Once upon a time, Guam was known as the honeymoon capital or the island of honeymoons. In the 1970s and 80s, newlyweds from Japan boarded short-haul flights not to Hawaii, but to this western Pacific outpost, a speck on the map that promised romance, leisure, and just enough exoticism. Hotels sprouted on Tumon Bay, and the island’s reputation was sealed: Guam was closer than Hawaii, more affordable than Europe, and dazzling in its simplicity—an ocean view, a palm-lined beach, and the quiet intimacy of a honeymoon escape.
By the 1990s, the honeymooners were joined by another force: shoppers. Duty-free stores and luxury boutiques transformed Guam into a haven for Japanese consumers eager to purchase designer handbags and watches at prices unthinkable back home. With Japan’s sky-high luxury tax, Guam became the place where Dior and Louis Vuitton were suddenly within reach. Tourists flew in not only for beaches but for bargains, filling suitcases with tax-free goods.
But every golden age has an end.
The Cracks in the Formula
The very forces that built Guam’s tourism identity also exposed its fragility. Japan’s currency weakened, making overseas travel costly. Domestic tax policies shifted, and suddenly the luxury goods that once drew shoppers across the Pacific were cheaper in Tokyo than in Tumon. What had once seemed like Guam’s unbeatable advantage vanished almost overnight.
At the same time, the island’s other selling point—the beaches—proved less unique in a region filled with them. Okinawa, Bali, and Jeju Island all offered sand and surf, often with lower costs and stronger branding. Guam, once the first stop for Japanese travelers seeking paradise, began to slide in the rankings.
Tourism numbers fluctuated. The balance that once fueled Guam’s economy was fraying.
Lessons From the Past
The challenges of Guam’s tourism are not new. Even in its early days, the island had to contend with forces beyond its control: typhoons that shuttered hotels, global recessions that dampened travel, and the geographic reality of being both close to Asia yet limited in scale. What made Guam appealing—its smallness, its accessibility, its intimacy—also constrained its ability to reinvent itself when the tides turned.
Where once Guam could compete as a luxury-shopping outpost, today it cannot. Where Guam once relied on wedding and honeymoon arrivals, today’s couples look elsewhere. And while Guam still draws hundreds of thousands of visitors a year, the question remains: what will sustain it next?
The View From Japan
For Japanese travelers, Guam’s image has shifted dramatically. Once a glamorous, affordable escape, it is now often considered expensive, even ordinary.
It’s not enough to say, ‘Come to Guam, beautiful beach, everywhere has a beach. You need to offer something unique.”
That observation cuts to the heart of Guam’s tourism dilemma. Beaches and shopping once defined the island’s allure; now, travelers want experiences. They seek meaning, culture, and experiences that they cannot find in Tokyo or Seoul.
And yet, the very foundation for those experiences exists on Guam. The island’s Chamorro culture, its Pacific Island ties, its complex postwar history, and even its natural environment—all of these could form the backbone of a new identity. But it requires investment, imagination, and, above all, the willingness to move beyond the well-worn marketing slogans of “sun, sand, and duty-free.”
What Comes Next
The future of Guam’s tourism may depend less on its past formulas and more on how boldly it reimagines itself. Eco-tourism, cultural immersion, culinary exploration, inter-island travel—these are the kinds of experiences that travelers from Japan, Korea, and beyond are seeking.
The honeymooners and luxury shoppers may have built Guam’s tourism economy, but they cannot sustain it forever. What will? That remains Guam’s unfinished story.
What is certain, though, is that the island stands at a crossroads. To continue marketing itself as just another beach destination risks invisibility in a crowded region. To reinvent itself—by restoring its natural beauty, empowering its local workforce, and offering experiences rooted in Pacific identity—could be the key to reclaiming its place in the imagination of travelers.
The question now is whether Guam will rise to meet that challenge, or continue to live off the fading memory of honeymoons and handbags.
Author’s Note: The perspectives and anecdotes in this article are drawn from a recorded conversation with Hidenobu “George” Takagi, whose long career on Guam has given him a front-row seat to the island’s shifting tourism landscape. His reflections have been woven into this narrative to highlight the broader arc of Guam’s evolution from honeymoon haven to shopping mecca, and now to an island searching for its next identity.
