#Overtourism

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.

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.

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 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.

Japan’s gleaming trains, flawless hospitality, and postcard-perfect temples enchant millions of visitors each year. Yet behind the glittering facade lies a more complicated picture: a rising sense of anger and fatigue among local communities strained by crowds, rising prices, and a stubborn labour shortage in service sectors. The country has become a case study in how a tourism boom can lift an economy while testing the social fabric that makes travel feel joyful rather than intrusive. For Thai readers who are used to planning trips that balance wonder with responsibility, Japan’s experience offers both a warning and a blueprint for more sustainable, community-centered tourism.

Santiago de Compostela is experiencing a sharp paradox: a record wave of pilgrims and casual visitors converging on a centuries-old sacred city, even as scraps of everyday life vanish from its historic core. The latest research paints a stark image: last year’s pilgrimage influx reached a record half a million people, a number five times larger than the city’s own resident population. On the ground, that pressure shows up as choked streets, late-night hymns spilling into narrow lanes, and a housing market that has become almost inaccessible for locals. A telling, oft-quoted line from local residents captures the moment: the city has emptied out. Behind that stark assessment lies a web of policy decisions, cultural tensions, and a broader European trend that Thai readers will recognize in cities facing their own tourist-borne pressures.

On a rare hot July day along a fjord-side village in Geiranger, a United States–bound family clambers through heat and crowds that feel like a swarm of ants. The scene might have seemed paradoxical a decade ago: travelers chasing cooler climates to escape heat, only to collide with the very phenomenon they sought to outrun. In Norway and across northern Europe, this new travel impulse—dubbed “coolcation”—is reshaping tourism in ways that researchers, locals, and policymakers are still learning to balance. The latest questions are not just about who benefits from tourism, but about how to protect fragile landscapes, preserve local life, and ensure that sustainable choices really stick as visitor numbers rise.

Albania’s now-famous “hidden gem” allure is being tested by a wave of visitors that crowds places once praised for their quiet charm. In the village of Jale, once a postcard-image of sunlit beaches and unspoiled shorelines, the sense of discovery is giving way to queues, rising prices, and growing concerns about waste and traffic. A new wave of research and on-the-ground reporting suggests that the very appeal that drew travelers to Albania’s lesser-known corners could be at risk if planning, investment, and local voice are not better aligned with the realities of growing tourism.

In several European hotspots, “It’s 365 days a year” has become the new reality for locals who once welcomed visitors with seasonal flair. Protests in cities like Barcelona, Palma, and Venice have sharpened a global debate about overtourism: when the influx of travelers starts to erode daily life, housing markets, and the very character of beloved places. The latest research emerging from university centers and international tourism institutes paints a consistent picture: the crowding is not just a summer issue, and the consequences ripple through neighborhoods, small businesses, and long-term cultural sustainability. For Thai readers, this is less a distant headline and more a cautionary mirror—Thailand’s own destinations are grappling with similar pressures, and the best lessons come from how cities abroad are mapping and managing these challenges.

Naples is a city built on layered stories—pizza, sea breeze, and centuries of street life. Today its busiest arteries carry a counter-story as well: a surge of visitors and short‑term renters that many residents say hollow out neighborhoods, push families to the margins, and turn once-vibrant streets into open-air shopping malls. The stark portrayal of Naples in recent reporting is not merely a travel feature; it’s a case study in the real costs of tourism that pours money in but drains homes, culture, and community. “The historic center of Naples is dead,” a sociologist and activist who lives in the Sanitā district recently told reporters. “Those streets aren’t neighborhoods anymore. There are no Neapolitans left, no real life left. They’ve become playgrounds, open-air shopping malls.” That sentiment captures a broader pattern: when tourism grows faster than a city’s ability to manage it, the city risks losing the very qualities that drew visitors in the first place.

How the world’s most-visited country avoids resident backlash while breaking tourism records

While Spanish cities erupted in anti-tourist protests and Italian destinations buckled under visitor pressure in 2024, France quietly welcomed a record-breaking 100 million international visitors without triggering widespread social unrest. This remarkable achievement offers crucial insights for Thailand’s tourism industry as the kingdom seeks to balance economic growth with community well-being and environmental protection.

The French Formula: Dispersion, Domestic Travel, and Smart Management

France’s success stems from a carefully orchestrated strategy that prevents tourist saturation from reaching what researchers call the social “tipping point” — the moment when local tolerance collapses into active resistance. According to tourism analysts at Euronews and industry data from Atout France, this approach has three pillars that Thailand can adapt to its own unique context.

A new look at France’s tourism management offers practical guidance for Thailand as it balances growth with community well-being and environmental protection.

France avoided resident backlash and still posted record visitor numbers in 2024. Analysts say three core pillars kept demand from tipping into social resistance: geographic dispersion, a strong domestic travel market, and smart management of attractions. Thailand can adapt these lessons to fit its own unique landscape and cultural context.

France’s tourism numbers rebounded to new highs in 2024 without sparking the large-scale resident protests seen in parts of Spain and Italy, and researchers say a mix of dispersion, domestic travel and targeted management has kept pressure below a social “tipping point.” The findings are important for destinations wrestling with crowding because they show how policy, marketing and infrastructure can reduce hotspots even while overall visitor numbers rise. ( Euronews: Why France’s strategy is working in the age of overtourism )

A new approach in Copenhagen reframes tourism as a collaborative effort rather than a passive activity. While overtourism protests ripple through parts of Europe, Copenhagen invites visitors to contribute to city wellbeing and get rewarded for sustainable actions.

Tourism drives significant revenue across Europe, yet many cities grapple with overcrowding, housing pressures, and waste. Thailand faces similar dynamics as Bangkok, Chiang Mai, and Phuket welcome millions of visitors annually. The challenge is clear: grow the economy without eroding resources or local quality of life.

As European cities grapple with the mounting challenges of overtourism, Copenhagen is setting a bold new example—one that may resonate far beyond Denmark. While this summer has seen escalating protests against tourist-driven overcrowding in Barcelona, Genoa, Lisbon, the Canary Islands, and even outrage in Venice at celebrity spectacles, Copenhagen’s “CopenPay” pilot is offering an alternative. Instead of the familiar dichotomy between economic gain and local misery, the Danish capital is inviting visitors to help the city thrive—and rewarding them for their efforts. It’s a model that experts suggest could inspire new approaches for Thai destinations struggling with similar issues ().

Tourism in Japan is soaring in 2025, with millions of international travelers flocking to major cities and iconic sites. Yet the spike creates crowd pressures for residents and visitors alike. A growing narrative points to traditional gardens as peaceful counterpoints to bustling itineraries. These serene spaces offer respite during peak seasons and provide a culturally rich alternative to crowded hotspots.

In early 2025, Japan welcomed around 14.4 million international arrivals in just four months, a 24.5% increase year over year. Analysts project annual totals could surpass 40 million, marking a new milestone for the country’s travel sector. The surge boosts local economies and cultural exchange, but it also raises concerns about overtourism and congestion at popular sites.

Japan is experiencing an unprecedented tourism surge in 2025, with record-breaking numbers of international visitors flocking to its major cities, historical landmarks, and global cultural icons. Yet as the nation grapples with the double-edged sword of economic gain and overtourism fatigue, new research and travel narratives are highlighting a calming solution: the country’s lesser-known but culturally essential gardens, which promise a tranquil escape for both domestic and international tourists during even the most crowded peak seasons.

A wave of visitors to Japan shows no sign of slowing in early 2025. While famous markets in Tokyo and bamboo groves in Kyoto draw crowds, many travelers now seek quieter experiences that deepen cultural understanding. Recent travel analysis highlights traditional Japanese gardens as spaces for immersion at a gentler pace, providing relief from congestion and a more affordable route to engaging with the country’s heritage.

Thai audiences remain keen on Japan, especially during school holidays and sakura season. Families, solo explorers, and couples aim to visit iconic temples and entertainment districts, yet often encounter long queues and rushed moments. Data from official tourism bodies suggests a shift toward exploring lesser-known gardens that blend history with tranquility.

With Japan’s tourism industry surging to unprecedented levels—welcoming a record 14.4 million visitors in the first four months of 2025 alone according to The Japan Times—travelers from around the world continue to flock to the Land of the Rising Sun for its iconic cherry blossoms, culinary delights, and historic temples. As global wanderers pack famous locales like Tokyo’s Tsukiji Market and Kyoto’s bamboo groves, a growing number of tourists are seeking alternatives to crowded sites. Recent travel experiences and expert observations indicate that Japan’s centuries-old gardens offer a practical and affordable solution for those longing for genuine immersion and tranquility amid surging tourist numbers (The Japan Times).

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.

Kyoto’s tourism boom has tested the city’s serene identity. Record visitor numbers, boosted by social media and favorable exchange rates, strain narrow lanes and sacred sites. The question for Thai travelers and policymakers is how to sustain economic benefits while protecting culture and daily life.

Recent data shows Kyoto welcomed nearly 37 million international visitors in 2024, with numbers continuing to grow in 2025. The influx has transformed quiet streets into crowded corridors filled with photo seekers, challenging residents and the authenticity travelers seek. This serves as a cautionary tale: tourism can boost economies yet disrupt communities if not carefully managed.

A downturn in Hawaii’s tourism this summer serves as a warning to island destinations worldwide. A new report shows fewer visitors than last year, signaling potential stress on local livelihoods and the broader travel economy. Thailand, navigating post-pandemic shifts, can draw important lessons from Hawaii’s experience.

Historically, Hawaii welcomed more than 10 million visitors annually, a benchmark for island economies. The decline results from several factors, including lingering effects of the 2023 Lahaina fire, higher travel costs, and broader global economic changes. Economists warn the downturn could persist, with implications for jobs and business activity in the months ahead. The situation highlights how quickly tourism-dependent communities feel the impact of shocks.

Hawaii’s tourism sector — long considered a bellwether for global island destinations — is experiencing a significant downturn this summer, sparking worry among industry experts, policymakers, and local businesses. A new report by SFGate highlights that June’s daily visitor counts are down sharply compared to 2024, with similar trends expected for July and August, shattering hopes for a robust seasonal recovery (SFGate). The story holds vital lessons for the Thai tourism industry, which faces its own post-pandemic uncertainties.