During a demonstration on Barcelona’s Las Ramblas in July last year, many of the neighbourhood associations, tenants’ unions and environmentalists had signs demanding ‘tourists go home’. Others simply took aim with water pistols at the holidaymakers enjoying drinks on café terraces.
Those pistols were refilled this June, when a coalition called the Southern Europe Network Against Touristification (SET) coordinated protests in a dozen summer hot-spots, including Barcelona, Venice, Mallorca, Palermo, Ibiza and Naples. So, if you’re about to jet off or are reading this poolside, you may be wondering: do Europeans hate British tourists? And if so, why?
When I moved to Barcelona in 2017 for my half-Spanish husband’s job, anti-tourist graffiti was around, but often suggested one disgruntled individual rather than an angry mob. So, what’s changed? ‘The pandemic offered a pause for locals to reclaim their streets, parks and plazas,’ says Professor Marina Novelli, director of the Sustainable Travel and Tourism Advanced Research Centre at Nottingham University Business School. Then came ‘revenge tourism’ – the post-lockdown travel surge when millions made up for missed holidays. Last year, Barcelona experienced a record 15.5 million arrivals, almost 10 times its population, with cruise ships capable of depositing 31,000 passengers a day.
Resident Anna Exposito, 46, is rattled by the influx. ‘I used to go to Barceloneta beach, but now I don’t feel safe there,’ she told me. ‘In the centre, Plaça Catalunya is so crowded I get overwhelmed. As locals, we’ve completely lost our city.’
Tourist numbers also crank up prices. Anna, a resident primary schoolteacher, doesn’t know if she’ll be able to continue living in Barcelona when her rent goes up in two years. ‘The owner knows foreigners can pay double, so she will do the best for her [own interests]. It’s really sad. I love my city.’
But protests aren’t simply about footfall or increased prices, says Novelli. ‘But rather deeper changes to community life caused by “touristification”. This is where places cater to tourists ahead of residents.’
While resorts have the infrastructure to handle high visitor numbers, she points to a new ‘cultural disruptor’ exacerbating tensions in residential areas ‘driven by curated photogenic experiences, such as brunch at a top-rated café, sunset cocktails, or an Airbnb with local charm,’ reels off Novelli as if she’s seen your Instagram. ‘The “brunch tourist” may not be visibly rowdy like your stereotypical Brit abroad of the 2000s, but they’re deeply entwined with gentrification.’
Post-pandemic, my own neighbourhood has changed dramatically. In 2023, a street pedestrianisation project aimed at improving community life was completed. But there are now eight English-named brunch cafés within two blocks. The household goods shop closed. Bike tours swoosh past local grandmas slowly wheeling their groceries from the market.
My neighbour Toni Fontclara, 69, was born one street away from where we live now. He’s bemused by lines of ‘your people’ waiting for avocado toast at 11am – a dish not from the region, served at an unheard- of eating hour for the Spanish, with a menu in a language he doesn’t speak.
‘Places like Lisbon, Venice and Barcelona are increasingly reduced to lifestyle back- drops where locals feel like strangers,’ says Novelli. ‘The SET movement is about cross-border solidarity. Ultimately, it’s not anti-tourist, it’s pro-resident.’
While water pistols appear to target tourists, the activists’ real goal is political pressure for tourism reduction. Barcelona mayor Jaume Collboni plans to revoke the 10,000 or so tourist (Airbnb) flat licences by November 2028. Venice day-trippers face a €5- €10 entry fee. Ibiza has capped hire car num- bers and Mallorca has residents-only roads.
But travel consultant Caroline Cartellieri, formerly at Expedia, doubts they’ll deter visitors. ‘Amsterdam has Europe’s highest tourist tax at 12.5% of the room rate, but a 2024 report found it would need to triple this to reduce numbers measurably.’ The only proven example is the $100 (£75) daily fee applied in Bhutan in the Himalayas.
So, could ‘cool-cations’ replace summer sun? This year, travel firm eDreams Odigeo reported a 27% rise in UK holidaymakers searching for Sweden and 16% for Denmark. But experts aren’t convinced. ‘Northern Europe is simply too expensive for many UK travellers, making destinations like Helsinki and Copenhagen inaccessible,’ says Beverley Boden of Teesside University International Business School, who researches tourism and the experience economy. ‘Brits fortunate to have an overseas holiday tend to stick with sun, sea and sand – not sustainability.’
For now, backlash is unlikely to stop the flow. But the message from locals is clear: when the world visits, someone pays the price.