Ask a Barcelonian vacation-home entrepreneur about overtourism and the likely response will be “The more the merrier”. Ask his placard-wielding neighbour what she thinks, and “Tourist go home” is quite clear in any language. With over 15 million international visitors in 2024, this city of five million (in its greater metropolitan area) has become the poster child for Europe’s questionable success in revitalising healthy tourism.

According to the UN World Tourism Barometer, 747 million international arrivals stormed European shores in 2024 (mostly to southern and western nations) while the Asia-Pacific region welcomed 316 million (that’s 87% of pre-pandemic numbers) and the sub-area of South Asia recovered to 92% of pre-Covid days, with the Maldives posting 20% more tourists than in 2019, Fiji 10% and Sri Lanka 7%. (See sidebar.)

That’s encouraging recovery. But at what cost? Why are travel analysts and assorted scribblers moaning about ‘overtourism’ or ‘revenge tourism’? Why are residents of Amsterdam, Lisbon, Venice (the ultimate in overload), Athens, Prague, Rome, or even New York (the apotheosis of cynicism) feeling the dark side of this resurgence?

Taking back power

An example of how one community dealt with the dilemma is the Japanese town of Fujikawaguchiko, whose residents erected a view-blocking black screen 2.5 metres high by 20 metres long at a spot that appears to show Mount Fuji sitting atop a convenience store – perfect for thousands of tourists taking selfies each day, but also leaving behind them tons of trash and debris for locals to clean up. The residents’ message was clear: to see Mount Fuji, go elsewhere. Fears of a typhoon had the screen taken down, but town leaders say it will go back up if visitors don’t behave.

In the European tourism sector, it’s not as easy as building a screen. There’s too much to see and experience, too much common heritage to keep bundled up locally. Accommodation is necessary – there’s no alternative. Yet, when local residents find their costs of housing and daily subsistence exponentially inflated by a new Airbnb just down the street catering to free-spending tourists on their once-a-year fling, or when natives have to fight for shoulder room in their own neighbourhood trattoria or gasthaus, they get cranky. But that’s the tradeoff local residents throughout the world must often make when tourism becomes their dominant source of livelihood – or when they let it become so. Not all do.

According to Barcelona Mayor Jaume Collboni, the surge of entrepreneurial holiday residences such as Airbnbs and other similar variations was “the biggest problem in our city”, which at the time had 10,000 short-term rental apartments waiting to be filled by tourists. Collboni warned that when their licences expired in 2028, they would not be renewed. But this is not an isolated case: according to the Spanish Registrars Association, every third property sold to buyers in Spain’s Balearic Islands goes to non-residents – thus pitting Spanish average-wage earners against high-salaried buyers from Northern Europe.

According to the German Holiday Home Association, almost half of overnight stays in Germany are now in short-term rentals instead of hotels; and local authorities in other major cities, including Paris, Amsterdam, Berlin and Lisbon, are imposing sanctions on short-term rental accommodation. Even in New York, tightening rental regulations are raising alarms.

And then, there are the tourists – millions of them.

Croatia’s bustling port city of Dubrovnik (with a population of around 45,000 and famous for its Old Town medieval architecture and fortifications), accommodates over 1.5 million visitors annually, among them day trippers from 600 cruise ship calls. To city officials, and vendors, they’re welcome. But when visiting the hallowed Old Town sector, best behaviour is de rigueur. It’s a matter of respecting local traditions and venues: no swimwear or other excessively brief clothing; no containers of alcohol or drug paraphernalia, or face the risk of fines of €150. And Dubrovnik is certainly not the only area imposing fines for misbehaviour. According to Euronews, the Costa del Sol is taking a pre-emptive strike against one less talked-about side effect of beachside excess: peeing in the ocean. Taking inspiration from the northern Spanish town of Vigo, which introduced fines of up to €750 for “physiological evacuation on the beach or in the sea” three years ago, Marbella has followed suit by more than doubling its own penalties (previously €300) to match Vigo’s.

According to the UN World Tourism Barometer, 747 million international arrivals ‎stormed European shores in 2024

Asia Pacific and its international travellers

When surveying the problems of tourist resurgence in the Asia-Pacific region, a pee in the ocean is hardly a headline. With Thailand, the Philippines, Indonesia, Micronesia and Polynesia overrun by plastic waste, beach litter, wastewater pollution and the closure of many beaches, the value of tourism deserves more scrutiny.

On the island of Bali, the Indonesian government has set a moratorium on hotel, villa and nightclub construction “to preserve the island’s indigenous culture”.

There, as in Europe, tourists are searching out alternatives to pricey hotels to make their dollars, yen, euros, pesos and, most of all, yuan (Chinese are the leading tourists) go further and buy more.

These are big numbers, but local authorities point to inestimable damage to the environment and way of life. Thailand, the Philippines, Indonesia, Micronesia and Polynesia are being forced to close many beaches that are overwhelmed by plastic waste, litter, and wastewater pollution. In Thailand, the beaches of Maya Bay had to be shut down temporarily for ecological damage; and Boracay in the Philippines – site of many Hollywood movies – was shut down for six months for a total clean-up. Is it any wonder that movements like ‘Bali Is Not for Tourists’ are sprouting as counterparts to those in Barcelona or Venice?  

Commenting on Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) countries’ deep reliance on tourism, the Jakarta Post targeted easily obtained visas, budget airlines bringing millions of tourists, Instagram hotspots attracting crowds, as well as poor infrastructure, narrow roads, water shortages and the displacement of locals as the cause of rising rents and overcrowding, which are pushing the Balinese out of their own neighbourhoods and generating cultural erosion, with sacred sites that are overwhelmed by photo ops and traffic chaos.

Conservationists’ necessity

And then there’s New Zealand, known for its breathtaking landscapes and rich indigenous culture, where a different frame of mind is emerging and where government is taking a proactive position to avoid the stresses of overtourism before a clean-up is needed. Just recently, New Zealand tripled its International Visitor Conservation and Tourism Levy to NZ$100 (£47.20) per head, a move travel sellers see as a downer, but which conservationists see as a necessity.

Just recently, New Zealand tripled its International Visitor Conservation and Tourism ‎Levy to NZ$100 (£47.20) per head

Commenting on the levy, The Asia Live, a digital news platform reporting on issues specific to South Asia, hailed the hike as a positive, suggesting further that though there may be a slowdown for incoming tourism, it may encourage a new way of looking at the value of ‘slow travel’ – getting past the checklist mentality that goes with cramming as many famous sights as possible into a short period and racing from one attraction to another just to snap the perfect photo. In effect, the obverse of the bucket-list method of cramming a life’s worth of adventure into a sprint rather than a walk.