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NDTV
22-05-2025
- NDTV
6 Overcrowded Destinations To Skip In 2025 (And Where To Go Instead)
Travel is booming again in 2025, but that's not all good news. Some of the world's most iconic destinations are buckling under the pressure of overtourism — with long queues, overwhelmed locals, and fragile landmarks bearing the brunt. If your idea of a holiday doesn't involve shoulder-to-shoulder crowds or battling for a photo op, it might be time to rethink your bucket list. We've picked six overcrowded spots to avoid this year, along with less chaotic alternatives that offer just as much charm, culture, and scenery — minus the stress and sea of selfie sticks. Your sanity will thank you. Here Are 6 Overcrowded Destinations Around The World And Their Alternatives: 1. Venice, Italy The City of Canals has been dealing with overtourism for years, and it's only getting worse. In 2024, Venice introduced a minimal day-tripper fee during peak times — and it's still swamped. With over 20 million visitors annually (pre-pandemic numbers are back), locals are fed up, and you'll feel it. Alternate Destination: Trieste, just two hours away by train, offers waterfront charm, Austro-Hungarian architecture, and a far more relaxed pace. It's Venice without the elbow-jabbing gondola gridlock. 2. Machu Picchu, Peru Peru has announced new daily visitor caps for Machu Picchu (just 4,500 per day) and a stricter permit system. The site has suffered major wear from the hundreds of thousands who visit each year. In 2023, UNESCO even threatened to put it on the endangered list due to overcrowding. Alternate Destination: Choquequirao, dubbed the "sister city" of Machu Picchu, is similarly spectacular but sees a fraction of the foot traffic. It's a challenging trek to reach — which is exactly why it's still peaceful. 3. Bali, Indonesia Bali's tourism boom has spiralled into an environmental crisis. In 2023, the local government introduced new "tourist etiquette" rules after a string of incidents involving disrespectful behaviour. Beaches are crowded, traffic is a nightmare, and locals are pushing back hard. Alternate Destination: Lombok, Bali's quieter neighbour, has similar beaches and surfing without the Instagram-fuelled circus. Or check out Flores for untouched nature and the gateway to Komodo National Park. 4. Santorini, Greece The whitewashed buildings and caldera views may be stunning, but Santorini is bursting at the seams. With up to 10,000 cruise passengers per day during peak season, it's become more of a backdrop for social media than a Greek island experience. Alternate Destination: Head to Milos or Naxos. Both islands have charming villages, turquoise waters, and half the crowd. You might even score a table at a seafront taverna without booking weeks ahead. 5. Kyoto, Japan After Japan reopened in late 2022, tourism surged — and Kyoto bore the brunt. In 2024, Gion residents called for tourists to stop photographing geishas and even restricted access to certain streets. The city is overwhelmed, especially in cherry blossom and autumn leaf seasons. Alternate Destination: Check out Kanazawa, sometimes called "Little Kyoto". It's home to one of Japan's top three gardens, a preserved samurai district, and plenty of traditional charm — minus the crowd control signs. 6. Reykjavik, Iceland Iceland's tourism has grown over 400% in the last decade. Most travellers head straight for Reykjavik and the Golden Circle, leading to packed car parks, overwhelmed hot springs, and serious strain on fragile ecosystems. Alternate Destination: Venture to the Westfjords, one of Iceland's least visited regions. It's rugged, remote, and breathtaking - and you'll feel like you have it to yourself. Tourism should benefit both visitors and the places they visit. As travellers, it's on us to make mindful choices. So skip the overcrowded icons and seek out the next great (but still under-the-radar) spot - you'll have a better trip, and the planet will thank you for it.
Business Mayor
01-05-2025
- Business
- Business Mayor
Even gen Z are resorting to cash – and I'm clinging to my own handful of it
O pening my wallet, I'm down to my last five dollars. Dog-eared leftovers from a foreign holiday that I keep forgetting to take to the bank, they have somehow ended up being the only physical money I always carry, now there are so few places to use the British folding stuff. Our village pub was for years a cash-only enterprise, possibly as a means of deterring customers from outside the village (long, gloriously eccentric story), and I keep a few pound coins rattling around the car for shopping trolleys. But using actual money feels mildly eccentric in most places now, or even faintly shady: increasingly cafes and bars are adopting 'no cash' rules upfront to save the hassle of carting their takings to some faraway bank branch. Half of us have recently been somewhere that either didn't accept cash or positively discouraged it, according to a survey by the ATM network Link. But since most people long ago switched to tapping a card reader, what's the problem? Well, there's the fact that, as a House of Commons Treasury select committee report suggested this week, it's the most vulnerable who still depend on cash: older people either terrified of being scammed or struggling to get to grips with apps, people whose credit rating is too trashed to get a bank account, adults with learning disabilities who can more easily understand that when cash is gone it's really gone, and women squirrelling away 'running away money' their partners don't know about. (One of the most upsetting stories the MPs heard was from a woman whose abusive partner had withheld the electronic bill payment for the kids' school lunches: the school didn't let her pay in cash, the only way she had of getting around his control of their account.) Read More Internet Humor News - Trend Hunter And then there's the fact that, as Spain discovered during this week's massive power outage, cash may no longer be king but when the worst happens, it's still a critical spare to the heir. Sweden backtracked last year on plans to become a cashless society amid fears of becoming less resilient to saboteurs and hostile actors. Last but not least, meanwhile, is the faintly embarrassed 'am I mad to think this?' sense triggered by the speed of America's descent into dystopia, that having a source of money no ill-intentioned future government could track or summarily freeze for political reasons is an underappreciated safety net. Clinging on to cash is one of those strange issues uniting traditionalists suspicious of change – tellingly, Reform's 2024 manifesto promised to stop Britain becoming a cashless society – with conspiracy theorists convinced the global elite is after their assets, radicals of all stripes, small business owners sick of being charged by banks for card transactions and anti-poverty charities pointing out that cash is a lifeline for people on tight budgets. Even gen Z, in theory more open to digitalised lives, have taken to the TikTok and Instagram-fuelled cult of 'cash stuffing', or disciplining your spending by taking out a week's cash and sorting it into different envelopes for specific purposes. Once the envelope is empty, the spending stops. Thousands follow the big cash stuffers' faintly hypnotic videos of them counting out crisp tenners and stashing them neatly into pastel folders: like all those videos of influencers sorting their cereals into labelled glass jars, it speaks to a need for control, order and a sort of reassuring homeliness, reminiscent of your granny keeping the week's housekeeping in a biscuit tin. (Though, much like the biscuit tins, cash stuffing at home must be a boon for burglars.) As with the physical habit of reading newsprint, once confidently predicted to be dead by now, the longterm trajectory towards digital may be clear but letting go of something you can physically hold in your hand takes far longer than anyone thinks. Banks would love a cashless society, of course: the less physical currency swilling round the system, the easier it is for them to shut down all their branches and go wholly digital, forcing reluctant customers to phone a call centre or more likely message a chatbot if they need help. So much cheaper than maintaining an anchoring, human-employing presence on high streets where there's little else left but vape shops. But let's just say that the past few decades have not given me enormous confidence in the social worth of unquestioningly doing whatever banks want. Which is why I'll be hanging on, for the foreseeable future, to an increasingly pointless handful of cash.
The Guardian
01-05-2025
- Business
- The Guardian
Even gen Z are resorting to cash - and I'm clinging to my own handful of it
Opening my wallet, I'm down to my last five dollars. Dog-eared leftovers from a foreign holiday that I keep forgetting to take to the bank, they have somehow ended up being the only physical money I always carry, now there are so few places to use the British folding stuff. Our village pub was for years a cash-only enterprise, possibly as a means of deterring customers from outside the village (long, gloriously eccentric story), and I keep a few pound coins rattling around the car for shopping trolleys. But using actual money feels mildly eccentric in most places now, or even faintly shady: increasingly cafes and bars are adopting 'no cash' rules upfront to save the hassle of carting their takings to some faraway bank branch. Half of us have recently been somewhere that either didn't accept cash or positively discouraged it, according to a survey by the ATM network Link. But since most people long ago switched to tapping a card reader, what's the problem? Well, there's the fact that, as a House of Commons Treasury select committee report suggested this week, it's the most vulnerable who still depend on cash: older people either terrified of being scammed or struggling to get to grips with apps, people whose credit rating is too trashed to get a bank account, adults with learning disabilities who can more easily understand that when cash is gone it's really gone, and women squirrelling away 'running away money' their partners don't know about. (One of the most upsetting stories the MPs heard was from a woman whose abusive partner had withheld the electronic bill payment for the kids' school lunches: the school didn't let her pay in cash, the only way she had of getting around his control of their account.) And then there's the fact that, as Spain discovered during this week's massive power outage, cash may no longer be king but when the worst happens, it's still a critical spare to the heir. Sweden backtracked last year on plans to become a cashless society amid fears of becoming less resilient to saboteurs and hostile actors. Last but not least, meanwhile, is the faintly embarrassed 'am I mad to think this?' sense triggered by the speed of America's descent into dystopia, that having a source of money no ill-intentioned future government could track or summarily freeze for political reasons is an underappreciated safety net. Clinging on to cash is one of those strange issues uniting traditionalists suspicious of change – tellingly, Reform's 2024 manifesto promised to stop Britain becoming a cashless society – with conspiracy theorists convinced the global elite is after their assets, radicals of all stripes, small business owners sick of being charged by banks for card transactions and anti-poverty charities pointing out that cash is a lifeline for people on tight budgets. Even gen Z, in theory more open to digitalised lives, have taken to the TikTok and Instagram-fuelled cult of 'cash stuffing', or disciplining your spending by taking out a week's cash and sorting it into different envelopes for specific purposes. Once the envelope is empty, the spending stops. Thousands follow the big cash stuffers' faintly hypnotic videos of them counting out crisp tenners and stashing them neatly into pastel folders: like all those videos of influencers sorting their cereals into labelled glass jars, it speaks to a need for control, order and a sort of reassuring homeliness, reminiscent of your granny keeping the week's housekeeping in a biscuit tin. (Though, much like the biscuit tins, cash stuffing at home must be a boon for burglars.) As with the physical habit of reading newsprint, once confidently predicted to be dead by now, the longterm trajectory towards digital may be clear but letting go of something you can physically hold in your hand takes far longer than anyone thinks. Banks would love a cashless society, of course: the less physical currency swilling round the system, the easier it is for them to shut down all their branches and go wholly digital, forcing reluctant customers to phone a call centre or more likely message a chatbot if they need help. So much cheaper than maintaining an anchoring, human-employing presence on high streets where there's little else left but vape shops. But let's just say that the past few decades have not given me enormous confidence in the social worth of unquestioningly doing whatever banks want. Which is why I'll be hanging on, for the foreseeable future, to an increasingly pointless handful of cash. Gaby Hinsliff is a Guardian columnist Do you have an opinion on the issues raised in this article? If you would like to submit a response of up to 300 words by email to be considered for publication in our letters section, please click here.
