In a dramatic turn that’s sent ripples through the global travel community, the city of Fujiyoshida in Japan has canceled its celebrated cherry blossom festival after a decade of drawing crowds from around the world. The decision, announced in early February 2026, comes after years of mounting frustration among residents over what officials now call a full-blown crisis of overtourism and unruly visitor behavior. As the mayor put it, the festival’s popularity has "threatened the quiet lives of citizens"—and the city has finally pulled the plug, hoping to restore peace to its picturesque streets.
For many, Fujiyoshida’s cherry blossom festival was the stuff of travel dreams. Set in Arakurayama Sengen Park, the event offered breathtaking views of pale pink sakura blooms with the iconic silhouette of Mount Fuji rising in the background. It was an Instagrammer’s paradise, and the city’s own version of spring magic. Since its launch in 2016, the festival’s reputation spread like wildfire, drawing up to 10,000 visitors each day during peak blossom season, according to BBC and The New Daily. In total, more than 200,000 people would descend on the small city—home to less than 50,000 residents—each year.
But what began as a well-intentioned move to revitalize the area and inject some energy into the local economy soon spiraled out of control. Mayor Shigeru Horiuchi, who has become the public face of the city’s response, did not mince words when announcing the cancellation: "To protect the dignity and living environment of our citizens, we have decided to bring the curtain down on the 10-year-old festival." He went on to describe a "strong sense of crisis" gripping the community, as daily life became "unbearable" for many residents.
So what exactly pushed Fujiyoshida to this breaking point? The answer, locals say, is a toxic cocktail of overwhelming crowds and increasingly disruptive tourist behavior. Chronic traffic congestion and widespread littering became the norm each spring, but the problems didn’t stop there. Residents reported that visitors were trespassing on private property, opening strangers’ doors to use their bathrooms, and even defecating in private gardens. When confronted, some tourists reportedly raised a fuss, escalating tensions further. As Kyodo News and BBC reported, parents began to fear for their children’s safety as visitors jostled them aside in the rush to secure the perfect photo spot.
"I feel a deep sense of crisis as I witness the reality that, behind this beautiful scenery, the quiet lives of our citizens are being threatened," Mayor Horiuchi told Kyodo News. The city’s statement echoed his concerns, noting that visitor numbers had "increased dramatically, exceeding the city’s capacity and resulting in overtourism, which is having a serious impact on the living environment of local residents." The hope that the festival would bring prosperity and vibrancy to Fujiyoshida had, ironically, resulted in the opposite: a community overwhelmed and, in some cases, disrespected by those who came to admire its beauty.
Fujiyoshida is not alone in grappling with the dark side of tourism’s boom. Across Japan, record-breaking numbers of foreign visitors have been reported, with The Japan Times noting that 42.7 million tourists visited the country in 2025—a sharp rise from the previous year’s nearly 37 million. The surge has been fueled by a weak yen, making Japan an attractive destination for international travelers, and by the "explosive popularity" of social media, which has turned places like Arakurayama Sengen Park into viral sensations. In December 2025 alone, more than 121,000 Australians visited Japan, according to the Japan National Tourism Organisation.
Other destinations near Mount Fuji are feeling the strain as well. In 2024, the nearby town of Fujikawaguchiko installed a large black barrier to block one of the country’s most-photographed views—Mount Fuji rising behind a convenience store—after residents complained of littering and illegal parking by photo-hungry tourists. The message is clear: Japan’s most iconic sights are struggling to survive their own popularity.
Back in Fujiyoshida, the city’s leaders say they had no choice but to make a stand. "We have a strong sense of crisis," Mayor Horiuchi reiterated, describing how the festival’s crowds had become unmanageable for the small city. The festival, which started as a way to "create a lively atmosphere in the area," had outgrown the town’s infrastructure. Lines for the best photo spots in Arakurayama Sengen Park could stretch for hours, and the sheer volume of visitors made it impossible to maintain order or cleanliness. "The damage and disruption caused by the thousands of visitors during the Cherry Blossom Festival" was simply too much, as local officials told Hidden Japan Gems.
Despite the cancellation, city officials aren’t naive about what comes next. The cherry blossom season remains a magnet for travelers, and the city expects another surge in visitors this coming April and May. To prepare, Fujiyoshida is rolling out a series of new measures: enhancing security, establishing temporary parking lots, and installing portable toilets in hopes of easing the burden on residents. The goal is to spread out the influx of tourists over a longer period, rather than concentrating them in a single festival window. But the underlying challenge—balancing the joys of tourism with the rights of locals—remains as thorny as ever.
Fujiyoshida’s experience is a cautionary tale for popular destinations worldwide. From Venice’s new day-tripper fees to Rome’s paid access to the Trevi Fountain, cities are experimenting with ways to keep tourism sustainable without sacrificing local quality of life. As the world’s appetite for travel grows, so too does the need for thoughtful management—and a little respect from those who come to enjoy what others call home.
For now, the cherry blossoms will still bloom in Fujiyoshida, and Mount Fuji will still loom majestically in the background. But the festival that once brought the world to this small city has ended, a victim of its own success—and a stark reminder that even the most beautiful places can only take so much.