Zsuzsa Deli-Gray (ed.)

Cases in Tourism Marketing III


Echoes Beyond the Screen

Zhang Yuan, Gedeon Totth, Zoltán Szabó
 
For Alex, journeys were experiments – ways to test how people connect with the stories hidden inside places. As a postgraduate student from Europe, he came to China (mainland) with one question carved in his notebook: Can technology make heritage more real – or only more visible?
Along the eastern and southern coastlines, ancient cities now shimmered with digital reconstructions, multilingual guides, and immersive domes. Alex decided to follow the shoreline, documenting how these tools changed not only what he saw but how he felt and what he remembered.
 
UNESCO World Heritage Sites carry a dual mandate education and preservation and the growth of VR and AR expands what can be taught without overexposing fragile places (Zhang and Szabó, 2024; Quang et al., 2024). From Alex’s vantage point, the opportunity is clear: virtual tours, interactive reconstructions, and in-situ overlays make complex stories graspable and timely (Bekele and Champion, 2019; Pisoni et al., 2021). As a practical guide for instructors and managers, Table 2 synthesises the key implementation considerations that recur across sites and technologies (Buhalis et al., 2023; Genc and Gulertekin Genc, 2023).
 
Table 1 Benefits vs. Challenges of Digital Engagement at UNESCO World Heritage Sites
Benefits
Challenges
Enhanced visitor interaction through VR/AR tours and exhibits
Risk of compromising historical authenticity
Improved heritage education and interpretation
High cost and technical complexity
Reduced physical damage via virtual site access (e.g. fragile murals)
Unequal resource distribution among sites
Effective visitor flow and site management
Varying digital literacy levels among visitors
Increased accessibility and multilingual support
Potential commercialisation or "Disneyfication"
Appealing to modern tourists’ digital expectations
Difficulties in balancing tech-use and heritage preservation
Source: summarised and created by the authors
 
Along the eastern and southern coastlines, the ancient cities (Figure 1) already gleamed with digital reconstructions, featuring captivating facades and multilingual guides. Alex decided to follow the shoreline and document how these tools transformed not only what he saw, but also what he felt and what he remembered.
 
Figure 1. Distribution map of WHS in eastern and southern coastal areas of China (mainland)
 
The northern wind met him first at a palace city once built for emperors. Before stepping inside, Alex opened a VR preview downloaded from the site’s official app. The simulation guided him through sunlit courtyards and golden halls. He could even “tap” relics to reveal mini-lectures. Yet when he entered the real gate, snow dusted the roof tiles and the courtyard smelled faintly of smoke from a vendor’s brazier. The virtual world had been flawless; the real one trembled and breathed.
Inside, a massive projection dome promised “a journey into imperial ritual.” He joined a small group. Digital drummers thundered; silk robes swayed. Immersion was perfect – until the scene froze, leaving only the quiet of stone. A conservator noticed his hesitation.
“Without this system,” she said softly, “the pigments would disappear.”
He nodded. The brilliance he had admired was also a shield.
Two days later the train carried him to a maritime museum near the Bohai Gulf. Ship masts towered above a glass hall, where visitors wore AR glasses that overlaid historical sea routes across real models. As Alex traced the glowing lines, a child tugged his mother’s sleeve: “Look, it’s moving like a video game!” The mother laughed, repeating the story of Admiral Zheng He. The app turned family time into performance. Yet Alex noticed another corner where fishermen from the coast demonstrated knot-tying – no screens, just gestures. Crowds thinned there. He felt the quiet dignity of analogue memory fading behind digital animation.
Farther south, in a temple facing the Yellow Sea, he encountered a different rhythm. Visitors scanned small plaques that triggered gentle soundscapes: bells, waves, chants mixed with English subtitles of ancient poems. Technology there whispered rather than shouted. He watched an old monk overseeing maintenance of the sensors. “People listen longer now,” the monk said. “Before, they rushed through.” Alex realised that mediation could slow time as well as speed it up.
His next stop was a fortress city once guarding trade routes, perched above the estuary. Here the system combined surveillance and storytelling: facial recognition at the gate managed visitor flow; AR binoculars showed battles long past. As cannon smoke swirled in the overlay, Alex lowered the device. Real gulls wheeled above real ruins. A volunteer guide remarked, “Tourists stay longer because of the show, but they sometimes forget the view is real.” The comment struck him harder than expected.
Each place taught a different lesson. The palace displayed preservation through substitution; the museum celebrated connection through play; the temple balanced silence and sound; the fortress wrestled with spectacle. Beneath their variety, a single tension ran – the thin border between enhancement and replacement.
That night, on a coastal train heading south, Alex stared at the reflection of his screen against the window. In its surface, the sea outside and the glowing interface merged into one image. He typed a note:
Digital vision widens the map, but only presence fills it with meaning.
When dawn broke, the train curved toward a gentler landscape of gardens and canals. He was ready to see if balance could exist between illusion and truth.
The city he entered next was a poem written in bridges and reflections. Here, technology breathed quietly. Slim tablets near each pavilion offered to “see as the poets saw.” When Alex lifted one, brushstrokes of a Ming-era painting faded into the same view before him. The overlay dissolved into water ripples, leaving the present intact. For the first time, the virtual deferred to the visible.
He met a young designer adjusting the AR timing. “We want the device to disappear,” she explained. “If you forget you’re using it, that’s success.” Her words became his compass.
Later he tried a VR simulation of the ancient canal. Inside the headset, he glided through digital mist, hearing boatmen sing. Ten minutes later he removed it, dizzy but moved. An elderly woman nearby watched the same film on a wall screen. “I like this version,” she smiled. “It lets me breathe.”
That evening, over tea with local volunteers, Alex joined a debate about reconstructing a collapsed pagoda. One engineer proposed a full 3-D rebuild; another insisted on leaving the ruins visible. The curator settled the argument: “Show what is known – and show what is gone.” The phrase resonated. Authenticity was not anti-technology; it was honesty, maintained through design.
Walking home through lantern-lit alleys, Alex recognised a hidden order forming in his experience. Every prompt, caption, or reconstruction acted like a stimulus shaping feeling. His excitement or fatigue were responses of the organism inside him. And his final choices – to linger, to return, to recommend – were the behavioural echoes that completed the chain.
By the time he reached the lake’s edge, neon from a nearby street reflected beside moonlight on the water. Two lights, one man-made, one eternal, shared the same surface. The coexistence looked natural. He began to believe harmony was possible when technology served curiosity without swallowing it.
Spring followed him into the mountains of the far south. Tea terraces curved like green lines on parchment; limestone peaks drifted in fog. Here, signals weakened and screens dimmed. A ranger greeted him at the gate.
“The AR guide ends at the bridge,” she warned. “After that, walk with your senses.”
In the first cave, gentle projections mapped geological layers across stone. Then darkness reclaimed the space. Without the lights, he felt the mountain breathing. Water droplets echoed like seconds in a vast clock. He reached out, touched the wall, and sensed the time beyond screens.
That evening, thunder rolled and power failed in his wooden hostel. By candlelight, rangers and engineers gathered around a stove, sharing rice wine. They spoke of building virtual tours during the pandemic – how distant visitors had learned to appreciate the mountain’s fragility.
“The mountain doesn’t need more visitors,” one said. “It needs understanding.”
Their sentence closed the loop of Alex’s journey.
He saw now that every digital element – the headset in the palace, the AR at the temple, the sensors in the cave – had been a stimulus. Each stirred an organism: curiosity, awe, reflection. And each led to a response: his own wish to protect, to share, to tell others. The framework that once existed only in lectures was alive around him.
At sunrise he climbed above the valley. Sensors below measured foot traffic, data streams ensuring balance between access and preservation. Technology and nature worked in quiet partnership. He felt satisfaction not from novelty but from coherence – the system and the story aligned.
A group of schoolchildren passed, chasing a digital butterfly projected ahead of them. Their laughter echoed between cliffs. Alex watched them vanish into mist, thinking how easily wonder could be taught when imagination met respect.
He took one last note before descending:
The journey changes when screens teach us to see, not just to look.
The mountain faded behind him, yet its lesson stayed. Heritage, he realized, was not frozen history. It was a dialogue – between stone and story, device and desire, past and present.
And somewhere along China’s long coastline, between the hum of data and the hush of wind, Alex finally found what he had been seeking: an encounter that felt entirely, unmistakably real.
Leaving the southern mountains, Alex realised his coastal journey had revealed a clear behavioural pattern. Each heritage site, from palace to garden to cave, showed how technology shaped what visitors perceived, felt, and finally did. Digital tools – VR domes, AR overlays, and interactive systems – acted as stimuli that drew attention and structured movement. When these features were intuitive and context-sensitive, engagement rose; when intrusive, interest declined. Thus, the perceived quality of digital features positively influenced visitor engagement.
Engagement alone, however, did not ensure conviction. Visitors also judged how believable and truthful the digital reconstructions appeared. When visual and historical layers aligned with the real environment, trust grew. Hence, perceptions of digital features enhanced perceived authenticity.
Deeper participation consistently increased enjoyment and learning. Visitors who interacted actively reported stronger satisfaction, confirming that digital engagement and interactivity improved overall satisfaction. Authenticity further reinforced this effect: credible, evidence-based design made experiences emotionally persuasive. Therefore, a higher sense of perceived authenticity increased satisfaction.
The final link completed the sequence. Satisfied visitors shared stories, posted images, and encouraged others to visit, showing that greater satisfaction strengthened recommendation intentions.
 
Figure 2. SOR-Based Digital Engagement Framework
Source: summarised and created by the authors
 
Summarizing these insights, Alex described a simple chain: perception of digital quality drives engagement; engagement and authenticity shape satisfaction; satisfaction transforms into advocacy. His journey had moved from technology to emotion, from emotion to behaviour – a lived demonstration that in digital heritage, meaningful design turns observation into commitment.
 

Cases in Tourism Marketing III

Tartalomjegyzék


Kiadó: Akadémiai Kiadó

Online megjelenés éve: 2026

ISBN: 978 963 664 217 4

The publication of the third volume of Cases in Tourism Marketing is truly welcome news from both an educational and a professional perspective. Through real-world, timely, and thought-provoking cases, this collection helps readers – students and practitioners alike – gain a deeper understanding of the complex world of decision-making in tourism marketing. The case studies not only convey professional knowledge but also develop analytical skills, problem-solving abilities, and critical thinking. One of the volume’s key strengths is its focus on issues that define contemporary tourism, including the role of digitalization, artificial intelligence, destination branding, and stakeholder collaboration in tourism marketing. Long-awaited and highly relevant, this third volume is a worthy continuation of the previous collections and will undoubtedly serve as a valuable resource in higher education in tourism, while also being highly recommended to professionals who enjoy reflecting on challenges and opportunities beyond their own immediate field of expertise.

Tamara Ratz PhD

Director, Centre for International Relations, Kodolányi János University

Head of Tourism Department, Professor of Tourism

It is an honor for me to recommend this volume to everyone who wishes to understand tourism marketing not only in theory, but also through its real business and human dimensions. The worlds of tourism and hospitality have undergone fundamental changes in recent years, which makes case studies based on real market situations, decision-making dilemmas and current challenges especially valuable in supporting both learning and critical thinking. This book provides not only professional knowledge, but also encourages a complex mindset, creative problem-solving and the ability to think in connections — exactly the skills today’s tourism professionals need most. I wholeheartedly recommend this volume to students, educators and tourism professionals alike.

Judit Fodor (Liptai)

Group Director of Sales and Marketing, Danubius Hotels

Hivatkozás: https://mersz.hu/deli-gray-cases-in-toursim-marketing-iii//

BibTeXEndNoteMendeleyZotero

Kivonat
fullscreenclose
printsave