Canary Islands Placed On Fodor 'no List' Amid Protests

Okay, so picture this: you’re scrolling through your feed, daydreaming about a beach vacation, and bam—the Canary Islands get slapped on Fodor’s “No List.” Wait, what? That’s like putting pizza on a “don’t eat” list. Unthinkable, right? But here we are.

Let’s rewind. Fodor’s, that fancy travel guide we all pretend to read, just announced their annual “No List” for 2025. And guess who made the cut? The Canary Islands. Not for bad weather or bland paella—nope, it’s because of protests. Big, loud, “we’ve-had-enough” kind of protests.

What’s the beef?

So, why are locals in the Canary Islands so mad? Imagine your tiny, beautiful hometown suddenly becomes a theme park for tourists. Everywhere you look: rental scooters, selfie sticks, and people asking if you sell “authentic” souvenirs. It’s like living in a postcard that someone keeps mailing back to you.

The islands—places like Tenerife, Gran Canaria, and Lanzarote—are drowning in tourists. I’m talking 15 million visitors a year for a population of about 2.2 million. That’s like packing your entire extended family into your living room and never letting them leave. Locals can’t afford housing because Airbnbs eat up all the apartments. Rent prices? Sky-high. Beaches? Crammed. The vibe? Strained.

In April 2023, thousands of protesters spilled into the streets. They held signs saying things like “The Canary Islands have a limit” and “Tourism, yes—but not like this.” Bold move, right? They’re not against tourists—they’re against unchecked, crazy-over-the-top tourism. The kind that turns a paradise into a parking lot.

Fodor’s to the rescue... or not?

Fodor’s, bless their heart, decided to take a stand. By adding the islands to their “No List,” they’re basically saying, “Hey, maybe don’t go there right now. Give the locals a break.” It’s like telling your friend, “I love your party, but maybe take a nap before you invite the whole city over again.”

But here’s the kicker: the list isn’t a boycott. It’s more like a polite suggestion. They’re saying, “If you do go, be cool. Don’t be that person who takes a photo of someone’s laundry line and calls it ‘culture.’” Instead, they recommend visiting lesser-known islands like La Gomera or El Hierro. Ever heard of them? Me neither. But apparently they’re stunning and way less crowded.

Now, let’s be real. Does Fodor’s really have the power to change mass tourism? I mean, it’s a travel guide—not the UN. But it does start a conversation. And conversations matter. Because if we keep visiting everything like it’s a buffet with no limits, eventually the buffet closes.

The irony of all irony

Picture this: the Canary Islands are known for eternal spring. Perfect weather, black sand beaches, and volcanoes that look like they’re from Mario Kart. Tourists flock there because it’s affordable, safe, and Instagrammable. But now, the very thing that made them famous—being a chill, welcoming escape—is being destroyed by its own popularity. Talk about a buzzkill.

I read one protester’s sign that said, “My grandfather grew bananas here. Now he grows miniature golf courses.” Okay, I’m paraphrasing, but you get the sentiment. Locals feel like they’re losing their identity. Their beaches, their traditions, even their quiet mornings—all turned into a product to be consumed. And who can blame them for being upset?

What does this mean for you, the would-be traveler?

If you’ve already booked tickets to Tenerife, don’t panic. No one’s going to throw a mojito at you. But maybe think about where you stay and how you travel. Instead of a big resort, try a locally owned guesthouse. Instead of eating at a chain restaurant, find the spot where the owner’s abuela makes the best papas arrugadas (wrinkly potatoes—trust me, they’re a thing).

And here’s a radical idea: go in the off-season. Like, what if you went in November? The weather is still warm, but the crowds are thinner. You’ll actually find a spot on the sand without having to use a towel as a territorial flag. Wild, right?

Also, consider voluntourism or eco-travel. Some groups on the islands are planting trees, cleaning beaches, and supporting local farmers. Imagine saying, “I went to the Canary Islands and helped restore a dune.” Vs. “I went to the Canary Islands and got a sunburn in a pool shaped like a giant starfish.” Which story wins?

Final thought: is this the future of travel?

Fodor’s putting the Canary Islands on the “No List” might feel like a slap in the face to a place we love. But maybe it’s actually a wake-up call. Overtourism is a beast—a hungry one. It eats up homes, cultures, and peace of mind. If we don’t learn to travel with a little more empathy and a lot less entitlement, we’re going to keep seeing more protests, more “No Lists,” and more places that become sad shadows of themselves.

So, next time you book a trip, ask yourself: Am I visiting a destination, or am I visiting a community? Because one of those leaves a place better than you found it. And the other? Well, that’s how a paradise ends up on a list you don’t want to be on. Cheers to traveling smarter, friend. 🏝️