Tourism

Travelers in 2026 are chasing authenticity more than ostentation, a shift reflected in a new list of top destinations curated by luxury travel advisers. It’s not about showing off luxury as much as finding meaningful, deeply human experiences that connect travelers to place, people, and purpose. For Thai readers, this trend resonates with a long-standing cultural emphasis on family, mindfulness, and respectful curiosity about other cultures. The list that has caught attention this week includes Nikko in Japan, Kona in Hawaii, Versailles near Paris, Guanacaste in Costa Rica, Antarctica, and Marrakech in Morocco. The overarching message from industry insiders is clear: the best journeys next year will be the ones that help travelers feel grounded in a fast-moving world.

A new 2025 travel-cost survey has turned the usual vacation expectations on their head. Aspen, Colorado, rises to No. 1 as the most expensive U.S. vacation destination for a three-night getaway, beating famously pricey coastal towns and even Hawaii. The ranking lists Aspen, Santa Barbara, Anchorage, Bar Harbor, and Fairbanks as the top five, with Hawaii sitting well down at No. 20. The study drew from multiple travel and cost-of-living sources and simulated a three-night itinerary for two adults, including meals, modest lodging, and average airfare to the nearest gateway. The result is a telling snapshot of how expensive certain American getaways have become, driven by demand, seasonal pricing, and the unique mix of lodging, dining, and activities in each locale.

Macau, long celebrated as the world’s gambling capital, is pivoting toward a new kind of attraction: healthcare. In a bold move that blends high-end hospitality with medical services, the city has opened what is being described as a resort hospital inside the Studio City integrated resort. The facility, branded as a luxury medical destination, offers premium diagnostic tests, elective procedures, wellness programs, and a privacy-conscious experience aimed at affluent travelers from across the region. The opening signals more than a novelty; it points to a growing trend in Asia where tourism destinations seek to diversify revenue by pairing leisure with health services.

In 2024 the international medical tourism market was valued at roughly $31 billion, with researchers projecting a dramatic rise toward nearly $87 billion by 2030. The lure is clear: high-quality care at lower costs, shorter wait times, and access to advanced procedures that may not be readily available at home. Yet a growing body of research and interviews with hospital leaders in Brazil and India suggests that the decision to seek care abroad is not simply about price. It is about a complex mix of clinical outcomes, post-treatment follow-up, continuity of care, and the realities of traveling for health in a world where borders no longer confine expertise. For Thai readers, these findings land in a country that already blends top-tier private hospitals with strong family and cultural expectations about health, aging, and respect for trusted physicians.

A recent industry survey reveals that eight in every hundred holidaymakers are turning to artificial intelligence to plan their trips, up from four percent just a year ago. The finding underscores a rapid shift in how people discover destinations, compare options, and assemble itineraries. The trend is strongest among younger travellers, with Gen Z and younger Millennials more likely to rely on AI-powered ideas, itinerary optimizers, and personalized suggestions when mapping out a break from work or studies. For Thai readers, the news signals a potential acceleration in both outbound travel planning and the broader digital-ization of the tourism sector here at home.

Bali, long celebrated as a veritable playground for Instagram and influencer culture, is now being studied as a case where digital glamour and physical footfall collide with the island’s most pressing ecological and social limits. The latest research sketches a troubling picture: when a destination becomes a photo op, its natural resources, local communities, and daily life bear the brunt. In Bali’s case, that means traffic snarls, scarce water for residents, rising waste, and a sense among locals that the paradise that once welcomed the world is changing faster than its infrastructure can adapt. The findings echo a global concern about overtourism, yet they land with particular force in Bali, where tourism is not just an industry but a social contract between visitors and the Balinese way of life.

Cuba’s tourism minister has declared the sector “alive and kicking” even as the island grapples with its deepest economic crisis since the Cold War, a collapse the government insists is being halted with signs of recovery on the horizon. The backdrop is stark: a pandemic that shuttered borders, the continuing impact of harsh U.S. travel policies, and a broader struggle to unlock foreign currency needed to fix aging infrastructure, energy blackouts, and vital public services. The minister, Juan Carlos García Granda, frames tourism as Cuba’s economic locomotive—an assertion he argues remains valid despite daunting headwinds. He points to the second quarter of the current year as a potential inflection point, where he says positive trends should materialize after a brutal 2024.

In a bold, tongue-in-cheek twist on how we think about health and travel, Sweden’s tourist board has launched a campaign that markets the country as a “prescription” for wellness. The Swedish Prescription campaign invites doctors to sign off on trips to Sweden as part of a broader effort to address mental and physical well-being by pairing medical language with immersive experiences in nature, culture, and slow living. It’s being touted as a world-first concept in health tourism, merging public health messaging with a tourism push, and it has quickly captured international attention, including in European media and business circles.

On Nueva Tabarca, Spain’s smallest permanently inhabited island, a curious statistic has become part of the island’s daily reality: in 2023, a survey counted roughly twice as many cats as residents. With about 50 people living on the island year-round, Tabarca’s micro-society is kept in a delicate balance by a centuries-old fortress, a modern ferry timetable, and a growing wave of day-trippers who descend on the flat, sun-burnished rock for a taste of Mediterranean life without the crowds of larger resorts. The latest research and local observations point to a broader lesson for island communities and policymakers everywhere: small places, big questions about sustainability, wildlife, and quality of life.

As Japan welcomes a record wave of foreign visitors, the country’s tipping taboo remains stubbornly intact. A sharp rise in international travelers has unfolded alongside a broader trend toward “omotenashi” — the deeply ingrained Japanese hospitality ethos that treats excellent service as the norm rather than a price to be rewarded with cash. In practice, that means most service workers in Japan do not expect tips, and many locals prefer that guests refrain from tipping altogether. Yet the ongoing flood of visitors has also nudged a small, cautious experiment into public view: a few bars and restaurants are placing tip jars beside registers, a gesture that has sparked debate among locals and visitors about what constitutes proper gratitude for good service.

Las Vegas is famous for glittering lights, world-class shows, and a relentlessly optimistic motto: what happens here, stays here. Yet a wave of recent research is turning that narrative on its head, warning that the city’s tourism-fueled economy sits on a fragile balance in a desert ecosystem already stretched by drought, heat, and growing demand. The latest findings portray a city reinventing itself as a test case for sustainable desert living—if it can translate ambition into action before the environment, workers, and water supply push back.

In Japan’s historic towns and modern metropolises alike, record numbers of visitors have brought a wave of economic energy that many regions once dreamed of. Yet behind the gleaming hotels and souvenir shops, a growing chorus of residents says the surge is eroding daily life, driving up rents, straining public services, and diluting what makes certain places unique. The latest research and frontline reporting suggest that Japan’s tourism boom is a double-edged sword: a boon for growth and employment on one side, and a source of disappointment and frustration for locals on the other. For Thai readers, who routinely weigh travel incentives against cultural and social costs, the Japanese experience offers a clear lesson in balancing welcome with livability.

Bali’s image as a postcard-perfect escape built on sun-kissed beaches, rice terraces and yoga-abroad serenity is colliding with a harsher, data-driven reality. The island’s post-pandemic tourism surge—fueled in large part by social media and influencer culture—has brought economic windfalls to some communities while also piling pressure on infrastructure, waste management, traffic and fragile ecosystems. As crowds swell toward record highs, residents and visitors alike are confronting a paradox: the more Bali is shared online as a dream destination, the more difficult it becomes to preserve the very qualities that drew people there in the first place.

Helsinki has retained its position at the very top of the Global Destination Sustainability Index (GDS Index) for 2025, confirming a European city’s sustained leadership in regenerative tourism. The index, which assesses more than a hundred destinations across roughly 70 indicators, ranks cities by four pillars: destination management, supply chains, social sustainability, and environmental performance. In Helsinki’s case, the proof of depth lies in concrete actions: a transparent climate roadmap for tourism, a comprehensive plan to measure tourism’s carbon footprint, and a robust network of environmentally certified hotels and tourism operators. The city’s approach is praised not only for reducing negative impacts but for actively increasing positive ones, leaving visitors and residents better off when a trip ends.

Visit Rwanda, the tourism arm of the Rwanda Development Board, announced a landmark move on a sunny September day in Los Angeles: long-term partnerships with two of America’s most-watched football and basketball teams, the Los Angeles Rams and the Clippers. This marks the first time an African tourism brand has secured multi-year sponsorship across both the NBA and the NFL, signaling a bold new chapter in Rwanda’s global marketing push and a broader push by African destinations to ride the worldwide wave of American sports fandom.

Dubrovnik has kicked off a bold experiment to reclaim life inside its ancient walls. The city that long drew millions of visitors—cruise passengers piling off ships in droves, crowds clogging the stone lanes, and a skyline crowded with souvenir stalls—has begun capping numbers, curbing cruise traffic, and even outlawing wheeled suitcases on its cobblestones as it pivots toward a new, more sustainable equilibrium. The changes are sweeping, data-driven, and deeply pragmatic: a hard cap on the number of people inside the walls at 11,200, a dramatic reduction from peak days when tens of thousands could be counted within the medieval precincts. Cruise ships are now limited to two per day, down from a flourishing schedule that once reached about eight per day, and docking windows have been extended so visitors can explore at a more relaxed pace and spend money in local venues rather than sprint through landmarks.

A CNBC profile of a woman who traveled alone through Bali, India, and the United States has intensified discussions about what truly keeps solo female travelers safe and empowered. While her tips are practical and grounded in real-world experience, recent research across travel safety, public health, and women’s studies reinforces several of her core messages: plan carefully, use reliable safety tools, stay connected, and respect local customs. For Thai readers, where family decisions and community norms shape travel choices, these findings resonate with both the excitement of independent travel and the need for mindful preparation.

Helsinki has retained its title as the world’s most sustainable tourist destination for 2025, a distinction awarded by the Global Destination Sustainability Index which tallies 70 indicators across more than a hundred cities. The top ranking underscores a growing global appetite for tourism that protects the climate, uplifts local communities, and keeps everyday life livable for residents. For Thai readers, the findings offer a concrete blueprint—an invitation to look beyond visitor numbers and toward how cities shape experiences, economies, and environments in the long run.

A Guardian travel feature highlights ten of the world’s best community tourism trips, spanning deserts, forests, coastlines, and villages, where local residents lead the experience rather than external guides. The piece isn’t just a list of pretty itineraries; it spotlights a growing research thread that asks who benefits when travelers seek authentic, locally run experiences. Across studies and field programs, researchers are finding that when communities own and manage tourist experiences, it can reshape livelihoods, preserve cultural heritage, and foster more sustainable use of natural resources. The message is clear: tourism is most meaningful when it foregrounds local agency, shared decision-making, and long-term stewardship rather than short-term spectacle.

A Budapest local who spent years in the heart of the city offers a curated map of four tourist spots to skip and four that are absolutely worth the crowd. The headline isn’t about downplaying Budapest’s grandeur; it’s about revealing a smarter way to experience a city that wears its history on every street corner. From opulent baths to bustling markets, the list mirrors a broader travel trend: travelers increasingly want authenticity, value, and space to breathe rather than a checklist of “must-sees.” For readers in Thailand planning European travel, the message lands with practical clarity: selective choices can transform a trip from a rushed montage into a human-scale experience.

The latest research wave surrounding the Galápagos Islands centers on a simple yet alarming question: can this Darwinian laboratory withstand the rapid spread of Airbnb-style tourism? The Galápagos, long celebrated as a natural treasure and a living classroom for evolution, are now at a crossroads as a growing influx of visitors arrives through short-term rental platforms. From researchers and residents alike, a chorus of concern emerges: too much access too quickly could imperil the very wildlife and fragile habitats that draw people here in the first place.

The Dominican Republic is pivoting toward a bold coastal transformation in Pedernales, home to the Cabo Rojo stretch of beaches that researchers say could redefine Caribbean tourism. Plans for a new international airport, a cruise port, and a cluster of luxury hotels are framed as a landmark shift away from the country’s traditional sun-and-sand hubs. Early discussions among economists and environmental scientists suggest the project could unlock significant local employment and infrastructure gains, while also raising urgent questions about conservation, cultural preservation, and climate resilience. For Thai readers watching how coastlines become engines of growth, the Pedernales case offers both a blueprint and a cautionary tale about the costs and trade-offs of rapid tourism expansion.

A cinematic wand is pulling travelers to Thai shores, but new research and a growing body of case studies warn that the rush may outpace local capacity. The latest findings on set-jetting—the phenomenon of fans flocking to real-world locations featured in popular TV shows and films—show that destinations can reap immediate economic boosts, yet risk congestion, environmental strain, and tensions with communities if growth isn’t managed carefully. In Thailand, where projects like The White Lotus have spotlighted locations such as Koh Samui, Bangkok, and Phuket, the tension between opportunity and sustainability has never felt more urgent.

A Guardian readers’ round-up of community travel experiences reveals a consistent thread: when travelers seek authentic encounters, they often land in initiatives that benefit local hosts and their wider communities. From women-led homestays in Nepal to conservation-focused dives in Mexico, wildlife-watching in East Sussex, and Crofting culture in the Scottish isles, these experiences attach value to local economies, cultural heritage, and environmental stewardship. The underlying message is that responsible, community-based travel can deliver tangible income, skills development, and mutual understanding — a formula many researchers say deserves attention in Thailand as domestic and regional tourism rebounds.