The Comfort Economies of Heat Tourism

It is April 2025, and both Cambodian cities, Phnom Penh, the capital, and Siem Reap, the tourist hub for the UNESCO World Heritage Site Angkor Wat are bustling. Despite the thermometer touching 36°C with more than 60% humidity, I still see tourists flocking around, taking the walking or tuk-tuk/car group tours continue despite the heat. To better understand the city, I decided to join one in Phnom Penh.

A tuk-tuk carrying a portable fridge to provide tourists with cold water after visiting sites under the sun (taken at 10 a.m.)

It was 4:30 p.m., the heat still rising from the asphalt streets, the air sticky, and I found myself among a surprising group of travellers. Most were lower-middle-class Europeans, eager to make the most of Southeast Asia’s touristic beauty at its more affordable rates. They knew the humid, heavy heat would be punishing but saw it as part of the deal.

“We plan the day strategically,” one said. “We take early morning tours and evening walks, hang by the riverside and food streets late at night, and in the afternoon, we chill by the hotel pool or go to a café with aircon.” This pattern was common, as the walking tour guide also confirmed the same.

For many of these tourists, the logic is economic. From October to February, Cambodia’s “cool” season brings large crowds, driving vacation prices high. In contrast, the March–April season offers cheaper flights, discounted hotels, and still-manageable heat conditions, especially when nearly every hotel has air-conditioning.

One Backpacker from Italy said, “Aircon is expensive at home. I never slept with it before coming to Asia. And somehow, I can afford it here and experience it in a package of cheap vacation, which I cannot back at home.”

For him, Cambodia’s oppressive heat is not a deterrent but an incentive- an inversion of comfort economies. For example, these tour packages are carefully organised to insulate visitors from discomfort. Day tours are conducted in air-conditioned cars or vans, complete with bottled water, chilled towels, and every possible convenience. The heat becomes a backdrop rather than a barrier, almost like a part of the ‘authentic tropical experience’.

In contrast, while speaking with tour drivers/operators whom the heat is unavoidable. Their livelihoods depend on tourism, and they cannot opt out when the temperature rises. Martin, a local guide, told me that business slows to a standstill from late April until September. “If we get a few tours in April, like this one, we schedule them in the early morning or evening because tourists prefer that. It breaks our routine, but what to do,” he said, wiping the sweat from his neck, spraying deodorizer around his body before greeting another group of visitors.

The irony is that these same service providers rarely have access to the air-conditioned comfort they provide their clients. After dropping off tourists at a cool café or hotel, many return to their small, overheated homes or shared dorms.

If you think of it, we find similar patterns appear across Asia. In Thailand, Vietnam, India, and Indonesia, “off-season” tourism has quietly grown among budget travellers seeking cheaper rates while still expecting the infrastructure of comfort like cars with AC, digital delivery services, shaded restaurants, and fast Wi-Fi. The promise of affordability relies, again, on the endurance of others: drivers, guides, cooks, and cleaners who keep the tourist circuit cool and running while they work in heat that feels anything but seasonal.

I call this phenomenon as ‘heat tourism’, which is not just about travel in extreme weather. It reveals a hierarchy of endurance: who gets to experience heat as an adventure, and who must endure it as work.