Tourist favourites loved to death — where to now?

For decades the perceived wisdom in the word of tourism was simple: attract more tourists. Put up billboards, assail them with adverts, market to their phones and convince airlines to add more flights. Because more tourists meant more money, more employment, more investment and happier locals. Until, one day, it didn’t.

Until the water pistols came out and the daubed graffiti shouted, “Tourists Go Home”, as locals protested about the loss of their towns and cities to an avalanche of Airbnb lockboxes and GoPro-toting travellers. Social media surely has to take some blame here, focusing the lens on an ever-smaller number of cities and scenic spots, attracting more travellers who post and Reel and TikTok it into an echo chamber that repeats itself again and again.

Take Barcelona’s iconic La Boqueria Market as a poster child: once one of Europe’s most famous markets, filled with vendors selling fresh produce to the city’s chefs and residents, today the alleyways are jammed only with tour groups and backpackers buying shrimp cones and cut-price Serrano ham.

 “Tourism has taken this market from us,” butcher Yolanda Serrano told the New York Times recently. “Our customers can’t come here anymore because they can’t get through with their carts. But I’m a butcher, I don’t want to sell crappy empanadillas.”

But now, cities are fighting back in a bid to make tourists, or at least some of them, stay away.

First stop? Airbnb. While travellers have long loved the cheap accommodation and sense of “living like a local” in another city, the problem is that while tourists are in that apartment, where do the actual locals live? In a bid to free up rental stock, cities worldwide are clamping down: New York has banned short-term rentals under 30 days, Barcelona has restricted new licences and Amsterdam will only offer new permits for rentals outside of the historic centre. Hoteliers, understandably, are thrilled: in New York, prices spiked 7.4% in the 12 months after Local Law 18 came into force.

Hitting travellers in their pocket is another popular strategy.

From October 1, New Zealand will triple its International Visitor Conservation and Tourism Levy (IVL) from $22 to $62 (R1100), as much to counter the effects of tourism and attract a high-spending market, rather than dissuade tourists altogether. Barcelona and Amsterdam both levy a tourist tax up to R90 per night, while Bali recently launched a $10 (R180) tourist tax, ostensibly to fund conservation and infrastructure projects required because of the onslaught of tourists.

Barcelona is also leading the charge in a bid to make the city more livable for locals again, and it might change the way you travel. Parc Guell is one of the most popular sights in the city, but often overrun, making it hard for locals to use public services in the outlying Gracia neighbourhood. To keep the bus services more accessible for locals, the city had Google remove the local bus line from its results on Google Maps. Tourists, make your own way.

Parc Guell was so popular that the city also recently closed the ticket office. In a bid to manage numbers, visitors can now only book online in advance. That’s a tactic being used increasingly worldwide. In Kyoto, Japan, popular sites like Fushimi Inari Shrine and Kinkaku-ji require advance reservations during peak seasons, and the number of visitors allowed per time slot is regulated.

At the “Path of Love” that reopened on Italy’s Cinque Terre earlier in 2024, only 400 visitors per hour are allowed to pre-book the chance to walk on a path. It’s a bellwether of just how bad overtourism gets when focused on one, oversold, destination. In Dubrovnik, the number of visitors to the Old City is also limited, and timed tickets are essential for popular corners of the city. Venice, another victim of overtourism, is now essentially a theme park, hardly a city, with a booking system for day-trippers.

But reducing apartments and charging a few extra dollars isn’t going to make much of a difference. The change needs to come from us, the travellers. And the choices are quite simple, really.

Go somewhere else, at a different time, for instance. My favourite memories of Spain are winding roads leading into the Pyrenees and stumbling on impromptu castells in villages without another tourist in sight. In Italy, it was the mountain towns of Liguria, where hand-signals and a smile got me a memorable dinner of pasta with summer truffles.

And if you really want to walk Las Ramblas, or have an overpriced espresso on St Mark’s Square, go in the off-season. You’ll have more space to wander and the locals will thank you for extending the season. The same goes for cruising: travel off-season where possible, and if you want quieter ports and fewer crowds, look to lesser-known itineraries and smaller ships. Cruise the Norwegian fjords with Hurtigruten, or tap into lesser-visited islands of Greece with Ponant. Both run smaller ships than the Royal Caribbean behemoths, and that means smaller ports, less impact and a more authentic experience. And, after all, isn’t that why we travel?