traveled widely and have had similar (or different) experiences.