Have you ever seen that perfect picture on Instagram? You know the one. A quiet, charming village tucked away from the world, the ultimate escape. So you book the trip, pack your bags, and finally arrive, ready for some peace. And so did everyone else. That quiet escape is now a 2-hour queue for a shuttle bus. The authentic local cafe is packed with people taking selfies. The serene hiking trail feels more like a crowded city sidewalk. This isn’t just a case of bad timing. It’s a global phenomenon called “overtourism,” and it’s what happens when a place’s popularity becomes its most significant, most destructive threat.
It’s a crisis that’s booming. The global tourism industry is projected to bounce back from the pandemic with a vengeance. This surge is fueled by what some call “revenge travel,” with millions of us booking trips in record numbers after years of being cooped up. And international tourist arrivals? They just keep climbing. A huge catalyst for this is social media. It can turn a hidden gem into a global hotspot in literally just a few hours.
Think about this: a staggering 85% of millennials admit to using other people’s social media posts to plan their vacations. That’s a potent force, and it’s having some seriously unintended consequences. For the small towns at the center of this storm, it’s an impossible choice. Do they take advantage of the economic lifeline that tourism offers? Or do they fight to preserve their environment, their culture, and their sanity? Here’s a look at 10 places grappling with that very question right now.
Hallstatt, Austria: The Fairytale Village Drowning in Tourists
Hallstatt is, without a doubt, the poster child for being overloved. Picture this: a stunning Alpine village with a tiny population of just 780 residents. Now, imagine up to 10,000 tourists flooding its narrow streets. Every. Single. Day. That works out to nearly 13 tourists for every local person. Before the pandemic, the town was already attracting over a million visitors annually.
So, how did this happen? Its fame exploded for several reasons. First, a rumor spread that it was the inspiration for the kingdom of Arendelle in Disney’s Frozen—a claim the filmmakers have denied. Then, it was dubbed “the most instagrammable village in the world” across Asia, which led to a full-size replica of the town being built in Guangdong, China. The result has been a total transformation of the village, and not for the better. The statistics are mind-boggling. In 2014, around 7,900 tour buses visited Hallstatt. By 2019, that number had skyrocketed to over 21,000. By August 2023, the locals had finally reached their breaking point.
In an act of desperation, about 100 residents blocked the town’s only access tunnel, holding up signs that read, “Visitors’ limitation, reclaim habitat,” and “Tourism yes – mass tourism no.” The town’s mayor, Alexander Scheutz, has been forced to take action. He’s introduced a cap on the number of tour buses allowed into the village each day. In a move that highlights the severity of the situation, the town even erected a wooden “anti-selfie fence” to block the view from the most popular photo spot. It was later taken down after a fierce backlash on social media.
You can feel the frustration. This situation reveals something more profound about modern tourism. Hallstatt’s problem isn’t just about too many people; it’s about a particular kind of pop-culture-driven tourism. The (incorrect) link to Frozen created a powerful story that attracts a certain type of visitor: the day-tripper who comes for one specific photo, not for a deep cultural dive. They clog the streets, take their selfies, and leave, often without staying overnight or spending much money in local shops and restaurants. This creates a “pop culture curse,” where the very image that makes the town famous becomes the source of its destruction, causing maximum disruption for minimal sustainable benefit.
Cinque Terre, Italy: When Postcard-Perfect Becomes a Problem
The five breathtaking cliff-side villages of Italy’s Cinque Terre are another postcard-perfect dream that has turned into a logistical nightmare. The numbers are hard to comprehend. These tiny villages are squeezed by an estimated 4 million visitors a year, with most of them packed into a space of just 1 square kilometer. Even before this, the area was seeing 2.5 million tourists annually. Local mayors have described the situation as pure “chaos.” Fabrizia Pecunia, the mayor of Riomaggiore and Manarola, has been pushing for an “overcrowding alert” system. The idea is to collaborate with the train company to prevent any more passengers from getting off when the villages reach their capacity. The sentiment is shared by many. The strain on this fragile region has become so intense that authorities have been forced to implement some unusual and strict rules to survive.
For instance, if you plan to hike the beautiful trails in the national park, it’s best to wear the right shoes. Tourists caught hiking in flip-flops or open-toed sandals can face a fine of up to €2,500 (approximately $2,800). This rule was introduced after rescue services were frequently called to assist hikers who were ill-equipped and had injured themselves on the rugged paths. To address the human gridlock on the trails, some of the most popular routes, such as the path from Monterosso to Vernazza, are now designated as one-way during peak hours.
A considerable part of the problem is the massive influx of cruise ship passengers. Over 700,000 are expected in a single year, and they all tend to descend on the tiny villages at the same time, creating predictable and overwhelming bottlenecks. The struggle in Cinque Terre highlights a critical failure in managing tourism. These problems aren’t new; discussions of capping visitors at 1.5 million per year date back as far as 2016, but the plan never materialized. The current rules, like the footwear fine and one-way trails, are reactive. They treat the symptoms—such as dangerous hiking and trail congestion—instead of addressing the root cause, which is the sheer number of people.
The push from local mayors for hard capacity limits on trains shows a desire for a more proactive solution. Still, they’re meeting resistance from regional authorities and transport companies, who likely see things from a revenue perspective. This creates a frustrating governance gap, where those on the ground dealing with daily chaos are powerless to implement the long-term solutions that are desperately needed.
Boracay, Philippines: The Paradise That Had to Be Shut Down
Of all the places on this list, Boracay is the most dramatic example of a destination that has hit rock bottom. In 2018, the situation on this tiny, 2.5-mile-long island had become an environmental catastrophe. With raw sewage being pumped directly into the ocean, the then-President of the Philippines, Rodrigo Duterte, famously declared the island a “cesspool“ and ordered a complete six-month closure to all tourists. Before this drastic shutdown, the numbers were out of control. The island, with a local population of approximately 17,000, welcomes nearly 2 million visitors each year. That’s a mind-boggling ratio of 66 tourists for every single resident.
The rehabilitation was a massive and painful undertaking. The six-month closure cost the Philippine economy over $1 billion in lost tourism revenue. During that time, authorities demolished hundreds of illegally constructed structures, many of which were built too close to the shoreline or lacked proper sewage connections. When the island finally reopened, it was with a new, strict set of rules. A carrying capacity was established, limiting the number of tourists to just 19,215 at any given time. The wild beachfront parties were banned, as were single-use plastics, and even sandcastle-making became a regulated activity.
For the local businesses that survived the shutdown, the post-rehabilitation era has brought benefits in the form of improved infrastructure and a new focus on sustainability. In 2024, Boracay Water allocated P240 million for further service improvements, demonstrating a continued commitment to the island’s health. But the pressure is building again. The island’s 2024 tourist target was 2.1 million, and although they fell just short of that, the numbers are undeniably creeping back up.
Boracay’s story serves as a crucial lesson in managing overtourism. While most destinations try to solve their problems with small, incremental regulations, Boracay opted for the “hard reset“—a complete and economically devastating shutdown. This painful move enabled authorities to address deep, systemic issues, such as illegal construction and inadequate sewage systems, problems that small changes could never have resolved. The economic cost was immense, with an estimated $1 billion in losses and 30,000 jobs affected. However, it compelled a fundamental reevaluation of the island’s entire tourism model, shifting the focus from unchecked growth to managed, sustainable capacity. It stands as the ultimate—and perhaps most effective—example of a “tough love” approach to saving a place from itself.
Banff, Canada: Where Wildlife Pays the Price for Popularity
Banff is Canada’s crown jewel, and its crown is crushing it. As the country’s most popular national park, it attracts approximately 4.3 million visitors annually, representing a 31% increase in just the last decade. The traffic is relentless; in 2024, a record 6.7 million vehicles passed through the two entrances of the town of Banff. For the roughly 8,000 residents who call the town home, life has become a daily struggle against the tourist tide. They talk about being “overrun” and feeling like their mountain home has turned into a “mini Vegas.” One former resident described how a simple trip for groceries, a drive that should take 10 minutes, can stretch into a two-hour ordeal during the summer traffic jams.
But the real victims of Banff’s overwhelming popularity are the animals. The environmental cost is staggering and heartbreaking. According to The Starfish Canada, in 2023 alone, there were 2,547 documented human-wildlife conflicts in the park. That’s a shocking 72% increase from just five years earlier. The constant stream of traffic on roads like Lake Louise Drive—where a car passes every 5 seconds on a busy summer day—fragments critical wildlife corridors. This makes it incredibly difficult for sensitive species, such as grizzly bears, wolves, and lynx, to move freely through their habitat in search of food and mates. The constant noise, litter, and people wandering off designated trails degrade the environment, leading to animals becoming habituated to humans. Tragically, this often ends with the animals being euthanized for public safety.
Parks Canada is scrambling to find solutions. They’ve stopped all marketing for summer tourism, trying instead to push visitors to the quieter shoulder seasons. Access to the iconic Moraine Lake has been closed to personal vehicles; now, visitors can only reach it by using shuttles or public transit. And they are currently developing new visitor management plans that could include capacity limits for hotspots like Lake Louise, which can see between 10,000 and 12,000 visitors on a single summer day. The situation in Banff reveals a painful paradox about our relationship with nature. People flock to the park to connect with a pristine, wild environment. Yet, the sheer volume of people seeking that experience is what ultimately destroys it.
The very infrastructure built to support tourism—the roads, the parking lots, the shuttle buses—carves up and tames the wilderness everyone came to see. The result is an illusion of wildness. What visitors often experience is a highly managed, congested, and curated version of nature that feels more like a theme park with a mountain backdrop, a sentiment echoed by frustrated residents. It’s a stark reminder that the more we try to make the wilderness accessible, the less wild it becomes.
Fujikawaguchiko, Japan: The Instagram Shot That Broke a Town
Sometimes, it’s not an entire town or park that becomes the problem. Sometimes, it’s just one single photo. The small, quiet town of Fujikawaguchiko was suddenly thrust onto the global stage because of a particular image that went viral on social media: a shot of the majestic Mount Fuji appearing to sit perfectly atop a local Lawson convenience store. This spot, quickly dubbed “Mt. Fuji Lawson,” was swarmed by an army of tourists, mainly from overseas, who created absolute chaos in their quest for the perfect photo opportunity.
They trespassed on private property, with some even climbing onto the roof of a nearby dental clinic to get a better angle. They left piles of litter, blatantly ignored traffic rules, and dangerously blocked the busy road, all for a photo. The situation grew so hostile that residents reported being verbally insulted and even having lit cigarettes thrown at them when they politely asked tourists to move their cars. After trying everything—from putting up signs to hiring security guards—the town finally resorted to a drastic and unprecedented solution. In May 2024, workers erected a massive 20-meter-long, 2.5-meter-high black mesh screen to block the view completely. A town official described the move as “regrettable” but admitted it was a “last resort.”
Adding to the frustration is the fact that the town sees almost no economic benefit from this influx of tourists. The visitors are not there for Fujikawaguchiko; they are there for the photo. They typically arrive, get their shot, and leave, often heading back to Tokyo on the same day without spending money in local shops or restaurants. Fujikawaguchiko’s plight is a textbook case of a new and troubling trend: the micro-targeting of social media overtourism.
The attraction here isn’t the town itself, or even the general beauty of Mount Fuji. It’s one single, particular, and easily reproducible photo composition. This creates the worst possible scenario: maximum disruption concentrated in a single spot—a small sidewalk and intersection—with virtually no economic benefit spreading to the broader community. This isn’t about loving a place to death; it’s about loving a single image of a place to the point of obsession, turning a living community into a disposable backdrop for digital content.
Zion, USA: Loved Into Gridlock
Zion National Park’s breathtaking beauty has made it a victim of its success. Its popularity has absolutely exploded in recent years. In 2024, it was officially the second-most visited national park in the entire United States, with nearly 5 million visitors passing through its gates. To put that in perspective, that’s a massive increase from just 2.6 million visitors a decade ago. For many who make the trip, the experience is defined by one thing: queues. Visitors often face hours-long waits just to board the mandatory park shuttles that are the only way to access the main canyon for most of the year. Once on the trails, the crowds can be overwhelming. The park is struggling to cope with this influx of people, a problem exacerbated by a reduction in park staff, which results in fewer rangers on the ground and even longer wait times for services.
The situation on the famous Angels Landing trail had become so dangerously congested that in 2022, the park took a significant step by implementing a pilot permit program based on a lottery system. This was a direct response to widespread visitor concerns about safety and extreme crowding on the trail’s narrow, chained final section. While the main canyon can feel like an “amusement park” to some, seasoned visitors have learned the secrets to finding a slice of peace. The key is to avoid peak times: arrive very early in the morning, stay late in the afternoon, visit during the off-season, or explore the park’s lesser-known but equally stunning areas, such as the Kolob Canyons or the East Rim.
Zion’s predicament illustrates what can be called the “funnel effect.” The park’s unique geography naturally funnels the vast majority of visitors into one very narrow main canyon, which is accessed by a single road.
Machu Picchu, Peru: A Wonder of the World on a Tight Leash
As one of the New Seven Wonders of the World, Machu Picchu faces a unique and terrifying dilemma: it is at risk of being physically destroyed by the very people who come to admire it. This ancient Inca citadel, a designated UNESCO World Heritage site, is literally sinking by 2 to 3 centimeters every year under the immense pressure of thousands of daily visitors’ footsteps. The constant foot traffic, combined with the natural effects of rain and landslides, is causing irreversible erosion and degradation to the sacred ruins. To slow down this destruction, Peruvian authorities have implemented some of the strictest visitor controls found anywhere in the world. Daily visitor numbers are now strictly capped at 5,600 during the peak season and 4,500 in the low season.
A visit is no longer a leisurely exploration. Access is limited to specific time slots, with most tickets allowing for a stay of only 2.5 to 4 hours. Gone are the days of wandering freely. Visitors are now required to follow one of several strictly designated, one-way circuits through the site. You cannot deviate from your assigned path. The result, as some tourists have described it, is a “herd-like” experience, where you are constantly being guided and moved along by park staff, with little room for personal discovery. The list of rules is long and exhaustive. No large bags, no selfie sticks, no drones, no umbrellas, no jumping, and no causing a disturbance. A guide must accompany you on your first visit. Anyone who violates these rules faces heavy fines or immediate expulsion from the site.
The situation at Machu Picchu highlights a phenomenon that could be termed the “museumification” of a landmark. Faced with the existential threat of physical destruction from tourism, the authorities have responded by transforming the visitor experience from one of adventure and exploration into one of highly controlled observation, much like a visit to a museum. The strict one-way circuits, timed entry slots, and constant supervision are akin to walking through carefully curated museum galleries. You follow a predetermined path, view the “exhibits,” and are ushered out within your allotted time. This approach undoubtedly helps in preserving the physical integrity of the site, but it comes at the cost of the sense of wonder and personal connection that once defined a trip to this sacred place. It may be the future for many of the world’s most precious heritage sites.
Santorini, Greece: Drowning in Day-Trippers
The stunning white-and-blue island of Santorini is the perfect case study for the cruise ship problem. The numbers are staggering. In 2023, the island was visited by 800 cruise ships, which disembarked a total of 1.3 million passengers. On the busiest days, the island’s population of just 15,000 residents can be overwhelmed by as many as 18,000 cruise passengers flooding its narrow streets. However, here’s the surprising part of the story: despite these massive crowds, many local businesses are struggling to stay afloat. This is the economic trap of cruise tourism. The day-trippers contribute very little to the local economy. They flood the streets, strain the island’s limited infrastructure, like water and waste management, and create congestion. But then, they return to their ships for dinner and to sleep, leaving the local restaurants and hotels empty and struggling.
After years of complaints, the Greek government is finally taking decisive action. Starting in 2025, they enforced a daily limit of 8,000 cruise passengers allowed to disembark on the island. Additionally, a new €20 fee will be introduced for each cruise passenger during the peak season. The revenue generated from this fee is intended to be used for infrastructure upgrades and to fund sustainable tourism projects.
The local perspective offers a nuanced view. Antonis Pagonis, the president of the Santorini Hoteliers Association, argues that the core issue isn’t necessarily “overtourism” but “overcrowding,” which he blames on a lack of proper infrastructure and poor organization of cruise ship arrivals. His proposed solution is not to ban the ships, but to require them to stay in port for longer, giving passengers more time to explore the island and, essentially, spend more money in local establishments.
Santorini’s struggle reveals a fascinating conflict, not just between tourists and locals, but between two competing models of tourism. High-volume, low-value cruise tourism is effectively “cannibalizing” the more sustainable, high-value overnight tourism. The congestion, environmental strain, and negative image created by the daily influx of cruise passengers are driving away the very visitors who would otherwise stay in hotels, eat at local restaurants, and contribute meaningfully to the island’s economy. This is a stark lesson that measuring tourism success by raw visitor numbers can be dangerously misleading.
Yosemite, USA: A National Treasure in Chaos
Yosemite National Park is another American icon that is being “loved to death.” In 2024, the park welcomed over 4.2 million visitors, a number that has led to what are described as “amusement-park-style lines” and traffic gridlock so severe that it can block access for emergency vehicles. The park’s primary strategy in combating overcrowding has been a seasonal reservation system, which was first introduced in 2020 to regulate visitor traffic. When the system was temporarily paused in 2023, the chaos immediately returned, serving as a clear demonstration of its effectiveness.
However, the effort to make this reservation system a permanent fixture has turned into a fierce political battle. In early 2025, the Trump administration put a hold on the park’s plan to codify the system. This move came after intense pressure from a local congressman, who argued that limiting visitor numbers was “damaging to the economies in all of the gateway communities” that rely on tourism revenue.
Compounding this problem is a severe staffing crisis. A federal hiring freeze and significant budget cuts have left Yosemite critically understaffed, with fewer rangers to manage crowds, protect resources, and provide visitor services. A former park superintendent described the looming staffing situation as “catastrophic,” warning that the park might be forced to close entire areas if it can’t handle the visitor numbers. An anonymous Yosemite employee painted a grim picture, stating that the remaining staff were being “told to be prepared for chaos.”
The environmental toll of this situation is immense. The park is suffering from trampled vegetation, overflowing trash cans that attract wildlife and put them in danger, and constant noise pollution that shatters the natural soundscape. A 2015 waste audit revealed that Yosemite was sending nearly 700 tons of organic waste to the local landfill annually.
Dubrovnik, Croatia: The ‘Game of Thrones’ Effect
Dubrovnik’s stunning medieval walls and historic charm have always made it a popular destination. But its fame exploded into a different stratosphere after it was chosen as the primary filming location for King’s Landing in the global megahit, Game of Thrones. This newfound celebrity brought a massive influx of tourists, but it came at a devastating cost to the local community. The population of the historic Old Town, the heart of the city, has plummeted. It has fallen from 5,000 residents in 1991 to just over 1,000 today. Locals have been priced out and displaced by a surge of short-term Airbnb-style rentals and skyrocketing property values.
In 2016, the city was hit by nearly 800,000 cruise passengers who arrived on 529 ships. This created an almost unbelievable tourist-to-resident ratio of 27 to 1 in the Old Town. However, unlike some other destinations that have been slow to react, Dubrovnik has been remarkably proactive in its response. According to The Independent, the city took the bold step of limiting cruise ship arrivals to just two per day, with a combined maximum of 5,000 passengers. They also launched the “Respect the City” initiative, a comprehensive, multi-pronged strategy designed to manage tourism more sustainably. A key component of this initiative is the use of technology. The city has installed a system of real-time cameras to monitor the number of people entering the city gates. This allows them to enforce a strict capacity limit, ensuring that no more than 8,000 people are inside the historic Old Town at any one time.
Despite these impressive efforts, significant challenges remain. Issues such as traffic congestion and the ongoing housing pressure on locals remain substantial concerns. Dubrovnik has become a global model for managing overtourism, but the battle to preserve the city’s soul is far from over.
Key Takeaway
From the majestic Austrian Alps to the sun-drenched coast of the Philippines, a familiar, troubling story emerges. The very things that make these places so special—their stunning natural beauty, their rich history, and their unique culture—are being threatened by our collective, overwhelming desire to experience them. We’ve seen the precise and repeating patterns of this global crisis.
The COVID-19 pandemic provided these places with a brief, quiet moment to breathe, a chance to reassess their approach to tourism. But with global travel now roaring back to and beyond pre-pandemic levels, the pressure is on once again.
The challenge for us isn’t to stop traveling. It’s to travel better, smarter, and more consciously. As we scroll through Instagram and plan our next “perfect escape,” the question we all need to start asking ourselves is a simple but vital one: Are we part of the problem, or are we part of the solution?
Disclaimer – This list is solely the author’s opinion based on research and publicly available information. It is not intended to be professional advice.
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