So, a couple of weeks ago I wrote about how the prospect of the country trying to surpass the two million tourist mark filled me with dread as I envisaged a squashed-sardine-like future. I was swamped by e-mails from readers who had visited overcrowded tourist hotspots and who were still traumatised by the experience.

There was the reader who had experienced the sweltering Capri Crush and who vowed never to return. A friend struggled through the streets of Siena, bumping through torrents of tourists with eyes firmly glued on their mobile phones making sure that they had visited the highest-rated attractions on Trip Advisor. Another reader told me about heavy tourist traffic damaging the Great Wall of China.

All agreed that it had been a depressing experience and that they would not return.

Of course tourists have that option – of ticking a place off their wish list, maybe uploading a critical review online and hurrying back to somewhere less claustrophobic. But what do the residents of these tourist-saturated cities, do? They can’t just up sticks to escape the madding crowds, the clogged-up roads and the creaking infrastructure.

Actually, some do. Take Venice as a prime example. At the last count permanent residents had dwindled to a mere 58,000. There are hardly any shops which cater for residents’ everyday needs. They have all been replaced by shops selling kitsch souvenirs – plastic gondolas, the ubiquitous Venetian masks and ever so many glass beads. Property prices have gone through the roof and residents simply leave the city, which has been taken over by strangers.

Property prices have gone through the roof and residents simply leave the city which has been taken over by strangers

Donna Leon – the creator of the Commissario Brunetti novels and a long-time resident of Venice – has started to stay away from the city about which she writes so evocatively. She describes a typical incident:

“Just last week,” she writes, “a friend of mine, a man of infinite calm and charity, said that he grows almost violent when he goes walking on the streets. If he sees a couple walking towards him, hand in hand, he insists on walking through them if the street is narrow. I think we are all corrupted in our characters or behaviours, like rats when there are too many of them in the cage.”

It’s not a pleasing prospect that we’re trying to emulate.

■ The outcome of the referendum on constitutional reforms in Italy turned out to be pretty much as expected – a massive two-fingered salute to the government by a frustrated electorate.

Political commentators have been trying to see if there are any parallels between the Italian vote, Donald Trump’s election and Brexit. I would say that the only common factor between them all is that a large part of the electorate feels that it is powerless to influence politics or decisions at a national level. The five-yearly outing to the polling booth to elect parliamentary representatives isn’t enough as elected politicians are free to do pretty much what they want in the inter-electoral period. Any opportunity to raise a fist at the ruling class is deemed to be valid, even a referendum about constitutional reform.

That apart, there are some aspects of Matteo Renzi’s rapid rise to power and equally rapid fall from grace, which all politicians do well to note. First, getting into power is much easier than maintaining it. Campaigning is a doddle when compared to governing.

Three years ago, Renzi was seen as the fresh-faced, cheeky outsider in rolled-up shirt sleeves, who was ready to get things going. Basking in the nickname Il Rottomatore or Demolition Man, he went out of his way to portray himself as the man who could bring about change.

Renzi ousted his predecessor – the dignified, mild-mannered Enrico Letta – on the grounds that Letta was not bringing about change at a suitably fast pace. Demolition Man Renzi conveniently ignored the fact that far-reaching change is not brought about with cheeky tweets and Instagram moments. He reassured Letta that he had no plans to take his place with the infamous “Enrico stai sereno” (Enrico keep calm) hashtag, then went ahead and did precisely that.

Three years down the line, the outgoing Italian Prime Minister has found out that he has been found wanting and of nothing achieving the promised results. Ironically, this is precisely what he said his predecessor had not done.

There’s a lesson in there somewhere.

drcbonello@gmail.com