#Sustainabletravel

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.

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.

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 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.

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.

A fresh analysis of seven globally popular travel destinations suggests a troubling disconnect between the glossy, photo-perfect reels on Instagram and the messy, often disappointing realities on the ground. The latest research points to a common pattern: when places become famous online, they attract crowds that overwhelm infrastructure, degrade environments, and strain local communities. The study’s findings resonate deeply with Thai readers who routinely juggle family trips, budget constraints, and a growing appetite for responsible travel in a country famed for its cultural treasures and natural beauty.

Portland Parish on Jamaica’s northeast coast is being celebrated as the island’s greenest region, a quiet revolution in tourism that prioritizes nature, culture, and small-scale enterprise over mass-market resorting. The National Geographic feature portrays a place where year-round rainfall fosters lush ecosystems, where visitors mingle with locals at low-key beaches, and where your stay can be intimate rather than corporate. Recent tourism data from Jamaica’s tourism authorities show the island drew more than four million visitors in 2024 and is projected to generate about $5 billion in revenue in 2025, underscoring a global appetite for experiential travel that respects place and people. Portland’s appeal rests not on oversized hotels but on pastoral landscapes, tucked-away waterfalls, and wellness retreats that invite rest, reflection, and a slower pace.

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.

A dramatic shift in Italy’s tourism reveals how climate change is rewriting travel patterns. For Thailand, which depends on steady visitor numbers, the lesson runs deep: temperature rises could shift demand from coastlines to cooler inland regions.

Italy’s summer migration from beaches to the Alps and Dolomites shows that rising heat can change where people choose to vacation. This presents both challenges and opportunities for destinations that rely on seasonal tourism, including Thailand.

A new BBC feature highlights ethical risks in last-chance tourism. ( BBC Travel: An ethical guide to last-chance tourism )

Researchers warn that tourists who rush to vanishing sites can worsen environmental decline. ( BBC Travel: An ethical guide to last-chance tourism )

The story draws on recent academic work about grief, management, and visitor pressure. ( KU News: Eco-necrotourism study summary ) ( SSRN: Eco-Necrotourism and Public Land Management )

Last-chance tourism means visiting places likely to disappear from climate change. ( BBC Travel: An ethical guide to last-chance tourism )

A haunting paradox sits beneath Thailand’s sunlit shores. Maya Bay, once a glittering centerpiece of the country’s tourism crown, was closed for restoration after years of damage. Now reopened, it offers a timely lesson on the double-edged lure of “last-chance” tourism, where travelers race to see wonders before climate change erases them, often accelerating their decline.

The rise of eco-necrotourism is reshaping how destinations are managed. Instead of carefree recreation, visitors arrive with a sense of urgency and grief for disappearing landscapes. Research from leading universities and travel scholars shows that emotional drivers create unique management challenges for park staff and require new conservation strategies.

The crystal waters around Maya Bay once sparkled like jewels in Thailand’s tourism crown. Today, after years of closure and careful restoration, this iconic destination offers a powerful lesson about the double-edged sword of “last-chance” tourism—the global phenomenon driving millions to witness natural wonders before climate change erases them forever.

The Paradox of Farewell Tourism

Recent research from BBC Travel and academic institutions reveals a troubling paradox: the very tourists rushing to save memories of disappearing places may be accelerating their destruction. This emerging field, termed “eco-necrotourism” by researchers, examines how grief over environmental loss drives travel decisions—often with devastating consequences.

As travellers increasingly seek out landscapes and species thought to be vanishing under rising seas, warming oceans and melting ice, researchers warn that last-chance or “see-it-before-it’s-gone” tourism can both raise awareness and accelerate destruction if poorly managed. New scholarship frames the trend as a distinct policy challenge — dubbed eco-necrotourism — that forces park managers, tour operators and governments to contend with visitors’ grief, grief-driven demand, and the legal and practical limits of access. The debate matters for Thailand because coral reefs, mangroves and other coastal attractions already under stress draw millions of domestic and international visitors whose choices will shape local livelihoods and the country’s nature-based tourism future.

As travellers increasingly seek out landscapes and species thought to be vanishing under rising seas, warming oceans and melting ice, researchers warn that last-chance or “see-it-before-it’s-gone” tourism can both raise awareness and accelerate destruction if poorly managed. New scholarship frames the trend as a distinct policy challenge — dubbed eco-necrotourism — that forces park managers, tour operators and governments to contend with visitors’ grief, grief-driven demand, and the legal and practical limits of access. The debate matters for Thailand because coral reefs, mangroves and other coastal attractions already under stress draw millions of domestic and international visitors whose choices will shape local livelihoods and the country’s nature-based tourism future (An ethical guide to last-chance tourism).

A growing trend in travel invites visitors to witness habitat loss before it disappears. Researchers warn that “see-it-before-it’s-gone” tourism can raise awareness but may hasten damage if poorly managed. Scholars frame this as eco-necrotourism, a policy challenge for park managers, tour operators, and governments who must balance visitors’ grief with practical access limits. For Thailand, where coral reefs and mangroves draw millions of travelers, the way this trend is handled will shape livelihoods and the future of nature-based tourism.

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.

Hidden in northern Greece, the Prespa Lakes region tells a powerful story about sustainable, community-driven travel. It shows how remote places can prosper without losing their natural soul. The basin where Greece, Albania, and North Macedonia meet has become a standout example of inclusive tourism that protects biodiversity and supports local livelihoods.

For Thai readers, Prespa offers a refreshing alternative to overtouristed destinations. The area features two ancient lakes—Great Prespa and Lesser Prespa—that have witnessed the mountains and waters for millions of years. The landscape resonates with familiar Thai scenery: oak forests descending to crystal waters, and villages tucked along ridgelines. Yet Prespa’s biodiversity is extraordinary, with 172 butterfly species documented in a compact region, far surpassing counts in many parts of Europe. Pelicans glide across the lakes, while brown bears roam forested slopes, painting a picture of a vibrant ecosystem comparable to Southeast Asia’s famed wildlife corridors.

A remote, mountainous corner of northern Greece known as the Prespa lakes basin—a crossroads of Greece, Albania, and North Macedonia—is rapidly gaining attention among nature tourists and conservationists, thanks to new research and grassroots efforts to boost sustainable travel while preserving its stunning biodiversity. Once virtually unknown outside dedicated ornithologist and ecotourist circles, this region is now being promoted as a destination for walkers, birdwatchers, and anyone seeking a deeper connection with unspoiled landscapes, centuries-old culture, and unique wildlife ().

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.