Kyoto, Japan’s fabled city of tranquil temples and ancient tradition, is groaning under the weight of a tourism boom so intense that even its famed serenity seems to be fading. As foreign visitors surge to record highs, experts and locals are asking: Has the search for ‘real Japan’ turned Kyoto into a tourist trap, and what lessons does this overtourism crisis hold for other Asia-Pacific destinations, including Thailand?
Kyoto’s growing pains are a parable for the age of global wanderlust. Once famed for the hush of its geisha districts, quiet lanes, and mossy Zen gardens, the city now wears the marks of its billion-yen popularity. According to the report in New York Magazine’s Intelligencer (nymag.com), the city welcomed almost 37 million international visitors in 2024—a staggering leap from 6 million in 2011. This year’s arrivals are running another 25% higher. The allure? Social media’s stylized images, a favorable currency rate, and the ease of digital navigation have made Kyoto more accessible than ever. But the impact is visceral: iconic streets pack thick with streams of photo-chasing travelers, while local culture contorts to accommodate the global demand.
Why does this matter to readers in Thailand? Tourism is a double-edged sword for many countries in Asia. In Thailand, international arrivals soared past 40 million in 2019 (Tourism Authority of Thailand), and officials are targeting a record-breaking rebound now that pandemic restrictions have fully lifted. The shifts seen in Kyoto presage challenges for Bangkok, Chiang Mai, Phuket, and heritage-rich Thai towns also wooing global visitors. Lessons from Kyoto’s balancing act—between economic windfall and cultural dissolution—offer urgent reflection for Thai policymakers, business owners, and citizens.
What is overtourism doing to Kyoto? According to first-hand accounts collected by the article, the city’s historic Gion district has been virtually colonized by tourists in rented kimonos, who accidentally walk into local homes while searching for ‘authentic experiences.’ Geisha are stalked by smartphone-wielding tourists desperate for photos, prompting city authorities to deploy digital warnings and multilingual signage urging respectful conduct. The constant crowds aren’t merely a nuisance; they fundamentally change the city’s atmosphere, undermining the quietude that draws travelers in the first place. At revered shrines like Fushimi Inari, centuries-old places of meditation have become Instagram hot spots so crowded that the ‘moment of Zen’ is nearly impossible to find.
Statistics highlight the scope. Japan’s tourism numbers mirror a global trend: in the decade before COVID-19, international tourist arrivals worldwide rose by 60%. Today, over 1.4 billion people cross international borders annually, with 80% clustering in just 10% of destinations—a phenomenon mirrored in Thai hotspots like Maya Bay or Erawan Shrine (UNWTO report). The resulting congestion is provoking city-wide protests in Europe and rising local frustration throughout Asia. For Kyoto, with its population plateaued at 1.4 million since 1975, the influx is especially visible: the bullet train delivers 150,000 daily visitors, and tourism density now outstrips even cities like Paris or Barcelona.
To manage the crowds, local entrepreneurs and international hotel groups alike are transforming Kyoto’s historic machiya houses into boutique hotels, cafes, and designer stores, often at the expense of local businesses. The famous Nishiki Market, once called ‘Kyoto’s kitchen,’ now loses its fresh vegetable stalls to matcha pop-ups and sake shots targeted at tourists. Markets and alleys where locals once shopped and strolled have split into two camps: those seeking to cash in, and those fleeing the surfeit of foreigners. Locals, quoted in the article, express a blend of resignation and quiet nostalgia for the calm that briefly returned during the pandemic, only to be lost again amid the flood.
The clash between local culture and visitor expectations is perhaps sharpest in Kyoto’s ryokan, or traditional inns. These venues now report foreign occupancy approaching 90% in some cases. However, cultural misunderstandings run deep—kaisekis (elaborate multi-course meals) are left uneaten, chefs are offended, and some inns consider abandoning the meals altogether, threatening to erase a hallmark of Japanese culinary tradition. Restaurant owners and izakaya chefs also struggle, often restricting foreign customers after being overwhelmed by crowds drawn in by viral social media posts.
Thailand faces many of the same contradictions: the tension between showcasing unique heritage and preserving it from the crushing tide of visitor demand. Chiang Mai’s old city, once a haven of quiet temples and family-run guesthouses, now contends with a glut of international chains and trendy coffee shops shaped by trends from Instagram and TikTok. Maya Bay, immortalized by “The Beach,” was closed for years due to environmental degradation caused by unchecked tourism (Bangkok Post report).
Expert opinions offer a spectrum of responses. As tourism management professor Yusuke Ishiguro at Hokkaido University noted, Japan’s public has so far shied away from aggressive protest or drastic restrictions seen in Europe, preferring incremental solutions—more signage, gentle reminders, occasional entry limits. But as veteran preservationist Alex Kerr argues, the situation is already “beyond the limits,” and stronger measures—entrance fees, reservation systems, caps—may be inevitable. “There’s this ingrained attitude that it would be unfair, but when we’ve reached overcapacity, which we have, then you have a new world,” Kerr told New York Magazine.
Some Kyoto businesses have adapted, shifting to online ticketing for traditional events, or marketing local festivals to a more international clientele. Yet, as the article notes, the invocation of ‘change is inevitable’—“shouganai”—comes with melancholy. With each adaptation, the distinctiveness that once made Kyoto exceptional risks dilution. The B-side of the city, the cozy izakaya or hidden tea shop, becomes harder to find as word-of-mouth secrets become algorithmic recommendations.
For Thai readers, the parallels are vivid. During the pandemic, many Thais remarked on the return of blue water to Maya Bay, the peace on Ratchadamnoen Avenue, or the ease of exploring Chiang Mai’s ancient moats and downtown. Now, with borders open and pent-up demand for travel surging, the question looms: how can Thailand enjoy the enormous economic benefits of tourism without sacrificing its own soul?
One lesson from Kyoto is the necessity of management—not just marketing. Proactive steps that Thai cities can consider include:
- Limiting daily visitor numbers to sensitive cultural and natural sites through reservations and ticketing—Maya Bay’s reopening is a recent example (BBC).
- Implementing clear, multilingual educational campaigns on local etiquette, as seen in Gion’s anti-harassment messaging.
- Empowering local communities to shape tourism policy, ensuring preservation of unique traditions and neighborhood integrity.
- Allocating tourism revenue towards cultural preservation, infrastructure improvements, and compensation for communities impacted by visitor overload.
- Promoting off-peak travel and lesser-known destinations, distributing economic benefits more evenly and relieving pressure from popular sites.
Experts warn against excessive reliance on platforms that churn out ‘top 10’ experiences, fueling herd behavior and overwhelming key attractions. Instead, the fostering of genuine, slower travel experiences—a principle rooted in the Thai concept of ‘sabai sabai’—can help steer tourism towards sustainability rather than spectacle. Community-based tourism models, which have found success in parts of northern Thailand and Isaan, can offer travelers meaningful encounters while keeping benefits within local hands (Thai Ecotourism and Adventure Travel Association). However, these efforts require consistent investment, partnership with local stakeholders, and above all, respect for the lived realities of residents.
Looking forward, the challenges seen in Kyoto will demand creativity and courage from Thai policymakers. With global travel likely to keep rising, and new generations of travelers seeking ever more ‘authentic’ experiences, the need to set boundaries—to say ‘enough’—becomes pressing. As Japan’s experience reveals, festooning cities with friendly signs is not enough when streets, markets, and homes are physically overwhelmed.
For Thai readers—travelers, business owners, officials, and residents alike—the call to action is clear: Embrace tourism, but not at any cost. Advocate for policies that put local culture, community happiness, and the environment at the heart of tourism growth. Seek not only the economic windfall, but the preservation of what made Thailand enchanting in the first place. And for travelers, whether exploring Japan, Thailand, or anywhere: read the signs—literal and figurative—about how to be a guest, not a consumer. Your respect is part of the experience.
For further reading, see the full New York Magazine report on Kyoto’s overtourism (“How Kyoto, Japan Became the World’s Loveliest Tourist Trap”), UN World Tourism Organization statistics (unwto.org), Bangkok Post coverage of Thai tourism (bangkokpost.com), and examples of sustainable tourism practices in Thailand (teata.or.th).