In her introduction to Globalgothic, Glennis Byron observes that ‘the late twentieth century saw a growing number of articles and books appearing on new national and regional gothics, from Kiwi gothic to Florida gothic, Barcelona gothic to Japanese gothic’ and continues by identifying ‘increasing evidence of the emergence of crosscultural and transnational gothics’ that ‘were intrinsically connected to … the development of an increasingly global economy’ (Byron 2013, 1). The geographical regions identified here are also popular (if in some cases pricey) tourist destinations. As is well known, this ‘global economy’ is, in actuality, an economy dominated by a comparatively small number of nation states, which have acquired the sometimes geographically inaccurate label ‘Global North’. Tourism is in effect, then, worldwide travel originating predominantly from the Global North, even when its point of departure is located in well-developed economies located in the world's southern hemisphere, such as South Africa, Australia or New Zealand, among others. This chapter considers the gothic's preoccupation with travel, examining how that travel becomes intertwined with global tourism. As the narratives under discussion make clear, that tourism often shadows the routes of historic colonialism and, at times, even risks the perpetuation of a perceived cultural inequality as its by-product.

Like tourism, gothic narratives offer a safely packaged exploration of the relationship between humanity, the home (heim), the unhomely/uncanny (unheimlich) and space: architectural and natural, claustrophobic and agoraphobic. A former PhD student of mine undertook, as part of her methodology, a ghost tour of the City of Caves site in Nottingham, a popular tourist attraction usually offering history-based tours. This specialist tour was, reputedly, led by a spirit medium. On entering the caves, the guide assured the visitors not to worry if they encountered a ghost, for that ghost would not follow them home (Bevan 2018). Such ‘reassurance’ surely provokes anxiety: the promise of a ghost not following you home places in one's mind the previously unconsidered possibility that it might do exactly that. Indeed, there is a political precedent for this idea. The concept of coming home, but bringing the ghost with you, is a metaphor for the end of the colonial period.