How to Handle a Tourist Tsunami

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As we all know, tourists are the worst¹. They’re gawky, confused, constantly in the way. They dress poorly, talk loudly, act like they own the place—which is our place, which we own. They seem to think that the money they’re spending entitles them to behave like monsters because they’re supporting our economy; we are now all communists as a result. They tend to mass in the same places, to do the same things—things which we would never do, or never do now, though we might, if pressed, admit to once having done them ourselves. Like I said, tourists are the worst.

And oh Christ, there are a lot of them! According to UN Tourism’s “World Tourism Barometer,” which seems like just the kind of thing an organization called UN Tourism would create, 1.4 billion people traveled internationally in 2024. That’s more than a sixth of the world’s population, and it doesn’t even count that family of seven from Duluth who thought it was okay to simply halt at the top of the stairs out of the 23rd Street station on the F line. Essentially, we’re back at pre-pandemic levels of international tourism, and lots of people are hoping that 2025 will break new records.

But some aren’t. All around the world, “locals” are getting fed up with the tourist tsunamis flooding their towns and cities, ruining their economies at the same time they’re propping them up, and they are starting to fight back. In Barcelona last summer, locals sprayed tourists with water guns. Across the Greek islands the summer before, the “Towel Movement” protested the egregious cost of lounge chairs on beaches—as much as €120 in some cases. Venice is now charging day-trippers an entry fee; so is the picturesque little Pugliese village of Polignano a Mare. And for a couple of years now, Airbnb has been facing restrictions from Austin to Amsterdam.

Everyone seems to have agreed on the culprit: It’s the fault of social media in general, and TikTok in particular. What’s more, they all know the solution: Make it more difficult—more expensive, harder to book, less friendly—for TikTok travelers to visit.

But—surprise!—they are wrong.

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Look, I’ve been a tourist-hater since way back. I spent my teenage years in Williamsburg, Virginia, a town whose economy absolutely depended on visitors who were drawn in by the allure of “history brought to life” but who mostly just wanted to ride the roller coasters at Busch Gardens. I sneered at the tourons from my skateboard on DOG Street by day; I delivered them Domino’s pizza by night. I wished for them to go away, even as I knew that if a genie were to grant my heart’s desire, it would cripple the town. Now I live in New York, where as a runner I’ve learned to avoid certain places—as picturesque as it is, the Brooklyn Bridge is a no-go zone—while suffering through others (Dumbo is selfie hell on a weekend morning).

That said, I think we are all too harsh on tourists, especially the TikTok variety. Yes, they are always underfoot, and the “influencers” they follow are both loathsome and superficial. But the thing we really need to notice is that they are all young².

Young people are amazing and terrible. They have an energy and enthusiasm we admire and envy. They can throw themselves into things with a full-bodied fervor that we older and more experienced folks can scarcely dream of. But they are also idiots, making rash, uninformed decisions and behaving like fools—fools who take selfies of their foolishness. This is true in general, and especially for travel. And it’s true because they are young. By definition, they lack experience, of the world, of themselves, and they act accordingly.

Put yourself in the shoes of a 23-year-old who wants to travel. (Wait, are you a 23-year-old who wants to travel? Cool! Thanks for reading this reasonably high-quality newsletter!) Where are you supposed to get your inspiration? Do you really think you’re going to read the collected works of Paul Theroux or Pico Iyer? Are you going to pore over old atlases or thumb through Lonely Planet guidebooks at, like, Barnes & Noble? Are you going to read a [chortles uncontrollably] travel magazine? No, you’re going to turn to the device in your pocket and all the infinite worlds it contains on TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube. Those places look amazing! Tens of thousands of people have clicked the little heart button on the videos and added their own bland approvals in the comments, and that could be you! And why not? Travel has never been cheaper or more accessible, and since you’re new to it, why not go to the place that looks like fun on your phone. Yes, hundreds of thousands of people your age are doing likewise, but isn’t that what you want? To be a full-fledged member of your own generation?

Just because my generation (X, fwiw) did it differently doesn’t mean we were right. In fact, we had our own forms of groupthink. In the mid-1990s, scads of us went to Southeast Asia, while others went to Eastern Europe, all hoping to discover something new about the post-Communist world: about its people, history, potential, about the West’s role in shaping (or not) its past and future, and about how to live in a newly multipolar world. Kidding! We were there to drink, hook up, make money, and live well in places where it didn’t cost much and where the mere fact that most of us spoke English and had college degrees guaranteed us a status we never would’ve had at home. We—I—did embarrassing, cringeworthy things every single day, because we were young and inexperienced, but because there were far fewer of us (Gen X being historically the least populous generation) and because we didn’t have digital cameras, it didn’t seem as bad.

When you’re young and traveling, you’re almost always—unless you are supremely confident in yourself and your abilities—following in someone else’s footsteps. And if you keep traveling, you will probably soon learn: This is boring. The images and activities that travel media presents to you, whether on TikTok or in the pages of a glossy magazine, are designed to be eye-catching but also mid—as in, aimed squarely at the most middle-of-the-road travelers, the inexperienced ones who’ve not yet learned that, say, they don’t care all that much for museums, that white-sand beaches can be dull, or that there’s not a ton to do in Dumbo once you’ve taken a selfie in front of the Manhattan Bridge, especially when the place is crammed with other tourists like you. It took me many, many trips to Europe before I decided I don’t really need to see the interior of another church. Maybe if there’s a Caravaggio inside, or I need to get out of the midday heat, fine, but for the most part, I can skip them and focus on flea markets and third-tier museums, good ice cream and bookshops and hiking, or just hanging out with my friends and doing whatever they feel like doing.

So the solution for all of us is: Wait. The throngs who follow influencers will eventually go elsewhere—with any luck off on their own to do things they’ve learned they actually enjoy—and the next generation of young travelers will find their own models, as different from the Instagram stars of today as Bruce Chatwin was from Isabella Bird. I realize this doesn’t much help your Barcelonas and Japans dealing with over-tourism right now, but I think water guns, the evil eye, and higher prices will work for them. Patience might work, too. We all grow up sooner or later and find that the passions of our youth have become mysterious, while other novelties, long ignored, now appeal to a part of our souls we never knew existed. We trade the beach party for a lake picnic, the selfie for a sketchbook, the late nights out for a knitting club in the suburbs of a city we’ve never visited. We can roll our eyes at the trendoids, but know that they’ll be doing likewise, at another crop of young travelers, a few decades hence.

And as long as they all stay away from my favorite parts of Brooklyn, I’ll be satisfied. 🪨🪨🪨

It’s Good and I Like It: Blondie in China

On the surface, she seems like she might be your average travel influencer: blonde, young, effervescent. But Amy from Australia speaks very good Chinese, wanders in some far-flung corners of that very large country, and finds and eats so much good (and spicy!) food. She’s my own personal influencer. Watch her!

Notes

1. Okay, these days maybe the second worst.

2. I will acknowledge, of course, that there are MANY old travelers who are ruining the world through tourism as well. We’ll save that for a later essay, though.

Read Yesterday’s Attempt