You’ve probably felt it. That weird, claustrophobic realization that every single person you know is in Tokyo at the exact same time. Or maybe it was Portugal last summer. Or Mexico City the winter before that. It’s not just your Instagram feed playing tricks on you; it’s a documented phenomenon often called traveling in waves say NYT journalists and cultural critics who have watched the industry shift from individual discovery to collective migration.
Modern travel has become rhythmic.
It pulses. We don't just "go places" anymore; we surge toward them in massive, algorithmically driven clusters. This isn't just about "high season" versus "low season" anymore. Those old concepts feel almost quaint in an era where a single viral TikTok or a well-placed Netflix series can turn a sleepy Albanian beach into a crowded mosh pit of influencers within forty-eight hours.
The Mechanics of the Surge
So, why are we all doing this?
The New York Times has frequently pointed toward "revenge travel" as the catalyst, but the roots go deeper. It's about the "clumping" of human desire. When we talk about traveling in waves say NYT trend pieces, we are looking at the death of the "hidden gem." Honestly, there are no more secrets.
Satellite data and booking heatmaps show that global tourism isn't spreading out—it's concentrating. We are seeing a "winner-take-all" geography. If a city isn't "in," it's invisible. If it is "in," it’s overwhelmed. This creates a wave effect where a destination is discovered, exploited, and then occasionally discarded as the wave moves to the next shore.
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Take Japan, for instance.
After the borders fully reopened, the wave wasn't just a trickle; it was a deluge. The weak yen certainly helped, but it was the pent-up collective consciousness that pushed everyone toward the same three shrines in Kyoto. You’ve seen the photos of the crowds. It’s a literal wave of humanity. This kind of travel is less about exploration and more about participation in a global moment.
How Algorithms Control Your Suitcase
Let's be real: your "explore" page is your travel agent now.
Most people think they are making independent choices. They aren't. We are being nudged by the same three or four data points. When the traveling in waves say NYT analysis hits your inbox, it’s usually after the wave has already peaked. The algorithm sees you liked a photo of a specific limestone cave in Thailand. Then it shows you ten more. Suddenly, you’re booking a flight to Phuket because it feels like the "right" thing to do.
It’s a feedback loop.
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- Social Proof: We want to go where our peers have validated the experience.
- Ease of Access: Airlines see the trend, add more flights, and lower the barrier to entry, which makes the wave grow even larger.
- The "FOMO" Factor: If everyone is in Sicily because of The White Lotus, staying home feels like missing a cultural milestone.
But here is the problem with traveling in waves. When you arrive, you’re not meeting the locals. You’re just meeting other people who read the same article you did. You're standing in a line of people from Brooklyn and London to buy a croissant in a village in Provence. It’s exhausting. It’s also devastating for the infrastructure of these places.
The Infrastructure Breaking Point
Venice is the poster child for this, but it’s happening everywhere.
When a wave hits, the local economy doesn't always "win." Sure, hotel prices skyrocket. But the "overtourism" discussed by experts like Elizabeth Becker (author of Overbooked) highlights that these waves often hollow out cities. Residents get pushed out. The "authentic" bakeries turn into souvenir shops selling plastic magnets.
The wave isn't just a metaphor for popularity; it’s a metaphor for erosion.
Think about the Rhine River cruises or the sudden obsession with Iceland’s Blue Lagoon. These spots were built for a certain capacity. They weren't built for a wave of millions all arriving within the same three-month window. The result? We see entrance fees, "tourist taxes," and pre-booking systems that make a simple vacation feel like trying to get tickets to a Taylor Swift concert.
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Resisting the Wave Without Staying Home
You don't have to be a hermit.
You just have to be intentional. If you see a destination mentioned five times in one week on your feed, that’s your signal to wait two years. Or, better yet, look at the map and go two towns over. Most travelers are surprisingly lazy; they stay within a three-mile radius of the "Top 10" attractions.
If you want to avoid traveling in waves say NYT experts, you have to look for "the dip."
Go to the Alps in the late spring when the snow is gone but the summer hikers haven't arrived. Go to cities that are currently "unfashionable." There is a weird joy in being the only person at a landmark. It feels like you actually own the experience rather than just renting a slice of a trend.
Practical Steps to Outrun the Trend
- Inverse Your Timing. If the internet says the "best time to visit" is October, try April. You’ll deal with more rain, but you’ll actually see the architecture instead of the back of someone’s head.
- Use "Secondary City" Strategies. Want the vibe of Paris? Go to Lyon. Want the canals of Venice? Try Chioggia or even Colmar. You get 90% of the aesthetic with 10% of the crowd.
- Delete the Influencer Folders. Stop saving the same "must-visit" spots that everyone else is saving. Use physical guidebooks or, better yet, local newspapers from the destination to see where the residents actually spend their time.
- Look for "Linguistic Barriers." Places where English isn't the primary tourist language tend to resist the global wave longer. It requires more effort, which acts as a natural filter for the casual "wave" traveler.
Traveling in waves is the new normal, but it doesn't have to be your normal. The goal of travel was always to expand your world, not to shrink it down to a set of pre-approved coordinates. By stepping out of the rhythm, you might actually find what you were looking for in the first place: a sense of actual, un-curated discovery.
Stop following the surge. Find your own tide. It’s quieter there.