Inside, Paris smells different. The air carries the scent of earth after rain — damp ancient stone, cellar walls, perhaps a trace of smoke.

Visitors step from the bright riverfront into a dark passage lined with glowing photographs of caves, as a low electronic pulse seems to breathe through the walls.

Beneath it all, the old cobblestones of the Pont Neuf rise and fall underfoot.

The Pont Neuf Cavern, a monumental installation by French street artist JR — also known as the French Banksy — is free to enter around the clock through June 28.

Made largely from printed fabric and air, it transforms the 17th-century bridge into an artificial cavern rising 18 meters (59 feet) above the Seine.

“It feels like the city has disappeared,” said Léa Martin, a 22-year-old art student from Lyon on Tuesday. “You know the river is right outside, but for a moment you’re somewhere ancient.”

Paris steps in and sniffs history

The smell is central to the illusion.

Olfactory expert Sarah Bouasse created two shifting scents: drawing on geosmin and isoborneol, compounds associated with the aroma released when rain strikes dry earth.

It changes along the crossing: first wet earth and mineral dampness, then something warmer, smokier and faintly animal.

“Usually I cross here without looking up once,” said Michel Dupré, a 67-year-old retiree, blinking as he emerged into daylight. “Today I felt the stones under my feet. And smelled them too. It makes you walk like a child again.”

A sound installation by Thomas Bangalter, formerly of the French electronic duo Daft Punk, accompanies the work, filling the cavern with low rumbles, echoes and pulses.

Completed in 1607, the Pont Neuf — despite its name, “New Bridge” — is the oldest bridge still standing in Paris.

JR’s installation asks people to experience the familiar crossing through their noses, ears and feet.

It also pays tribute to Christo and Jeanne-Claude, whose 1985 wrapping of the bridge in pale golden fabric drew an estimated 3 million visitors.

Their work covered the Pont Neuf in light.

The dark side

JR sends visitors into darkness.

“You enter into the darkness,” he has said, “and emerge into the light on the other side.”

Visitors can also raise their phones to activate an augmented-reality experience developed with tech company Snap.

Digital bats trail light through the cave, passing bodies leave ghostly traces and a dancer materializes in space.

JR has linked the work to Plato’s allegory of the cave, in which prisoners mistake shadows for reality. Today’s cave walls, he argues, are screens and the algorithms that shape what people see. Yet the installation’s strongest effects require no phone.

“It’s completely strange,” said Nadia Benali, 34, smiling beside the artificial cliffs. “Paris needs things that make people stop.”

When the cave closes, its fabric will be reused or recycled.

The mountain will vanish, traffic will return and the Pont Neuf — older than the French Revolution — will emerge into the light once more.

That positioning matters because the travel market for LGBTQ+ people is not only about entertainment or nightlife; it is also about safety, ease of movement and the ability to patronize businesses without drawing unwanted attention. Visit Wichita says that Wichita does not have a dedicated gayborhood, but does have LGBTQ-friendly areas, restaurants, bars and shops spread across the city, especially in more central districts such as Downtown, Riverside, the Douglas Design District and Delano.

Why Delano is drawing attention

According to Visit Wichita, Delano stands out because it combines a historic riverfront setting with a mix of locally rooted commerce and tourist-friendly landmarks. The guide points visitors toward Riverfront Stadium, the Keeper of the Plains, Boats & Bikes, the Wichita Baseball Museum and nearby local shops, framing the district as a place where tourism and everyday neighborhood life overlap.

The district’s appeal also rests on its business mix. Visit Wichita highlights Vortex Souvenir, describing it as a shop that features local art and handcrafted goods from queer artists in the community. That emphasis on locally made goods and queer creators gives the area a distinctly small-business character rather than a chain-driven one.

For LGBTQ+ travelers, that kind of business ecosystem can be especially valuable. Travel guides and destination organizations often frame welcoming spaces not only as places that tolerate queer visitors, but as spaces where they can feel seen in the ordinary flow of commerce—shopping, dining, walking and attending events without needing to self-censor. The International LGBTQ+ Travel Association identifies itself as the world’s leading network of LGBTQ+ welcoming tourism businesses, reflecting the broader industry recognition that affirming travel experiences are a distinct market segment.

A city trying to signal inclusion

Wichita’s tourism guide says the city adopted what it calls the strongest non-discrimination ordinance in Kansas in 2021, protecting sexual orientation and gender identity within city limits. The same guide says that change helped Wichita earn a perfect 100 on the Human Rights Campaign’s Equality Index.

Those legal protections help explain why a neighborhood spotlight like Delano matters beyond tourism branding. When a city publicly identifies neighborhoods and businesses as welcoming, it creates a practical signal for travelers deciding where to stay, eat and spend their money. Visit Wichita’s guide presents central Wichita neighborhoods as places where queer couples are unlikely to face outright hostility and where public displays of affection are less likely to draw attention than in more suburban areas.

The tourism message is reinforced by the city’s broader visitor-facing narrative: Wichita does not claim a single concentrated LGBTQ+ district, but instead points to a network of friendly spaces across the city. That is a different model from the classic “gayborhood” approach, and it may appeal to travelers looking for a broader urban experience with multiple options for dining, culture and nightlife.

Business, nightlife and everyday visibility

The Delano District is not only about daytime tourism. Visit Wichita’s guide says Wichita’s nightlife is centered largely in Old Town, including two of the city’s gay bars, and it identifies XY as the city’s newest LGBTQ+ nightclub, with drag shows, karaoke and DJ nights. It also describes J’s Lounge as a gay dive bar near Old Town and notes that another nearby dive bar is popular with LGBTQ+ college students and locals.

Although those venues are not all in Delano itself, their proximity to the district helps create a larger visitor experience in central Wichita. For travelers, that means an evening out in one neighborhood can be paired with daytime shopping, riverfront sightseeing and dining in another nearby district without requiring extensive transit.

The nearby Douglas Design District adds another layer to that city-center network. Visit Wichita says the district includes shops, art galleries, restaurants and 108 murals, and it describes the area as gay-friendly. Together with Delano, this creates a corridor of visually distinctive, locally owned or locally flavored destinations that can be attractive to visitors interested in urban exploration rather than resort-style tourism.

Why this matters for LGBTQ+ travelers

A travel feature about one business district can reveal something larger about how destinations market themselves to LGBTQ+ visitors. The core message from Wichita’s tourism office is not that inclusion depends on one venue, but that welcome is distributed across multiple businesses, neighborhoods and public spaces. That approach reflects a shift in travel marketing, where affirming destinations increasingly emphasize walkability, neighborhood character and visible local commerce alongside formal protections.

For many queer travelers, a place like Delano can function as a low-pressure entry point into a city. Independent shops, restaurants and riverside attractions provide familiar travel anchors, while nearby districts extend the experience into nightlife and arts. The result is a destination image built less on spectacle than on everyday accessibility.

That matters because inclusive travel is not only about whether a destination is “friendly” in the abstract. It is also about whether businesses, public spaces and local institutions make visitors feel welcome in practice. Wichita’s tourism pitch suggests that Delano, along with nearby downtown districts, is part of that effort—one that combines local commerce, public art, and visible LGBTQ+ inclusion into a single visitor experience.

The business case behind the welcome

There is also a straightforward economic dimension to this story. When tourism boards identify LGBTQ-friendly districts, they are helping businesses reach a market that actively looks for affirming places to stay, shop and dine. Visit Wichita’s guide does exactly that by naming specific neighborhoods and businesses, from Delano’s Vortex Souvenir to Old Town’s LGBTQ nightlife venues, turning inclusion into a practical travel guide rather than a vague promise.

In that sense, Delano is more than a pleasant district near the river. It is part of Wichita’s public case that the city can be navigated comfortably by LGBTQ+ visitors, with affirming businesses and recognizable landmarks woven into the tourist experience.

Josep Turull, the Catalan rector of the Sagrada Familia and the priest in charge of its parish activities, recently granted The Associated Press a private tour to show off his favorite gems ahead of Pope Leo XIV's highly anticipated Mass on Wednesday night.

“We say that one of the elements of the Sagrada Familia Basilica is that you never exhaust it,” Turull said. “I have spent the last eight years as its rector, and each day I discover something new.”

1. Enigmas are engraved in the façades

Each morning, Turull approaches the basilica's elaborately decorated façades. They are packed with an abundance of religious scenes and symbols, some easy to interpret for anyone with a basic understanding of Christianity, while others are mysterious and even shocking to see in a church.

The westward-looking Façade of the Passion is stark, its figures tormented, their bodies strained in angular poses. That was how architect Antoni Gaudí wanted it — “harsh and cruel, as if made of bones,” to show the pain and torment of Christ’s final days.

Decades after Gaudí's own death, sculptor Josep Subirachs tempered the façade's misery with some playful elements. There's Gaudí himself, above the central door, staring across at Jesus carrying his cross to Calvary. And what's that suduko-like numbered grid next to Judas kissing Jesus before his betrayal?

The “magic square” symbolizes the inevitability of Christ's death; adding the numbers in any direction always produces 33, Jesus's age at his crucifixion.

Another puzzle awaits the patient eye that drifts across to the scene of Peter denying Christ: a small, square-shaped labyrinth. Turull said that it alludes to the need to keep faith in God when we feel lost.

2. The tower tops hold cornucopias and real birds of prey

After celebrating Mass, Leo will step outside to offer a blessing for the Tower of Jesus Christ that made the Sagrada Familia the world’s tallest church when it was raised in October.

The basilica's heights are bursting with nature, from the rooster who crowed while Peter denied Christ to reptiles doing the job of gargoyles, and piles of fruit that crown its spires.

There are also flesh-and-blood beasts; a family of peregrine falcons nest in the tower dedicated to St. James, keeping away pigeons and, more importantly, their excrement.

Gaudí's masterpiece was chosen as one of the ideal spots to reintroduce the species, as it was one of the last locations in town where these birds nested before disappearing during the 1970s. The falcons have been breeding successfully at the basilica for over two decades.

Turull said that these lightning-fast birds of prey “recover the cycle of natural life.”

3. The tour goes underground to find Gaudí's crypt

For the millions of annual visitors who admire the colored light filtering through the basilica's stained-glass windows, jostle for position to snap selfies and huddle around tour guides, it is easy to overlook what Turull calls its “spiritual heart." That requires going through a modest side entrance and descending a staircase.

Underground is a much smaller, more intimate chapel, where dozens of worshippers silently attend Mass and faith manages to keep sightseeing at bay.

Fittingly, it is here where Gaudí, a fervent Catholic, rests in a discreet tomb set inside a nook. He died exactly 100 years ago after being hit by a streetcar.

“People come to ask for his intercession,” Turull said, gesturing to the tomb interred in the floor. “That’s why there are so many candles. Because people place their trust in him. Many people have received favors for having prayed at the tomb of Gaudí.”

The Vatican is in the midst of a decades-long process that could eventually make Gaudí a saint. After Pope Francis named Gaudí “venerable” in 2025, the Vatican must now confirm a miracle attributed to his intercession for him to be beatified, then a second miracle for him to be canonized.

The basilica has proposed that the pope pray at Gaudí’s tomb during his visit, but whether he does remains to be seen.

4. A seashell for holy water

Before ascending, Turull pauses at an enormous seashell — a real one, not made of stone — that serves as a basin for holy water. He said that Gaudí had the seashell from the Philippines set in wrought iron and fixed to the column.

“Gaudí always takes nature as an example,” Turull said, referencing the way the natural world inspired his designs and decorations.

5. A changing room fit for a pope

Up a twisting staircase, a private room bathed in sunlight houses two freestanding oak cabinets laced with intricate ironwork. Designed by Gaudí, they hold the basilica’s most precious relics and most important clerical clothing. Among them is Pope Benedict XVI's chasuble — a cloak that clergy wear when celebrating Mass — from when he consecrated the Sagrada Familia in 2010.

This is where Pope Leo will change into a chasuble that is being sewn at a workshop just for this occasion.

Turull said the vestment will feature details symbolizing the day’s importance and a design related to the basilica's recently raised Cross of Jesus Christ. But he won't say anything more for now; some things need to stay secret.

Fogo Island Inn, perched on the rocks of Joe Batt’s Arm off the coast of Newfoundland and Labrador, Canada, has been widely profiled for its architecture and social‑enterprise model, and it is increasingly recognized in travel media and guest accounts as a distinctly LGBTQ‑affirming destination in a remote setting that might otherwise feel uncertain for many queer and transgender people.

A remote luxury inn with community roots

The inn opened in 2013 as the flagship project of Shorefast, a registered Canadian charity founded by Fogo Island–born social entrepreneur Zita Cobb to support the economic and cultural resilience of the island’s outport communities after the collapse of the cod fishery.

Shorefast owns the inn, and 100% of operating surpluses are reinvested into local initiatives and cultural programs instead of being distributed to private shareholders. This structure has drawn international attention as a model for community‑owned tourism that benefits residents as much as visitors.

Designed by Newfoundland‑born architect Todd Saunders, the 29‑room inn is elevated on slender steel stilts above the rock, with floor‑to‑ceiling windows overlooking the North Atlantic. Architectural and travel publications have repeatedly highlighted the building’s prominence in contemporary design, and it has been featured in exhibitions at institutions such as the Canadian Centre for Architecture.

While the inn primarily markets its design, cuisine, and four “seasons of the North Atlantic,” its leadership has also articulated a values‑driven approach that explicitly emphasizes hospitality for a diverse range of guests, including LGBTQ+ people, families, and solo travelers.

Explicit commitments to inclusive hospitality

Fogo Island Inn states in its publicly available materials that it is committed to inclusion across gender identity, sexual orientation, race, and other identities, embedding these commitments in staff training and guest policies. While the inn does not market itself exclusively as an LGBTQ+ property, its leadership frames hospitality as “welcoming people as they are,” and connects this to the island’s long tradition of neighbors relying on one another in harsh conditions.

Major travel publications have echoed this positioning. Condé Nast Traveler, which included the inn in its coverage of standout Canadian stays, described Fogo Island Inn as a place where guests “from around the world” are welcomed into community‑hosted experiences, such as boat trips and traditional music nights, noting that staff focus on making the property feel safe and comfortable for guests arriving “with a range of identities and family structures.”

The inn’s affiliation with Design Hotels, a global collection that publicly promotes diversity and inclusive hospitality standards, further situates it within a network of properties that court LGBTQ+ travelers and implement nondiscrimination policies.

In interviews about Shorefast’s philosophy, Cobb has linked the organization’s values to a broad understanding of social justice and equity, stating that the project exists to “push back against the extractive economy” and create dignified, welcoming work for local residents while inviting visitors “from all walks of life” to engage with the island on respectful terms. Although these remarks are not limited to LGBTQ+ concerns, they form part of the broader ethical framework that guides the inn’s policies.

Why LGBTQ+ travelers seek out places like Fogo Island

LGBTQ+ tourism has grown into a significant global sector, with destinations and properties increasingly emphasizing safety and inclusion as key selling points alongside natural beauty or cultural attractions.

Research cited by the International LGBTQ+ Travel Association indicates that many LGBTQ+ travelers still weigh potential discrimination, local laws, and social climate heavily when choosing where to go, especially in rural or remote regions where legal protections may be strong but cultural familiarity with LGBTQ+ communities can be uneven.

Canada has robust federal and provincial human rights protections on the basis of sexual orientation and gender identity, including in Newfoundland and Labrador, where explicit protections for gender identity and gender expression were added to the provincial Human Rights Act in 2013. National organizations such as Egale Canada and local groups like Quadrangle NL in St. John’s have documented both advances and ongoing challenges for LGBTQ+ people in Atlantic Canada, noting that affirming spaces—particularly in smaller communities—play an important role in reducing isolation.

Within this context, a high‑end, explicitly inclusive inn in a remote fishing community offers something unusual: the chance for LGBTQ+ travelers and families to experience rugged landscapes and small‑town culture without having to leave their safety or identities at the door.

From guest rooms to community experiences

Fogo Island Inn’s guest rooms are designed with a mix of traditional Newfoundland craft and contemporary design, and the inn emphasizes personalized service for couples, families, and solo travelers across its marketing channels. Rooms can be configured with different bedding arrangements, and the property welcomes children, which is notable given lingering stigma that some LGBTQ+ parents face when traveling with kids in more conservative locations.

Meal service features locally sourced seafood and ingredients, with the kitchen team highlighting foraged and seasonal products. Food media, including coverage in Bon Appétit and regional culinary guides, has praised the inn’s ability to adapt menus to different dietary needs, which can include specific requests from queer and transgender guests around comfort, health, or cultural practices, although these outlets do not single out LGBTQ+ diners specifically.

Beyond the building itself, the inn is structured to connect visitors with island residents through guided hikes, boat outings, storytelling sessions, and visits to studios where local craftspeople produce traditional quilts and furniture. Shorefast’s community host program pairs guests with local people who introduce them to the island’s history and daily life.

LGBTQ+ guests who have written publicly about their stays, including in personal travel blogs and social media posts, have described the host program and staff interactions as key to feeling safe and affirmed, citing moments where partners were treated neutrally as couples and where pronouns were respected without hesitation. These accounts are anecdotal and reflect individual experiences rather than formal surveys, but they illustrate how the inn’s general inclusion policies play out in daily practice.

A rare kind of rural refuge

Globally, many LGBTQ+‑affirming tourism offerings are clustered in large cities or well‑known resort destinations, such as Amsterdam, San Francisco, or Berlin, which are frequently cited in mainstream LGBTQ+ travel round‑ups. Rural and remote options, particularly at the luxury level, remain comparatively rare.

Canada’s federal tourism agency and provincial organizations, including Destination Canada and Newfoundland and Labrador Tourism, have increasingly promoted LGBTQ+‑friendly itineraries and experiences, often centering urban hubs like St. John’s, Toronto, or Montréal. Fogo Island Inn appears in several of these promotional narratives as a distinctive, design‑forward stay that aligns with inclusive Canadian branding, even when marketing does not explicitly foreground LGBTQ+ themes.

This visibility, combined with the inn’s codified nondiscrimination policies and staff training programs, helps position it as a rural refuge where LGBTQ+ travelers can expect the same level of affirmation they might seek out in more cosmopolitan settings.

Local culture, global conversations

The presence of LGBTQ+ guests on Fogo Island also intersects with wider conversations in Newfoundland and Labrador about inclusion and the future of rural communities. Local media coverage has documented efforts by activists and community groups to increase visibility and support for LGBTQ+ people in the province’s smaller towns, including Pride celebrations in places such as Corner Brook and Gander.

While there is no evidence of a formal, island‑specific LGBTQ+ organization headquartered on Fogo Island itself, Shorefast’s public communications emphasize respect for diversity in the workforce and among guests, and the inn recruits staff from a range of backgrounds. For LGBTQ+ employees and guests, this can mean navigating the realities of a small community with the support of an employer that has articulated clear inclusion commitments.

Organizations such as Egale Canada have recommended that tourism and hospitality businesses in rural areas adopt written nondiscrimination policies, provide inclusive training, and partner with LGBTQ+ community groups to ensure that inclusion is rooted in concrete practices rather than symbolic gestures. Fogo Island Inn’s combination of codified policies, staff education, and relationships with national and international networks aligns with these recommendations, even though the inn’s primary mission focuses on economic development and cultural preservation.

Responsible storytelling and representation

Shorefast and Fogo Island Inn consistently present the island’s story through the voices of local residents, including fishers, craftspeople, and community hosts, in an attempt to avoid the extractive patterns that have historically characterized some tourism development in Indigenous and rural communities. The organization’s materials emphasize listening, reciprocity, and long‑term relationships with the island’s outport communities.

This narrative approach matters to LGBTQ+ travelers who may be wary of destinations that rely on stereotypes or exoticize local people. International LGBTQ+ travel organizations have highlighted the importance of ethical tourism that respects both local communities and LGBTQ+ visitors, encouraging properties to support human rights and community well‑being rather than simply marketing “gay‑friendly” imagery.

By centering local voices and maintaining a strong social‑enterprise mandate, Fogo Island Inn offers an example of how a business can be both LGBTQ+‑affirming and deeply accountable to the people who live in the surrounding community.

Looking ahead: A model for inclusive rural tourism

As climate change, economic shifts, and demographic changes reshape coastal regions worldwide, rural tourism projects are likely to play a growing role in sustaining small communities. Policy guidance from organizations such as the United Nations World Tourism Organization has underscored that inclusive tourism—where LGBTQ+ people, people with disabilities, and other marginalized groups are welcomed and protected—is not just a social imperative but also a long‑term economic strategy.

Fogo Island Inn’s continued prominence in international design and travel media suggests that remote, community‑owned enterprises can attract visitors precisely because they offer both high‑end experiences and a clear values framework. For LGBTQ+ travelers, that framework translates into an assurance that their identities will be respected in a place where the horizon is open, the weather is unpredictable, and the nearest major city is hundreds of kilometers away.

As more LGBTQ+ people look beyond traditional urban hubs for travel that combines safety, culture, and connection to local communities, the model taking shape on Fogo Island may offer a template: start with clear protections and training, root the business in community ownership, and treat inclusive hospitality as a core practice rather than an add‑on.

On the rocks outside the inn’s floor‑to‑ceiling windows, waves break against the shore much as they have for generations. Inside, couples, families, and solo travelers—including LGBTQ+ guests from around the world—share meals, stories, and the rare feeling of being fully welcomed at the edge of the world.

Banderas Bay has no shortage of all-inclusives, but few were built to disappear into the land the way this one was. Armony Marival Resort & Spa Punta de Mita sits directly on Playa Destiladeras, a roughly 3-mile run of Pacific coast, with 268 rooms tucked so far into the greenery you can barely pick them out from the sand. The sheltered bay keeps the water calm and the undertow light, which makes the beach genuinely swimmable, and there is no seaweed to wade through. It is the kind of sand built for a slow morning walk, sunrise yoga or an afternoon watching the kids dig in. The resort's biophilic design earned a 2023 Jalisco Architecture Award, down to the cuastecomate tree whose round fruit turns up scattered across the grounds and, eventually, on the dinner plate.

A family name behind the front desk

Armony is the newest chapter of a Mexican hospitality group whose roots run deep along this coast. The company traces its all-inclusive lineage to Nuevo Vallarta, where it converted the old Jack Tar Village property and helped pioneer the region's all-inclusive model decades ago. The group says it was among the first to bring the format to the bay. That heritage carries a family-owned sensibility the staff sums up as "mi casa, tu casa," and it reads in how they greet returning guests by name. Armony opened in 2020 as the group's first property in Punta de Mita, then joined Accor's MGallery Collection in early 2025.

The jungle as design language

Most resorts draw a hard line between the manicured grounds and the wild edge beyond. Armony blurs it on purpose. The buildings were sited to be consumed by vegetation rather than to hold it back, and guests who arrive expecting a sealed resort perimeter find something more porous and alive. Iguanas sun themselves on the walkways, and the canopy presses close to the open-air restaurants. The whole property reads less like a compound dropped onto the coast than like something that grew there.

Soft wellness; room for everyone

Wellness here is woven in rather than being the whole point. Watsu water therapy is complementary, and the daily program runs from beach yoga to sound healing and tai chi under the trees. The resort is family friendly, with a kids' club featuring art and nature programming, a family fun room loaded with arcade games and VR stations, a ramen vending machine, a cooking station where kids build their own bowls and more. The bay turns into a stage from December through March, when humpback whales move through to calve offshore. When someone spots one surfacing, the resort rings a gong, and guests up and down the beach turn to watch.

An all-inclusive that shows its math

Armony treats the all-inclusive format with unusual candor, with a European plan that allows guests to opt out of the full package if they want, and menus show the prices so you can see the value of what is already covered. A handful of premium items carry an upcharge, stated plainly rather than buried, and several restaurants remain open to the public rather than sealing the property off from the surrounding destination.

A taste of what is coming

The food program delivers well above the all-inclusive standard. At the buffet restaurant, live cooking stations put the preparation in front of you rather than behind a sneeze guard. Divum, the adults-only signature restaurant, runs a zero-kilometer kitchen, sourcing ingredients from the region and building its menu around what the land offers, including that cuastecomate mole that has become the property's calling card. A new concept, Parrotfish, is on the way. The mocktail that greets you on arrival, with passion fruit, pineapple and vanilla, sets the tone for how seriously the team takes what lands in the glass as well as on the plate.

What Armony offers that a standard beach resort cannot is the sense that you have been somewhere specific. Plenty of places promise warmth and a pool and a buffet, and most of them could be anywhere. Here, the jungle keeps reminding you exactly where you stand, pressing in at the edges of every path, refusing to let the destination fade into the background. That is the wager the whole property makes, and it is the direction more of the Mexican Pacific is starting to follow.

Perched on the eastern shore of Lake Michigan, about two hours from Chicago and three from Detroit, South Haven has long sold itself on sunsets, sailboats, and family‑friendly beach holidays. But over the last few years, a quieter shift has been unfolding: more queer‑owned businesses opening their doors, more visibly LGBTQ+ visitors strolling beachside, and a local Pride celebration that’s gone from “tiny picnic” to “full‑blown downtown moment.”

The result is the kind of place that makes you say, with genuine delight: “Wait… this town is queer now?!”

A Lake Town With Rainbow Edges

South Haven sits in southwestern Michigan’s traditionally conservative farm‑and‑fruit belt, but the city itself has leaned more socially progressive in recent years as tourism and remote workers have reshaped the lakeshore corridor. The area’s long‑running reputation as a summer escape for families from Chicago, Grand Rapids, and Detroit has gradually intersected with a broader trend: LGBTQ+ travelers looking for quieter, more affordable alternatives to legacy gay destinations like Provincetown or Fire Island.

Across the U.S., small towns from Lexington, Kentucky to Bisbee, Arizona have embraced LGBTQ+ visitors, with national publications increasingly spotlighting “unexpected” queer‑friendly destinations. South Haven is part of that wave, but its evolution has been particularly driven by visible LGBTQ+ business owners and community organizers.

One of the most attention‑grabbing signals came from travel‑focused LGBTQ+ content creators, including an early‑2024 Instagram reel that dubbed South Haven “the gayest small town in the Midwest, fight me,” calling out a queer‑owned bed‑and‑breakfast and the town’s surprisingly inclusive vibe. While that claim is more tongue‑in‑cheek than statistical fact , the video racked up tens of thousands of views and planted South Haven in the minds of LGBTQ+ travelers well beyond Michigan.

Queer‑Owned Inns and the New Great Lakes “Gay Guestroom”

The biggest sparkle in South Haven’s emerging LGBTQ+ scene comes from its lodging. Bed‑and‑breakfast culture is serious business here—this is a town where porches and pancakes are practically a competitive sport—and several queer‑owned or loudly queer‑friendly inns now anchor the hospitality landscape.

The historic Victoria Resort Bed & Breakfast, a 1920s property tucked into a tree‑lined residential neighborhood, has become a standout for LGBTQ+ travelers thanks to openly queer ownership, inclusive marketing, and an emphasis on welcoming same‑gender couples and transgender guests with zero fuss and plenty of carbs. The inn promotes South Haven Pride on its website, highlights LGBTQ+ events in its newsletters, and has been featured in queer travel content that praises it for being “as rainbow‑warm as the sunrise over the lake.”

Other area lodgings, while not explicitly branded as LGBTQ+ spaces, have leaned into inclusive language and imagery, featuring diverse couples in their marketing and listing their properties on LGBTQ+‑focused travel platforms like QueerAdventurers.com . This visible inclusion—rainbow stickers on front doors, nondiscrimination policies published on websites, pronoun‑friendly check‑in forms—is part of what signals safety and comfort to transgender travelers and queer families who have to think about more than just thread count when booking a room.

Pride at the Pier: How a Harbor Town Built a Celebration

South Haven’s Pride celebration is young, but growing fast. South Haven Pride, a local volunteer‑run organization, began coordinating events in the early 2020s with a mission to “create safe, affirming spaces for LGBTQ+ people and allies in South Haven and surrounding communities.”

In June 2024, South Haven Pride successfully launched the city's first-ever official LGBTQ+ Pride festival. The historic inaugural event brought the community together with a downtown march, live music, a family-friendly picnic, and booths from local businesses showing public support. Since that landmark debut, the celebration has rapidly grown, expanding its programming to include youth-focused events, weekend beach meetups, and partnerships with local inclusive churches.

Local media coverage from the South Haven Tribune described families with small children waving rainbow flags, older LGBTQ+ residents sharing that they “never expected to see a Pride march in South Haven,” and small‑business owners noting that Pride weekend has become a meaningful boost to early‑summer tourism. For a town of about 4,000 year‑round residents, that visibility is part celebration, part gentle revolution.

Behind the Sparkle: Who’s Making South Haven Queer‑Friendly?

South Haven’s queer turn is not an accident; it is the result of local organizing, hospitable business owners, and broader policy shifts in Michigan that signal support for LGBTQ+ residents.

In 2023, Michigan amended its Elliott‑Larsen Civil Rights Act to explicitly include sexual orientation and gender identity as protected categories, prohibiting discrimination in employment, housing, and public accommodations statewide. LGBTQ+ advocacy organizations, including Equality Michigan , identified the change as a “game‑changer” for queer people living outside of major cities, noting that legal protections can make smaller communities feel more livable and safer.

At the local level, South Haven’s city leadership and tourism promoters have echoed an inclusive message. The South Haven/Van Buren County Convention and Visitors Bureau uses language about welcoming “all visitors” and has shared Pride event information on its visitor‑facing platforms. While not branded explicitly as an LGBTQ+ destination, the bureau’s promotion of Pride programming and its partnerships with South Haven Pride help normalize queer presence in the local tourism economy.

On the ground, LGBTQ+ residents and seasonal workers are creating the social infrastructure that makes a place feel authentically queer‑friendly rather than just rainbow‑washed. South Haven Pride has highlighted the roles of local queer educators, artists, and hospitality workers who host meetups, drag‑adjacent variety shows, and informal social nights at bars and restaurants around town. While many of these events are still modest in scale—think twenty people at a trivia night, not a 2 a.m. circuit party—they provide vital community, especially for younger LGBTQ+ people and transgender residents who might otherwise feel isolated in a rural county.

The Unexpected Gay Itinerary: Beaches, Blueberries, and a Lot of Rosé

For LGBTQ+ travelers, South Haven offers a specific flavor of queer getaway: low‑key, outdoorsy, heavy on carbs and local wine, and light on big‑city nightlife.

During the day, the draw is obvious. South Haven features seven public beaches along Lake Michigan, a picturesque lighthouse and pier, and a walkable harbor district lined with shops and cafés. The Kal‑Haven Trail, a 33‑mile rail‑trail connecting South Haven to Kalamazoo, adds bike‑friendly adventure, popular with couples looking for a blend of nature and town time.

Food and drink are another big pull. Nearby wineries and tasting rooms in Michigan’s Lake Michigan Shore American Viticultural Area have been increasingly vocal about LGBTQ+ inclusion, welcoming Pride groups and featuring rainbow flags and signage during June. Some South Haven eateries and bars have hosted Pride‑adjacent events, from drag brunches to themed cocktail nights, often promoted via Instagram and Facebook to LGBTQ+ audiences.

Then there are the blueberries. South Haven markets itself as the “Blueberry Capital of the World” and hosts the National Blueberry Festival every August, a four‑day event with parades, live music, pie‑eating contests, and a blueberry‑themed 5K. In recent years, festival organizers have highlighted inclusive, family‑friendly programming and have welcomed LGBTQ+ families and couples among the thousands of attendees that flood the town each summer. While the festival is not specifically queer‑branded, its open, community‑focused nature and the town’s growing Pride presence have made it part of the broader LGBTQ+ travel appeal.

How Safe and Inclusive Is It, Really?

For LGBTQ+ travelers—especially transgender people, queer people of color, and families with kids—the question isn’t just “Is this cute?” It’s “Is this safe and affirming?”

Michigan overall ranks in the upper tier of U.S. states for LGBTQ+ equality measures, according to state‑by‑state scorecards that weigh nondiscrimination protections, relationship recognition, and trans‑inclusive policies. The state’s explicit civil‑rights protections for sexual orientation and gender identity, plus its recognition of same‑gender marriage and adoption, create a legal backdrop that many Midwest queer travelers find reassuring.

On a local level, South Haven Pride reports positive relationships with city officials and law enforcement during Pride events, highlighting collaboration on safety planning and street closures. The South Haven Tribune has not reported significant anti‑LGBTQ+ incidents connected to Pride in recent years, noting that community responses have largely been supportive or neutral.

That said, South Haven remains a small town in a largely rural county. Public displays of affection by same‑gender couples may still draw stares in certain settings, and transgender travelers in particular may encounter inconsistent levels of understanding in some businesses or surrounding communities. LGBTQ+ advocacy groups generally recommend that travelers in smaller destinations research local resources, connect with community organizations like South Haven Pride in advance via email or social media, and prioritize clearly queer‑friendly lodging and venues.

The Bigger Picture: Small‑Town Queerness Is Having a Moment

South Haven’s evolution fits into a larger North American story: queer life slowly expanding beyond major urban centers.

Recent travel coverage has highlighted an array of small U.S. cities and towns—Lexington, Kentucky; McMinnville, Oregon; Saratoga Springs, New York; and Bisbee, Arizona among them—as notably LGBTQ+‑friendly, pointing to Pride celebrations, queer‑owned businesses, and visible local activism. LGBTQ+ travel guides emphasize that younger queer people and LGBTQ+ families are increasingly seeking destinations that combine outdoor recreation, affordability, and community over all‑night clubbing.

Meanwhile, organizations like Big Gay Hudson Valley in upstate New York have shown how regional LGBTQ+ initiatives can connect smaller communities into a broader queer ecosystem, promoting Pride events and queer‑owned businesses across multiple towns. South Haven Pride plays a similar role along Michigan’s lakeshore, connecting South Haven to nearby communities like Saugatuck, Douglas, and Holland, which have their own varying levels of LGBTQ+ visibility.

In this context, South Haven’s story is less about becoming “the next Provincetown” and more about joining a growing constellation of smaller, quieter queer places—spots where LGBTQ+ people can hold hands on a beach, sip local wine, chat with queer‑owned innkeepers about dinner reservations, and feel genuinely, comfortably included.

If You Go: Queer‑Forward South Haven, in Practice

Travel guides generally recommend late spring through early fall as the prime window for South Haven, when the beaches are open, the farmers’ markets are overflowing, and the sunsets linger well past 9 p.m. For LGBTQ+ visitors, timing a trip with South Haven Pride or the National Blueberry Festival in August can add a communal, celebratory layer to the experience.

Queer travelers looking to build an inclusive itinerary can:

- Stay at a queer‑owned or clearly queer‑affirming inn or bed‑and‑breakfast such as Victoria Resort Bed & Breakfast, which has a documented track record of welcoming LGBTQ+ guests.

- Use social media—searching hashtags like #SouthHavenPride or following South Haven Pride on Facebook and Instagram —to find current events, meetups, and Pride‑adjacent gatherings.

- Explore wineries along the Lake Michigan Shore Wine Trail and look for venues that have publicly supported Pride or hosted inclusive events.

- Build in some time to wander: the harbor, downtown shops, and beach paths are where you’re most likely to spot rainbow stickers on storefronts and other subtle signals that the town’s “queer now” reputation is rooted in real people and real community.

South Haven may never top the global “gay destination” charts, and that’s partly the point. Its appeal lies in its scale: a town where you can recognize faces by day two, where Pride organizers are also your baristas and bartenders, and where the most pressing evening decision is which beach to watch the sky go cotton‑candy over Lake Michigan.

For LGBTQ+ travelers who have ever wondered whether a classic Midwestern beach town could feel truly welcoming, South Haven’s emerging answer is gentle but clear: pull up a porch chair. You’re invited.

Cotingnac is in the South of France, about an hour from the Mediterranean, and its oldest homes are dug straight into the stone. Saint-Tropez gets the crowds down on the coast; Cotignac has spent 50 years quietly hosting famous names who didn't want to be found.

The Provence village most American itineraries miss

France welcomed a record 102 million international visitors in 2025, and arrivals from the United States grew by more than 10%. Traditionally, international visitors gravitate toward Paris, the Riviera and the lavender country around Aix-en-Provence, leaving the green interior largely to the French.

Cotignac joined Les Plus Beaux Villages de France, the independent association that maintains France's best-known list of its most beautiful villages, in 2022. It remains 1 of only 7 in the surrounding Var region to hold the label, and one look explains why: the buildings back directly onto the rock.

The cliff, cut by the Cassole river, runs 1,300 feet long and 260 feet high, with two medieval watchtowers at the summit and a secured path behind the town hall that climbs past the old cave homes. Below, the Cours Gambetta stretches through the village center under ancient plane trees, with cafes along its length and a Tuesday market selling local produce and crafts.

Sleeping inside the rock at Lou Calen

Guests at La Troglodyte sleep with a 260-foot-high cliff for a headboard. The bedroom and shower are cut into the bare limestone, the same rock that hid villagers during medieval raids, and a glass-walled living area opens the cave to the Provence sun. It is the closest a luxury hotel gets to living the way Cotignac's first residents did, minus the invading armies. A second cave room is in the works at Lou Calen, whose 7-acre estate holds more than 30 rooms and gardens, with olive trees and vegetable beds supplying the kitchens a few steps away.

The hotel has been attracting notable guests since it opened in 1971: Yvonne de Gaulle, widow of French President Charles de Gaulle, stayed for a month in 1972, and singer Joe Dassin held his 500-guest wedding here in 1978. It closed in 1999 and sat dark until Canadian entrepreneur Graham Porter bought it in 2015. He reopened it in stages, finishing in June 2024 with the last guest rooms and O Fadoli, a bar on the main square devoted to pastis, the anise-flavored aperitif of southern France. The full history, including the nuns who ran the building before it ever took a paying guest, is told in the story of Lou Calen.

A Michelin chef who said no to the stars

The estate's fine dining restaurant holds a Michelin Green Star, an award the guide created for restaurants leading the way in eco-responsible cooking. The chef behind it trained in Lyon under Paul Bocuse and spent more than 15 years with Alain Ducasse, including the three-star Louis XV in Monaco and the Bastide de Moustiers, before running kitchens at Monaco's Hotel Hermitage. He says that when Michelin contacted him about his Cotignac kitchen, he asked to be left out of the star rankings; the Green Star was the only recognition he wanted.

Benoit Witz, chef of Jardin Secret at Lou Calen, says, "The biggest challenge is to make people happy with simple products coming from this area."

Dinner at Jardin Secret comes with no printed menu. Witz proposes the evening's dishes and swaps courses for guests who prefer fish over meat or vegetables over both. The kitchen wastes almost nothing; asparagus peels go into stocks, and trimmings turn into butters and sauces. A weekly three-course lobster lunch changes every time it appears. Meals run two, three or four hours, and early arrivals get a glass of wine and a walk in the gardens instead of a rushed table.

The rosé Americans already drink comes from this corner of Provence

In 2009, Stephen and Jeany Cronk sold their London home, packed up three children and moved to Provence, barely speaking a word of French. The rosé brand they launched from a spare room the next year, Maison Mirabeau, now sells in more than 40 countries, sits on Forbes' list of the world's top 50 wine brands and drew a majority investment from Chilean wine giant Concha y Toro in February 2026.

Americans don't need a plane ticket to taste it; the wine is available across the United States. The bigger reason to visit is the family's tasting room in the center of Cotignac, which pours the full lineup, including wines from Domaine Mirabeau, the first vineyard in France to earn both Regenerative Organic Certification and Certified Regenerative status.

Plan a trip from the United States

Marseille Provence Airport is the most direct gateway; Cotignac is about an 80-minute drive via the A8 highway. Nice works for travelers pairing the trip with the Riviera coast, and high-speed TGV trains stop at Les Arcs-Draguignan, roughly 50 minutes away by car.

A rental car is essential for both the transfer and the day trips to the limestone canyons of the Verdon Gorge, hilltop neighbors like Tourtour and the surrounding wine country. Spring and fall bring mild weather without the crowds. Summer brings markets, festivals and open-air concerts at the base of the cliff.

Cotignac won't stay quiet

Gordes and Saint-Paul-de-Vence were quiet villages once, before the day-trip buses found them. Cotignac now has the finished hotel, the recognized restaurant, the globally backed wine brand and the official label that tends to precede that kind of discovery. What it does not yet have is the crowd, and that is unlikely to last.

Mandy Applegate is a luxury travel and fine dining journalist who has covered destinations across 47 countries, with a focus on high-end experiences and distinctive adventures. She is a co-founder of Food Drink Life, where she writes about travel, food and culture for a global audience. Her work is distributed through the Associated Press wire and appears in major U.S. outlets, including NBC, the Chicago Sun-Times, the Boston Herald and the Daily News.

What makes Thunder Bay especially notable is the combination of its natural setting and its civic scale. Travelers can spend a morning on the waterfront, an afternoon exploring galleries or cafés, and an evening at a local performance or Pride event without dealing with the pace and expense of a larger metropolitan scene. That mix is one reason smaller cities are increasingly surfacing in LGBTQ+ travel coverage: they offer belonging through community institutions rather than through a single tourist district.

A Pride scene that signals welcome

Thunder Bay’s LGBTQ+ visibility has been anchored by local Pride organizing, especially Pride Thunder Bay , which has helped keep queer life visible in the city through parades, programming, and community outreach. The existence of an organized Pride body in a mid-sized northern city matters because it gives visitors a concrete sign that the city is not merely tolerant in theory but active in public affirmation.

Local Pride efforts also tend to be practical in smaller markets: they connect visitors with affirming businesses, volunteer-run events, and community partners more directly than in larger destinations where queer life can be diffuse and segmented. For queer travelers, that can translate into a more personal experience, with fewer assumptions and more direct local guidance.

Culture, food, and the feel of the city

Thunder Bay’s cultural appeal extends beyond LGBTQ+ life alone. The city has long been shaped by a mix of Indigenous, Finnish, Italian, Ukrainian, and other communities, and that multicultural identity is visible in its restaurants, neighborhoods, and public institutions. For travelers, this gives the city a distinct character: it is not a generic small town, but a northern city with a layered identity that rewards curiosity.

That cultural depth also helps explain why queer visitors may find Thunder Bay appealing even without a dense nightlife strip. Smaller cities often develop welcoming atmospheres through cafés, bookstores, arts venues, and neighborhood gathering places, and Thunder Bay’s local scene fits that pattern. Rather than selling itself as an explicitly “gay district” destination, the city offers a broader sense of livability that can still matter deeply to LGBTQ+ travelers seeking spaces where they do not have to perform tourist identity to feel comfortable.

The landscape is part of the story

One of Thunder Bay’s strongest selling points is its geography. The city sits beside Lake Superior, and the surrounding region includes some of Ontario’s most striking natural scenery, including the Sleeping Giant and accessible waterfront parks. For queer travelers looking for a trip that balances community with solitude, that landscape can be part of the draw: hiking, shoreline walks, and scenic drives provide a way to experience the region beyond nightlife and events.

That outdoor dimension is especially meaningful in the current travel landscape, where many LGBTQ+ travelers are looking for destinations that feel restorative rather than performative. Thunder Bay’s appeal lies in its ability to offer both public welcome and private space, with enough urban infrastructure to make a trip easy, but enough natural beauty to make it feel removed from the pressures of larger tourist centers.

Why it is becoming a hidden gem

Thunder Bay is emerging as a hidden gem for queer travelers for three reasons. First, it is relatively absent from the standard LGBTQ+ travel lists, which means visitors can still discover it as something of a local secret. Second, it has visible community infrastructure through Pride organizing and an established civic identity that gives affirming visitors a place to land. Third, it offers a travel experience built around the combination of culture and wilderness, which is increasingly attractive to travelers who want authenticity rather than a packaged queer-tourism brand.

Its under-the-radar status is part of the story. Mainstream queer travel coverage often gravitates toward destinations with already-famous reputations, but places like Thunder Bay show how LGBTQ+ hospitality is also being built in smaller regional centers. In those places, welcome is often measured less by spectacle than by whether a traveler can walk into a café, attend a community event, book a room, and move through a city without needing to explain themselves.

What queer travelers can expect

For LGBTQ+ visitors, Thunder Bay is best understood as a destination for a calm, self-directed trip rather than a party-first getaway. Travelers who value local culture, food, lakeside scenery, and community-based events are likely to find more to do than they may expect from a city of its size. Those looking for a dense late-night queer entertainment corridor may find the scene quieter than in larger metros, but that quieter profile is exactly what makes Thunder Bay distinctive.

The city’s value also lies in its flexibility. It can function as a weekend stop, a road-trip anchor, or a summer base for exploring northwestern Ontario. For queer travelers who often evaluate destinations not only by formal policy but by the texture of daily life, Thunder Bay offers an appealing blend of practicality and place: a city where the landscape is dramatic, the cultural mix is real, and the LGBTQ+ footprint is visible enough to matter.

The broader significance

Thunder Bay’s rise as a queer-friendly destination reflects a broader shift in travel culture. LGBTQ+ travelers are increasingly looking beyond the best-known urban icons and toward secondary cities that offer better access, lower congestion, and a stronger sense of local connection. In that context, Thunder Bay is not trying to imitate the better-known queer capitals. It is succeeding by being itself: a northern city where Pride exists, culture runs deep, and the lake and forest are never far away.

Taos has long been known to painters, skiers, and spiritual seekers; lately, it’s quietly drawing queer travelers looking for something softer than a circuit weekend and more grounded than a rainbow‑flag resort. There’s no official gayborhood, no giant nightclub. Instead, there’s a cluster of queer‑owned galleries and cafés, a gender‑inclusive spa dress code, Indigenous‑led cultural tours that welcome LGBTQ+ visitors, and a town ethos that leans hard into live‑and‑let‑live.

In other words: less glitter, more stars.

An artsy, off‑grid town with queer DNA built in

With a population hovering around 6,000 people, Taos is tiny even by small‑town standards, but its artistic and countercultural reputation is outsized. Beginning in the early 20th century, the town attracted painters and writers such as Georgia O’Keeffe, Mabel Dodge Luhan, and D.H. Lawrence, all of whom were drawn to the dramatic light and the sense that the rules—social, sexual, artistic—could bend a little here.

Taos’s creative streak never went away; today, the town supports more than 80 art galleries and studios, an unusually high concentration for a community of its size. Many of those spaces are either owned by LGBTQ+ people or intentionally showcase queer and gender‑expansive artists, though those connections are often more word‑of‑mouth than billboarded.

New Mexico itself has consistently scored among the more LGBTQ‑affirming U.S. states in recent years, with statewide protections against discrimination in employment, housing, and public accommodations based on sexual orientation and gender identity. In 2019, the state also banned the so‑called “panic defense” in criminal cases involving LGBTQ+ victims, becoming the first in the Southwest to do so. That legal backdrop matters when you’re queer in a rural place; it’s the quiet infrastructure that helps the town’s do‑your‑own‑thing vibe feel like freedom rather than risk.

A small town where queer visibility feels casual, not curated

On a summer afternoon, the Taos Plaza smells like roasting chiles and sunscreen. The adobe‑lined square, anchored by a 19th‑century church, hosts weekly live music and festivals where couples—straight and queer—dance together without fuss. You’ll spot same‑gender couples walking hand‑in‑hand, a nonbinary traveler comparing turquoise rings with a local artisan, and a lesbian couple chasing two toddlers carrying melting paletas.

There are no rainbow crosswalks, but there are subtle signals. A bookstore chalkboard invites customers to use their pronouns on name stickers. A café advertises a “Queer Zine Swap” next Thursday alongside its blue corn waffles. A local art collective’s poster touts a “Trans and Two‑Spirit Figure Drawing Night,” co‑organized with Indigenous artists from surrounding pueblos.

New Mexico recognizes Two‑Spirit identities as part of ongoing Indigenous cultural revitalization, and tribes around Taos—particularly Taos Pueblo, which has been continuously inhabited for more than 1,000 years—are engaged in broader conversations about gender, tradition, and community health. While those conversations are primarily internal to each tribe, tour operators and local Indigenous leaders have publicly emphasized that respectful LGBTQ+ visitors, including transgender and Two‑Spirit people, are welcome when they follow community protocols.

Safety, laws, and the reality of being out in the rural Southwest

For queer travelers, the romance of the open road runs up against a very practical question: Is it safe for us there?

New Mexico legalized same‑gender marriage in 2013 and has included sexual orientation and gender identity in its statewide nondiscrimination law since 2003. The state also allows transgender people to update gender markers on driver’s licenses and birth certificates with relatively streamlined processes that do not require proof of surgery.

In Taos County, local government has voiced support for LGBTQ+ residents through backing Pride events and inclusive public health messaging. In 2023, Taos hosted a public Pride celebration that included a march, drag performances, and a resource fair featuring organizations such as Equality New Mexico , the state’s primary LGBTQ+ advocacy group.

According to Equality New Mexico, reports of anti‑LGBTQ+ harassment in the Taos area remain relatively low compared with other parts of the state, though advocates caution that rural underreporting is a persistent problem. For travelers, that translates into this: Taos is not a risk‑free utopia, but it is meaningfully safer and more affirming than many rural regions in the U.S., particularly those without statewide civil rights protections.

It also helps that Taos’s economy is deeply reliant on tourism and the arts. Local business owners interviewed by regional outlets have repeatedly framed LGBTQ+ visitors as integral to the town’s creative and economic life, emphasizing that “everyone’s money is green here, and everyone should feel welcome spending it.”

Queer‑owned and queer‑friendly spaces, from hot springs to hotel bars

Unlike big‑city scenes, where queer life clusters in a few nightlife blocks, Taos’s LGBTQ+ spaces are more woven into daily life.

Several of the town’s boutique hotels and inns are owned or managed by LGBTQ+ people, many of whom promote their properties as explicitly inclusive on their websites and social media. Regional travel coverage has highlighted Taos as one of New Mexico’s more welcoming small towns, in part because of these visible commitments by hospitality businesses.

New Mexico as a whole has been marketing itself as an LGBTQ‑friendly destination, with the state tourism office’s “New Mexico True” campaign explicitly featuring queer couples in its imagery and recommending Taos in itineraries for LGBTQ+ travelers seeking art, skiing, and spiritual retreats. That state‑level endorsement has nudged more local businesses to adopt inclusive policies and staff training.

Within a short drive of town, clothing‑optional hot springs and spa retreats popular with queer and gender‑expansive visitors emphasize body‑positive, all‑genders‑welcome policies on their websites. Travelers can soak under a sky so dark that the Milky Way looks like spilled salt, surrounded by piñon and juniper; at some properties, the only dress code is “respect other people’s boundaries.”

Taos also sits near the world‑famous Earthship community, a cluster of radically sustainable homes built from recycled materials like tires and bottles. The off‑grid, eco‑queer aesthetic is strong here—think solar panels, rainwater catchment, queer environmentalists in wide‑brim hats, and guests of all genders marveling at how cool the interior stays without air‑conditioning.

Pride on the mesa: small, scrappy, and deeply local

Taos doesn’t make the list of North America’s top ten LGBTQIA+ destinations in mainstream travel surveys, which tend to focus on big cities like New York, San Francisco, and Toronto. But local Pride celebrations have been growing, mirroring a broader trend of rural and small‑town Pride events across the U.S. and Canada.

In recent years, Taos Pride events have included a march through the historic district, an outdoor drag show in the plaza, and family‑friendly activities like story hours and craft tables for kids. Organizers have also elevated queer and Two‑Spirit artists in performance lineups, acknowledging the intersection of Indigenous culture and modern LGBTQ+ life in northern New Mexico.

Regional media have reported an increase in attendance, driven in part by visitors from surrounding rural communities who may not have a local Pride of their own. For queer travelers, that means Taos Pride isn’t just a party; it’s one of the rare spaces where LGBTQ+ people from isolated pockets of the Southwest can gather, network, and feel part of something bigger than their ZIP code.

What it feels like to arrive as a queer traveler

Getting to Taos typically means flying into Albuquerque or Santa Fe and then driving for an hour or two through landscapes that look like they’re still buffering. Cell service drops; the road snakes past abandoned gas stations, tiny chapels, and roadside stands stacked with ristras of dried red chiles.

For many LGBTQ+ travelers, especially transgender people and queer people of color, that drive can be tense. Nationally, both anti‑LGBTQ+ rhetoric and targeted violence have created new anxieties about traveling through rural areas. New Mexico’s legal protections and Taos’s inclusive reputation do not erase that context, but they do reshape the experience at the destination.

Visitors describe the moment they arrive in town as a kind of pressure drop: rainbow stickers in shop windows, inclusive bathroom signage at cafés, staff using gender‑neutral greetings as naturally as “y’all.” At night, the air smells of cedar smoke and roasting corn; couples queue for tamales after a drag show, kids chasing each other between food trucks, elders wrapped in woven blankets perched on folding chairs.

The sensory palette is unmistakably Southwestern—crisp, high‑altitude air; chile‑laced stews; adobe walls still radiating sun at dusk—but the social signals quietly say: You belong here, whoever “you” is today.

Outdoor adventure without having to go back into the closet

Taos isn’t just an art town; it’s an outdoor playground ringed by mountains, rivers, and canyons. Taos Ski Valley, about 30 minutes from town, offers skiing and snowboarding in the winter and hiking and mountain biking in the warmer months. The Rio Grande del Norte National Monument, just north of Taos, features dramatic basalt cliffs and river‑runner rapids that attract rafting and kayaking enthusiasts.

Queer travelers often talk about the relief of being able to book an outdoor adventure—rafting trip, guided hike, ski lesson—without having to downplay their partners or pronouns. In recent years, several regional guiding companies have publicly promoted their LGBTQ+ inclusivity in marketing materials and staff training, acknowledging the need for safer outdoor spaces for queer and transgender people.

That matters because outdoor recreation has historically been coded as hyper‑masculine and heteronormative, leaving many LGBTQ+ people feeling unwelcome or unsafe in wilderness settings. Taos, by contrast, offers an alternate script: a queer woman guiding your snowshoe tour; a nonbinary rafting instructor cracking jokes on the riverbank; a group of friends in Pride beanies taking selfies at the edge of a gorge so deep it feels like the earth itself is exhaling.

Intersectional by geography, not by marketing slogan

Taos sits at the intersection of multiple communities: the historic Taos Pueblo; Hispano villages whose roots stretch back to Spanish colonization; Anglo transplants from both coasts; and artists who arrived for a residency and never quite left. That layered history means that conversations about queerness in Taos are also conversations about race, colonialism, and gentrification.

Local reporting has documented tensions over rising housing costs and short‑term rentals, which affect low‑income residents—including many LGBTQ+ people—more acutely. Some long‑time locals worry that new money, including from out‑of‑state queer visitors and second‑home owners, could erode the town’s cultural fabric.

At the same time, community organizations in Taos have formed coalitions that include both LGBTQ+ advocacy and broader social justice work, such as housing, immigration, and Indigenous rights. For visiting queer travelers, that means the town’s queer‑friendliness is not just about rainbow flags in storefronts; it’s intertwined with ongoing work to make the community safer and more livable for all marginalized residents.

How to show up as a respectful queer guest

If Taos is starting to sound like your next desert crush, there are ways to show up that support the people who make it welcoming.

Travel experts and local advocates suggest booking with locally owned accommodations, including queer‑owned inns and guesthouses when possible, rather than defaulting to national chains. Visitors are also encouraged to take at least one Indigenous‑led tour or cultural experience rather than treating nearby pueblos as mere photo backdrops.

Respect local norms when visiting Taos Pueblo, which has specific rules around photography, sacred sites, and dress. Those expectations apply equally to LGBTQ+ and non‑LGBTQ+ visitors and are a key part of maintaining trust between the pueblo and the town.

And finally, consider timing your trip to coincide with Taos Pride or one of the town’s many arts festivals, from film to ceramics to poetry. You’ll not only get a richer experience; you’ll add your body, your story, and your dollars to a growing, resilient ecosystem where queer and trans joy isn’t imported for a weekend—it’s being rooted in the high desert for the long haul.