Italy now has more museum visitors than its has residents
Italy's top cultural sites drew more than 60 million paying visitors in 2024, surpassing the country's population for the first time.
The ancient Colosseum in Rome was the most visited attraction, with 14.7 million ticket holders, followed by the Uffizi Gallery in Florence with 5.3 million and the archaeological site of Pompeii with 4.3 million.
Tourists from Italy and abroad contributed more than €382 million ($424 million) in revenue to the Italian state, with the Colosseum alone bringing in over €100 million. Italy has about 59 million residents and is home to more than 400 state-run museums.
The number of visitors rose by 2 million compared to the previous year, while revenue increased by €68 million, partly due to higher ticket prices.
Not included in the figures are the Vatican Museums — home to the Sistine Chapel, where Pope Leo XIV was recently elected — which belong to the independent Vatican City. With more than 6 million annual visitors, the Vatican Museums would rank second if counted among Italy's attractions.
The Vatican is expected to have one of its busiest years in tourism, and even ahead of the recent death of pope Francis and the election of Pope Leo XIV, the city had expected some 32 million pilgrims to come to the city for the holy year of 2025.
The museum figures come as Italy is among European countries trying to crack down on mass tourism, notably with entry fees for day-trippers to Venice.
Meanwhile the buried city of Pompeii, which had been attracting some 36,000 visitors on busy days, last year introduced a limit of 20,000. Tourists still flock to the attraction - one of Italy's most popular - in hordes to see the archaeological park and learn about the victims of the Vesuvius eruption.
Greece, Spain, Holland, the Czech Republic and othe parts of Europe popular among tourists have been announcing a spate of new rules designed to limit the negative aspects of so-called overtourism.
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National Geographic
5 hours ago
- National Geographic
Exploring myths, legends and island life at the edge of the Atlantic
This article was produced by National Geographic Traveller (UK). In the shallows of Lake Sørvágsvatn stands a horse. A brisk wind has sent ranks of tight little waves across the water and they slap at his flanks with monotonous persistence. Behind him, the hills are smothered by dark clouds, the weakest hint of sunlight struggling to break out beneath them. Perhaps in protest at the weather, the horse has reared up, forelegs raised, head pulled back. But all is not what it seems. Drawing closer, ambling down the pebble beach towards the shore, I find not the flesh and bones of a disgruntled stallion, but a jumble of rocks and earth packed within a steel, horse-shaped frame. A sign chiselled into a moss-flecked boulder tells me that this is the Nix — a creature that emerges on to land in search of victims to enchant. Should he trick you into touching him, he'll carry you off to the bottom of the lake, and there you shall stay forever. There is, however, a chance of salvation — if you're quick enough. 'With the Nix, if you say his name before you're in the water, he'll disappear,' Elin Hentze tells me, as we stand braced against a particularly vigorous gust. 'The spell is broken, he loses his force.' The Nix emerges on to land in search of victims to enchant. Should he trick you into touching him, he'll carry you off to the bottom of the lake, and there you shall stay forever. Photograph by Jonathan Stokes We're on Vágar, one of 18 islands that make up the Faroes, a self-governing region of Denmark that lies geographically closer to Iceland than the European continent — and in looks is closer to the fantasy lands of The Hobbit or Game of Thrones. It's a place where dark, towering cliffs rise out of the frothing Atlantic; where meadows sweep up and up to end at shard-like pinnacles of rock; and where waterfalls tumble sideways, caught on the wind. If ever folk tales were to take root then, it's here, in this mysterious archipelago at the far reaches of Europe. With Elin as my guide, I'm in the Faroes to unearth some of its stories, crisscrossing between islands in search of the giants, spirits and trolls that are said to dwell on them. Sørvágsvatn proves rich hunting ground. Leaving the Nix to its damp stake-out, we skirt the lake, passing little plots of land divided by dry-stone walls. Behind them, the Faroes' particularly straggly breed of sheep chew determinedly on the buttercups. Abandoning the car, we take a muddy path along the shoreline, hopping across shallow streams that bubble down from the surrounding slopes, and stopping to pick tiny blueberries that grow by the track. Elin — encased in waterproof hiking gear, long hair tucked beneath a bobble hat — tells me, 'Huldufolk are said to live in this area, under the rocks and in the grass. They come out to dance; there are many stories about men who are too curious about them and are taken.' The Faroes share the idea of huldufolk (hidden folk; nebulous creatures that are neither human nor elf) with Iceland. The tales likely came over with Norse settlers who arrived in both regions in the ninth century, and traded with wool, furs and fish over a millennium. The ocean that brought them here is soon revealed as the path climbs upwards, disappearing into dense fog, before we emerge at the top of the Trælanípan Cliff. The furious surf of the Atlantic thrashes against the rock 460ft below, grey-winged fulmars coming into land at barely perceptible ledges in the basalt. A dish of salt cod is served at Fiskastykkið restaurant on Vágar, one of 18 islands that make up the Faroes. Photograph by Jonathan Stokes The Faroe Islands are a place where dark, towering cliffs rise out of the frothing Atlantic; where meadows sweep up and up to end at shard-like pinnacles of rock; and where waterfalls tumble sideways, caught on the wind. Photograph by Jonathan Stokes Behind us, Lake Sørvágsvatn seems separated from the ocean by the slimmest sliver of land, creating an optical illusion that it floats above it. Absorbed by the spectacle in every direction, we watch as clouds churn and froth across the sky, creating shifting patterns of sunlight on the water, and the wind threatens to throw us to the waves. 'Long ago, so many people were lost at sea and in nature in the Faroes,' Elin says. 'Perhaps that's why they needed to believe in myths — you feel that there's a force bigger than you here and you need some explanation for it.' Proving the adage that truth is often stranger than fiction, however, she tells of the Viking-owned slaves who were thrown to their deaths at Trælanípan when they were too old or sick to be useful, and of a woman who hiked here with her husband more recently, and was never seen again. The seal woman & the spy Humans are thought to have lived on the Faroe Islands for well over two millennia. It's only in recent years that they've begun to tame them. Where tiny settlements of turf-roofed houses were once only accessible by boat or by a long, treacherous yomp over wild landscapes, tunnels now burrow under the sea and carve through mountains to connect them. One — the 6.8-mile Eysturoy Tunnel — even has a roundabout in it, 620ft beneath the waves. The following morning, I zip between islands through these underwater passageways on the drive north. Before leaving Vágar, I stop at Trøllkonufingur, a column of basalt as tall as the Eiffel Tower. Legend has it that Iceland sent a troll witch to steal the Faroes — but, before she had a chance to get to work, she was turned to stone by the rising sun and sank beneath the sea, with just a single finger remaining above the water, pointing upwards. Ignoring her directions, I head downwards, taking tunnels for as long as I can before they run out — four island-hops later — at the town of Klaksvík on Borðoy. Here, the ferry takes over. A light drizzle falls as the vessel creaks out of the harbour and steers north east through the mist to Kalsoy. Passengers greet one another as old friends, sitting at formica-topped tables to chat over cups of coffee. 'The ferry was always the meeting place for everyone — you miss that when it's gone,' Elin tells me with a shrug when I ask if locals feel more connected now it's so easy to travel between islands. 'In the old days, when people came to a place, they stayed for a week. Now there are roads and tunnels, they just pass through.' In the island of Kalsoy, this hard-to-reach patch of land formed the backdrop of the final moments of the James Bond film, No Time To Die. Photograph by Jonathan Stokes Linked to its neighbours by a moderately infrequent ferry service, the pencil-shaped island of Kalsoy retains that out-of-time feel. A single road runs north to south, and sheep and geese are the most conspicuous users of it. We take it to its furthest point, swooping down the mountains in a series of hairpin bends to end at Trøllanes. 'It means Troll Peninsula,' Elin says as we stroll past the village's stone houses, home to just 13 residents. 'It's said it was visited every 12th night by trolls who lived in the surrounding mountains, and the villagers would run away as they drank and partied.' Their torment ended one night when an old woman who was too weak to run called out for Christ in fear — the trolls left and never came back. Sat in the bowl of a valley, with mountains looming on all sides and giant boulders littered across the slopes, Trøllanes is fertile ground for a tall tale — I'm almost convinced an unseen menace waits and watches above the village, ready to rush in under cover of nightfall. 'It can be so impressive and overwhelming here, particularly in winter,' Elin says. 'It makes it easy to believe in dark stories.' We leave the vanquished trolls of Trøllanes to climb up and over a ridge north of the village, following a faint trail as it weaves through the hills and around patches of bog. After an hour, the land abruptly runs out and, it seems, we find ourselves at the very edge of the world — with nothing but wheeling sea birds and the dark, rolling ocean between us and the North Pole. Just visible to the east are two sea stacks: the remnants, it's said, of a witch and a giant who, like the troll witch, came to steal the islands and were turned to stone in the dawn light. The narrowest thread of a path tacks along the cliff edge in their direction, ending at a red-and-white stone lighthouse. It's a balancing act to follow it, with the wind primed to whip me off into oblivion at the slightest misstep. I wouldn't be the first to meet an unpleasant end here. A little beyond the lighthouse, up a slope that eventually spears skywards and requires some puff to tackle, lies a modest basalt headstone. 'In memory of James Bond,' it reads. '1962-2021.' Actor Daniel Craig might never have set foot on Kalsoy — filming his scenes on green screen instead — but this hard-to-reach patch of land formed the backdrop to the spy's final moments, courtesy of a missile strike, in No Time To Die. This very modern fable is the reason many visitors make their way to Kalsoy these days, but the island has a long association with another tale with a violent ending: the Kópakonan. Having paid my respects to 007, I meet her down on the shore in Mikladagur, a village south along the coast from Trøllanes. She stands 9ft tall with her back to the sea, has a distinctly blue pallor and is half-naked — with what look like skin and flippers draped over the rock beneath her. 'This is one of the best-known tales in the Faroe Islands,' Elin explains as we admire the bronze statue. She tells me that, once a year long ago, seals would come out of the water and shed their skins on the beach, taking human form for a night of revelry. During one of these gatherings, a villager stole a seal woman's skin and she was forced to stay with him and bear his children. She was eventually able to reclaim her skin and flee back to the sea, falling in love with a bull seal and raising pups. In a jealous rage, the man killed her family; consumed with grief, she set a curse on him and his progeny for all eternity. 'Still today, if a man from the village drowns or falls from the cliffs,' Elin says, 'it's blamed on the curse.' There are versions of the seal woman's story across the North Atlantic, from the Orkneys to Greenland — likely evidence that the tales were carried back and forth by fishermen and traders. But it has a particular resonance in the Faroes, where it's known by every local, and it holds special value in Mikladagur. Rumour has it that some villagers even have webbed hands. Up steep concrete stairs above the Kópakonan, Café Eðge has prime views of the statue and the seals that bob near it come autumn — the perfect setting to recount the haunting story. Actor, playwright and artist Eyð Matras did just that, performing her drama, The Seal Woman, at the cafe throughout the summer of 2021. "If a man from the village drowns or falls from the cliffs,' Elin says, 'it's blamed on the curse [of the seal woman].' Photograph by Jonathan Stokes James Bond's burial site is just beyond the working lighthouse on Kalsoy. Photograph by Jonathan Stokes Catching the last ferry back to Klaksvík, I call in on her at her home, a handsome wooden house overlooking the harbour, built by her grandfather in 1899. With her little dog Vanya snuffling at our feet, the candles lit and a spread of local breads and cheeses on the table, we sit down to chat. 'When we tell oral stories like the seal woman, it's first for entertainment — it's for gathering around the fireplace, keeping the darkness of the night at bay,' Eyð explains, pouring the coffee. 'But it's to protect people, too. It's to keep people away from the sea and off the cliff edge. It's a warning.' She fetches some of the costume pieces she wore for The Seal Woman, including a woollen cape with dark threads coming out of it like seaweed and red shoes to represent blood. Her modern adaptation is a monologue set to music, and she recites some lines for me, her voice rising and falling in a steady, captivating rhythm. 'I think, nowadays, we see Kópakonan as a political story about women, self-realisation and having ownership over your own life,' she says, finishing her performance to my enthusiastic applause. 'But it's also about the wildness in her and in nature. That's not only for women but everyone — we should listen to the wildness inside ourselves. We come from it.' The artist & the farmer The Faroese appear particularly well-attuned to listening to the wildness within, and expressing that wildness through every medium possible; storytelling, it seems, is in their blood. The following morning, I make my way through the streets of Tórshavn to join another artist adding a new layer to the islands' timeworn tales. The quaint capital of the Faroe Islands, Tórshavn is a pretty muddle of black-tarred wooden buildings, some with turf roofs, and quiet harbour. Photograph by Jonathan Stokes - - The capital's old town is quiet, with just the odd dog-walker out and about on its cobbled alleys. It's a pretty muddle of black-tarred wooden buildings, some with turf roofs, most with candlesticks in the windows. The Faroese government still has its parliament here, on a peninsula jutting out into the Atlantic, as it has for 1,200 years. On a whitewashed wall curving around a winding lane sweeps a giant mural — of flying squid, tusk fish, whelks and a bounty of other sea creatures found off the islands' coast. I meet the man responsible for it, Heiðrikur á Heygum (or simply Heiðrik), in a cafe overlooking the boat masts of Tórshavn's harbour. Dressed in black, with delicate tattoos of native flora running up his arms, Heiðrik opens a portfolio case to reveal page after page of watercolours — there's a sinister elfin figure perched on a rock in the moonlight; a lone horse with a serpent's tail and glowing eyes standing in the water; a long-haired man with a tall crown and peevish expression sitting on a throne. They're all part of the artist's latest project — an illustrated book of the Faroes Islands' myths and folklore. 'Writing down the stories is new,' Heiðrik says, leafing through the work. 'Traditionally, they were shared through song, and an oral story is like Chinese whispers — it changes every time you tell it. I'm just another reteller, the latest link in the chain.' Heiðrikur á Heygum's latest project — an illustrated book of the Faroes Islands' myths and folklore, is set to be published at the end of the year, with versions in Faroese, Danish and English to bring the tales to a new audience. Photograph by Jonathan Stokes The plan is to publish the collection at the end of the year, with versions in Faroese, Danish and English bringing the tales to a new audience. Until then, visitors must make do with reading the stories in the landscapes that inspired them. 'Anywhere there's nature and the sea,' says Heiðrik, carefully putting away the pages, 'that's where you'll find legends in the Faroe Islands.' I spend my last evening discovering that the tradition of oral story-telling Heiðrik is magicking into print is still very much in rude health. The sun is just starting to set when Anna and Óli Rubeksen invite me into their home in the tiny village of Velbastaður, 15 minutes' drive from Tórshavn. Enormous picture windows line one side of the farmhouse, opening to views of grassland tumbling down to the pearly waters of Hestfjord and, beyond, to the tiny island of Hestur (population 15). 'Come, sit,' says Óli, gesturing to a long table, 'and I'll tell you our story.' Ninth-generation sheep farmers, the Rubeksens have been running supper clubs here since 2014, opening their house to up to 30 guests at a time. 'We try to be like a cultural exchange,' says Óli as sheep dog Mia leaps on to his lap. 'The magic for us is when everyone interacts with each other.' Named for heimablídni, a Faroese tradition of 'home hospitality', the dinners are a crash course in local ingredients and cooking, with dish after dish appearing on the table over the course of several hours: rye bread with salted mutton; carrot and vegetable soup; roast lamb with caramelised potatoes and red cabbage. With candles lit against the gathering gloom, conversation flows, leaping from the Norse language to rhubarb, sheepdog-training to Viking hygiene. Our attention is continually pulled towards the window, even when there's nothing to see but our own reflections staring back at us. 'You can understand in the old days when there was no electricity,' says Anna, peering out, 'you would sit and imagine so many things out there.' For now, feasting and company have tamed the Faroe Islands. But soon I must take my leave and head back out into the night, and everything looks different in the dark. Getting there & around Atlantic Airways flies direct from Gatwick to Vágar twice weekly from the end of May to the end of August; and from Edinburgh twice weekly from March to December. The rest of the year, fly via Copenhagen with Atlantic Airways or SAS. Average flight time: 2hr10m (Gatwick); 1hr35m (Edinburgh) A hire car is your best bet for travelling around the islands, and there are rental desks at the airport. It's a 45-minute drive from there to the capital Tórshavn. When to go June, July and August see the warmest temperatures (around 13C) and longest hours of daylight (up to 20 hours), but also the most visitors; locations with few facilities can get booked up fast. September is a good choice, with temperatures around 12C and 13 hours of daylight. The weather is changeable year-round, with rain and mist a possibility any time. While temperatures are fairly mild in winter (about 7C), many hotels shut for the season. Puffins arrive to nest in April, and usually stay until the end of August. Where to stay Hotel Vágar, Vágar island. From DKK800 (£90). Hotel Føroyar, Tórshavn. From DKK840 (£95). More info How to do it: Nordic travel specialist Where the Wild Is offers several itineraries. The eight-night Classic Circle Self-Drive covers multiple islands and includes visits to Lake Sørvágsvatn and Kalsoy; from £1,700, including hotels and car hire, excluding flights. The four-night Summer Puffin Adventure takes in Tórshavn and the puffin-nesting island of Mykines, from £1,250. This story was created with the support of Visit Faroe Islands. Published in the June 2025 issue of National Geographic Traveller (UK). To subscribe to National Geographic Traveller (UK) magazine click here. (Available in select countries only).
Yahoo
10 hours ago
- Yahoo
The Post-America Moms Club Helping Families Start Over in Europe
When you buy through links on our articles, Future and its syndication partners may earn a commission. One wrong turn in Mallorca, and Suset Laboy was texting 70 other mothers for help. She was driving her four-year-old twin daughter to school earlier this year when she swerved to avoid a serious crash, but still got rear-ended. She was fine. Her daughter was fine. But her heart was racing, and she had no idea what to do next in a country with rules she didn't fully understand. Back in Brooklyn, where she'd lived for 14 years before moving abroad, she would've known exactly how to handle it. In Spain, she opened WhatsApp. The thread she turned to wasn't just any group chat—it was Mother Euro, a growing community and relocation service founded by two American moms to support women who've left the U.S. behind in search of something better. Part concierge, part lifeline, Mother Euro connects moms with everything from visa lawyers to pediatricians to the best iced coffee in town. The network currently includes 80 members, and while most are based in Spain, the U.K. is their second-largest hub, with plans to expand across other European markets. 'I didn't feel comfortable living in the U.S. anymore,' says Alice Kim, an American citizen and Mother Euro member who moved from California back to her birthplace, Seoul, before settling in Barcelona with her husband and two-year-old son. 'I was worried about the political climate. My friends raising their kids there would talk about gun violence and how the kids would have to prepare for breathing without their chest moving. Our American dream really got shattered.' Kim isn't alone. A growing number of Americans are considering or actively planning to relocate to Europe, driven by concerns over political and social issues, including racial equity and LGBTQ+ rights. Relocation firms have reported increased inquiries, citing political polarization, threats to personal rights, and safety concerns. Applications for British citizenship by Americans have reached record highs. The day after Trump's second election, Google searches for how to leave the U.S. spiked by over 1,500 percent. Even celebrities have made exit plans: Rosie O'Donnell moved to Ireland in March. Ellen DeGeneres reportedly relocated to the U.K. last fall, as did Courtney Love. We're not just a relocation service. We're a village. We want to build each other up. For mothers in particular, the push factors are hard to ignore. The U.S. has the highest maternal mortality rate among developed countries, and since the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade in 2022, access to life-saving care can depend on your zip code. Meanwhile, child care costs have soared—averaging $11,582 annually, according to Child Care Aware of America—and in many places, the cost of caring for two children now exceeds the cost of housing. So last fall two American moms, Emily San Jose, 34, and Maggie Gavilán, 32, launched Mother Euro, a membership-based community designed to help women navigate the move abroad and build a life once they're there. Aspiring members pay $1,500 a year for full relocation support, while Resident members who are already living abroad pay $500 annually to join a network of local moms and access the group's resources, meetups, and ongoing assistance. It's part WhatsApp hive mind, part on-the-ground network for everything from kids' weird rashes to the best local cafés to hit with toddlers in tow. It's also where a member can seek advice when, say, she's rear-ended in a new country and not sure how insurance works in Spain. 'We're not just a relocation service. We're a village,' says Gavilán. 'We want to build each other up. A traditional relocation specialist is going to be, you know, the guy that your dad's company set you up with. He's gonna show you, you know, the best moving company. And we have all those things, but we bring in the emotional factor that we know is so important as women and as moms.' In addition to real estate agents and top-notch immigration lawyers, Mother Euro connects members with nutritionists, multilingual therapists, and barre studios. When I mention someone who moved to Spain to access IVF, which is significantly cheaper there than in the U.S., Gavilán jumps in: 'Do we have a partner for IVF? Not yet. But if you need one tomorrow? We'll find them.' Most moms hear about Mother Euro through San Jose, the Madrid-based cofounder better known as @MamaInMadrid. The Oregon native moved to Spain immediately after college, with a plan to stay for a year, make money as an au pair, and travel in her free time. One month later, she met her Spanish husband. They eventually moved back to the Pacific Northwest for five years, but returned to Spain in 2021 to be closer to family. Online, San Jose is poised, mixing aspirational ease with dry humor in near-perfect Castilian Spanish. Take, for example, the blackout in Spain and Portugal in April. In a post about it on Instagram, San Jose tells the camera she was in the gym when it happened—aspirational!—and says, 'I went into flight or fight mode. My husband says that that is a very American reaction, to sort of catastrophize things. Fine with me if that's going to be my reaction in this situation.' Relatable! Among 30-something U.S. expats, San Jose is a bit of a celebrity. Proof: When I told a Spanish acquaintance that I was interviewing American moms in Madrid, she squeed, 'Do you know MamaInMadrid?!' Further proof: Gavilán, Mother Euro's cofounder, DMed San Jose last year when she was considering moving to Madrid, too. She has dual citizenship and wanted to be closer to her family. 'I saw this really pretty blonde girl living in Spain, speaking fluent Spanish, and I was like, maybe she'll be my friend,' she says. They met for drinks the next time Gavilán visited, shut down the bar, and took a few blurry two a.m. selfies. Gavilán got pregnant soon after, and started seriously planning her family's relocation. 'Raising children and even just being a pregnant woman in the States, transparently, felt really scary,' she says. 'So I wanted to give my kids and myself, selfishly—and I can be selfish—a better life.' Of course, moving to Europe isn't always as romantic as it sounds. There are visas to secure, cultural nuances to decode, and costs to consider. (Gavilán estimates relocation costs around $15,000, though it varies widely.) As she navigated her own move, friends and strangers began reaching out for advice. 'I'm telling you, I was on the phone until two a.m. sometimes trying to help moms with finding the right attorney or with the right education consultant because they didn't understand the nuances between the US and EU system and how that would work, which, I didn't either when I was figuring it out,' she says. That's when she realized there was a real need for a service that could guide women through it—not just logistically, but emotionally. 'People want to do this,' she says. 'But they want to feel as though they're in community with somebody doing it, either at the same time, or who has already done it—and also somebody who they want to hang out with.' Raising children and even just being a pregnant woman in the States, transparently, felt really scary. Though most of the Mother Euro action happens online, the group hosted its first IRL event in April: a dinner party in Madrid to celebrate the official launch. Thirty women flew in from Costa Brava, Mallorca, and London.'There were so many badass women there,' says Kim, who traveled from Barcelona to attend. During an icebreaker, members were first instructed to 'step in' if they were born in the U.S. For the second prompt, they were asked to take a step in if they were a business owner. 'I think three-fourths of the room stepped in,' she says. 'After that I was like, I'm going to have to step up my game.' She sat next to Heather, an American mom who's lived in Europe for 17 years, and peppered her with questions about schooling. Heather insisted on local schools over international ones. 'Now I'm leaning local too,' Kim says. 'Because more and more I feel like I don't want my son to go to a U.S. college after living all his adolescence in Europe. It would feel like a back step.' Mother Euro is expensive, on top of all the other costs that go into moving your life somewhere else, and it's not not luxury service. But it's one that 200-plus women are willing to pay; that's how many applicants Gavilán says they've been receiving per month. One aspiring member, who is planning a move to Madrid after her second child is born, says her membership has already been worth it. She explained that it was especially helpful for navigating Spain's Beckham Law, which allows foreign workers to pay significantly less in income tax than Spanish citizens, and far less than they would in the U.S. Still, upending your life to relocate to Europe isn't a panacea, nor is it easy. Moving abroad is a privilege and a struggle—both things can be true. Even the founders are still figuring things out as they go along: Gavilán is currently weighing public versus private hospitals in Madrid for her C-section; Laboy misses the diversity of Brooklyn. But for Laboy, the hardest part has been leaving her sister and parents behind. 'It feels sad, and at the same time, it feels like the right choice for us at this very moment,' she says, tears forming. 'It's very important for me to recognize that this move is a privilege that not everybody has.' 'Still,' she adds, 'living here feels like an exhale.' This community really helps me mentally. Mother Euro affirms something mothers around the world have always known: When women are part of the conversation, everyone wins. '[Our launch dinner party] reminded us that mothers will travel near and far to be seen, supported, and celebrated by their communities,' Gavilán recapped over email after the event. 'Listening to everyone share their stories on why they moved, what they're seeking, and how they're building their lives abroad—it was a powerful affirmation of why we created this space.' It also proves that no matter where you are, whether you're figuring out tax residency or just daycare culture, motherhood still takes a village. Like when Kim's son came home from his Spanish daycare with a goodie bag. 'I was like, 'Wait, was there a birthday party I didn't know about? Am I missing something? Do I need to send a gift?'' So she hit up the Mother Euro chat, where San Jose explained that in Spain, the birthday kid gifts their friends—instead of the other way around. The same goes for adults: if you host the dinner, you pick up the check. 'This community really helps me mentally,' Kim says. She's since made a real-life friend in Barcelona through Mother Euro, and the two are going to an Imagine Dragons concert this summer. 'Making friends when you're older is harder, but within Mother Euro, we all have so many commonalities that it just helps us click. I'm confident that whoever is in it shares the same values.' And after arriving in Spain in February, she hasn't looked back.
Yahoo
13 hours ago
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Sunwing Vacations and WestJet Vacations Québec launch exclusive new sun destination from Montreal for winter 2025-2026: Managua, here we come!
Barceló Montelimar to deliver sun-soaked stays for families, couples and group getaways MONTREAL, June 5, 2025 /CNW/ - Sunwing Vacations Inc. and WestJet Vacations Québec are delighted to introduce Managua, Nicaragua as an exclusive sun destination for Quebecers this coming winter. Beginning December 18, 2025, travellers can escape the cold with convenient weekly nonstop service from Montreal (YUL) to Managua (MGA), operated on board WestJet every Thursday until April 9, 2026. This exciting new route offers Quebecers a unique opportunity to explore one of Central America's most captivating gems. Whether through Sunwing Vacations or WestJet Vacations Québec, customers can enjoy the same seamless vacation experience and reliable flight schedule on board WestJet's modern fleet—known for its caring crew, warm, friendly service and commitment to comfort. "We're proud to be expanding our sun offering with the launch of Managua, Nicaragua as an exclusive destination for the 2025-2026 winter season," said Lyne Chayer, Vice. President, Sunwing Vacations Group Québec. "This new route offers Québec travellers a unique blend of adventure, relaxation and cultural discovery, paired with reliable service on board WestJet and high-quality standards at Barceló Montelimar, now available to book through our all inclusive vacation brands." Customers can book Barceló Montelimar for the winter season through Sunwing Vacations and WestJet Vacations Québec. This expansive all-inclusive resort is set on lush grounds with direct beach access. Guests can choose from 293 types of accommodations, including standard rooms or spacious private bungalows, some with up to three bedrooms—ideal for families or small groups. Rooms come equipped with a range of bathroom amenities, along with a mini-bar, safe and Wi-Fi access. The resort features a buffet restaurant near the beach, three à la carte options featuring Italian, Asian, and seafood fare, and five bars spread throughout the property. Families and couples alike will enjoy Barceló Montelimar's wide range of on-site amenities such as three pools (including a dedicated children's area), a jacuzzi, kids' club, tennis and basketball courts, mini-golf, daily entertainment, a massage centre, boutique shops and much more. A shuttle service makes getting around the resort easy, and the quiet beachfront is perfect for long walks and unforgettable sunsets. With vacation packages available through both Sunwing Vacations and WestJet Vacations Québec, travellers can enjoy a seamless experience with the vacation provider of their choice while looking forward to a seamless onboard experience. Group bookings are now open. Start planning your unforgettable Managua vacation today with Sunwing Vacations and WestJet Vacations Québec. About Sunwing Vacations As the leading vacation provider in Canada, Sunwing Vacations offers more vacation packages to the south than any other vacation provider with convenient direct service from cities across Canada to popular sun destinations across the Caribbean, Mexico and Central America. This scale enables Sunwing Vacations to offer customers exclusive deals at top-rated resorts in the most popular vacation destinations. Sunwing Vacations customers benefit from the assistance of our trusted partner in destination, NexusTours, whose representatives greet customers upon arrival and support them throughout their vacation journey. For more information, please visit SOURCE Sunwing Vacations Inc. View original content to download multimedia:
