By April Park

In: the iconic Japan trip. 

Out: the $20,000 ‘Euro summer’.

Let me guess something. Your algorithm is filled with konbini snack mukbangs, must-try food spots in Kyoto, Donki shopping hauls, Mt Fuji views and Suntory -196s.

Look, I’ll be the first to plead guilty. I just returned from a six-month exchange program in Tokyo and did everything I just listed. The only thing I didn’t fall victim to? The desire to hoard matcha—yes, an actual phenomenon amidst shortages driven by global demand for a ceremonial-grade tea that can’t be produced at the same pace as fast fashion no matter how much demand for it spikes.

I’m part of a growing number of Gen Z and millennial travellers who see Japan as the dream destination. In 2025 alone, Japan recorded approximately 42 million tourists, including roughly one million Australian visitors.

But it raises a question: do travellers actually want to experience Japanese culture, or just take photos in a rented kimono and post their Michelin star omakase experience?

So, why Japan?

Japan offers something for every traveller. The ski slopes of Hokkaido. Anime heaven in Akihabara. Go-karting near Mt Fuji. Quiet countryside villages. Historic temples and shrines. Viral omurice. J-beauty and hair oils. 

Japan has a unique ability to take you from a traditional tea ceremony to the neon lights of Shibuya in a matter of hours. 

It’s known for its affordability (thanks to the weak yen), cleanliness, safety, advanced transport system and culture of politeness. For us Aussies, it’s also a much shorter plane ride than Paris.

The TikTok effect

Inspiration. Discovery. Adventure. Aesthetics. That’s how your For You Page now shapes travel.

Need help planning your trip? Easy. Just search the 4.7 million videos available via #japantrip. A ready-made travel guide at your fingertips. 

Your niche influencers recommend the local flea market for fashion gems or insist you secure your Ghibli Museum tickets exactly one month in advance so your inner child doesn’t miss out. Oh, and a discount code for Japan activities from whichever creator convinced you to book the trip in the first place. Influencer marketing 101.

Research shows TikTok is becoming the preferred search engine for Gen Z. Sorry Google, but the visuals and short-form video are like a drug for our shrinking attention spans. 

It also doesn’t help that our FYPs know us too well. Every like, watch and share determines TikTok’s next move, which, in turn, influences our next move. 

Overtourism: is there such a thing as too much influence?

A 2023 study by Statista demonstrates that 48% of travellers visit destinations primarily to show them off online.

That would explain the one-hour queue I saw at the Chureito Pagoda photo spot and tourists running across the road fighting for a shot of the famous Lawson Mt Fuji view. 

Who knew a convenience store would one day need crowd control for tourists and traffic management for drivers just trying to go about their day? Then again, can I even comment on this when I’m part of the crowd myself?

Famous Mt Fuji Lawson view. Image by April Park.

This is the reality behind those perfect Instagram dumps. Everyone flocks to one viral spot, causing overcrowding, traffic disruptions, noise and littering.

For locals, the consequences go far beyond inconvenience. Residents of Gion, Kyoto’s historic geisha district, have increasingly demanded action against tourists harassing geishas for photos and trespassing into alleyways.

I myself saw tourists with cameras chasing geishas who hurried away, covering their faces. There are even reports of tourists trying to touch their kimonos. Non-consensual photography and physical contact raise serious concerns about privacy and cultural respect. 

When destinations become content, locals risk becoming part of the attraction. They are observed, photographed and consumed in ways that echo colonial patterns of exoticising cultures that reduce people and traditions into something fascinating, unfamiliar and ultimately ‘othered’ by foreigners.

Somewhere along the way, we seem to have skipped cultural appreciation entirely, jumping straight to entitlement and exploitation. 

Actions have consequences

So, it seems the Japanese government has had enough.

If your Japan Trip 2026 group chat actually becomes reality, be prepared for some changes like:

• higher accommodation taxes in hotspots like Kyoto,
• tourist bans in certain areas, including parts of Gion,
• increased departure tax,
• rising visa fees,
• some major cultural event cancellations, including the Cherry Blossom Festival 2026.

No, these measures aren’t Japan’s way of saying ‘stay away’. Rather, they aim to better manage crowd safety and fund improvements to infrastructure, including airports and security amidst the tourism boom.

And it’s not just the government that’s frustrated. The Japanese community has also expressed their frustrations in discreet ways. Some local establishments have reportedly resorted to ‘no foreigners’ policies, commonly found in restaurants. 

One viral sign, translated by Google, reads ‘No vacancy’, followed by: ‘If you can read this in Japanese, please come in’. Conversely, some establishments display signs reading ‘Foreigners welcome’.

These signs may reflect attempts to preserve atmosphere, navigate communication barriers or protect local customs under increasing tourism pressure. They also raise the question: how much of culture should be available for tourist consumption in the first place?

The truth is, tourism numbers aren’t dipping any time soon. Nor should it. Travel fosters cultural exchange, supports local economies and is a powerful driver of self-development. 

Simultaneously, the same forces that make travel aspirational online can reduce culturally rich or even sacred places and people into products, content and spectacles.

So, where do we go from here?

Experiencing travel vs. performing travel

Living in a foreign country where I barely spoke the language and knew no one was one of the biggest risks I’ve taken. I had visited Japan multiple times before I made the decision and I consumed all the trending Japan TikToks.

Then I arrived at my dorm and thought I had made a massive mistake. The homesickness, loneliness and language barrier hit me all at once. The contrast was jarring. One week, I was posting the classic Shibuya Sky sunset Instagram story. The next, I was furnishing my room, registering as a resident, organising a phone plan, trying to make new friends and figuring out how to build a new life. 

I started at a new gym, and a staff member informed me I’d need to cover my tattoos next time. I was shushed by an elderly man while chatting with other students at the ward office. I spent far too long in supermarket aisles, Google translating packaging and ingredients.

I was no longer a tourist taking aesthetic photos, but a new resident trying to adjust to a new cultural environment, expectations and social norms.

Slowly, Tokyo became home. Beyond curating the perfect Instagram dump, I experienced a deeper side to the culture: respect, harmony and pride in craft. 

For me at least, the ‘true’ Japanese experience was found in small moments; the care I observed in everyday interactions, the strong sense of community and discipline in university sports club, and maintaining cleanliness and order in public as a sign of respect to your peers.

On the flip side, I also saw the non-aesthetic side: tough work culture and old-fashioned bureaucracy. 

My local Japanese friends balanced tutoring and restaurant jobs, while knuckling down on intensive studies. I spent more time than expected navigating paperwork; registering my address, sorting health insurance and making frequent trips to the konbini to pay rent in cash.

This experience taught me which aspects of Japanese culture aligned with me as well as the parts of Australian life I deeply valued. I returned, more independent, confident and with a stronger sense of purpose.

Sure, some of my Japan content was a hit on TikTok, but at such a formative time of my life, constantly trying to capture moments I thought audiences would eat up became exhausting. 

I realised I could always return to Japan and recreate the same exact photos. But I would never again be an exchange student, experiencing that version of freedom and uncertainty for the first time. 

Make your Japan trip your own

Photos capture moments and there’s absolutely great value in preserving memories. It’s the ‘show and tell’ mindset that risks turning experiences into performance. 

It’s no longer enough to go somewhere and experience something for yourself. But the best parts of my time in Japan don’t live in my camera roll. They often looked the least aesthetic and most weren’t tangible at all. 

The solution isn’t to cancel that Japan trip.

Maybe it’s travelling with enough curiosity to let places change you, rather than simply checking off your bucket list and content schedule. 

So, bring that journal, make a photo book and yes, bring that camera and take the photo. But let it become a reminder of how a place felt, rather than proof that you were there.

April Park is currently a postgraduate student at the University of Melbourne, completing her Masters in Publishing and Communications.

Cover image: Photo by the author, April Park.