I can understand it. I was a tour guide on coach excursions when a forest fire had ripped through a big stretch of what was meant to be the, "Beautiful Hilltop Villages" tour. I thought all trips would be cancelled for months but my boss decided that the fire brigade had given the all clear and the show must go on.
That was my first shock but then the second was that not only did absolutely nobody cancel out of either respect for the people who had lost their homes or simply because there was nothing to see. The beautiful countryside had all gone up in smoke.
The worst was yet to come. The number of guests who piled on the bus with great enthusiasm, cameras at the ready, was quite something else.
I had a really bad feeling about how the day would go and I was proven right. I wanted to say that they couldn't take photos but I couldn't really. This was before Social Media had taken off in a big way but even for personal viewing, I wondered why on earth they wanted to take pictures of some of the things they did.
OK. Maybe some shots of the general landscape. Interesting, I suppose, but surely happy snaps of an elderly man sitting on a kitchen chair in a field, crying and holding his cat whilst being comforted by the firefughters was pure voyeurism. A young woman trying to load two terrified donkeys into a pony trailer to take them to a safer place likewise.
And yes, unfortunately, most of these grief tourists were British. I was ashamed. The theatrics were quite horrible. One sniff of second hand tragedy and Derek Smithers of 17 Acacia Avenue suddenly thought he was Steve McCurry working for National Geographic.
It's the tone of these people. If your friends had said, "We decided to see the personal effects part of the museum because you should confront these things. It was pretty awful but I'm glad I made myself face it. Didn't seem right to chicken out of the worst part."