There is a certain electricity that runs through Tel Aviv whenever IMTM arrives, like the city is exhaling in languages it doesn’t normally use day to day. You walk into the Expo grounds and the whole space feels like a busy train station without the trains: clusters of people drifting between booths, coffee cups held in mid-conversation, promotional posters of coastlines and mountain ranges glowing under the overhead lights. It has the energy of travel before the travel actually happens, a kind of promise in motion. And, honestly, it’s a bit fun to watch even if you’re not planning a grand escape. The world shows up here: tourism boards from Argentina and Japan, small boutique hotels from Greece, adventure touring companies from South America, spa resorts from the deserts of Jordan, private islands you’ve probably never heard of but suddenly want to Google later. Everyone is pitching a dream, and the dreams are quite nice.
The strongest feeling at IMTM is curiosity. You notice how people lean in when they pass unfamiliar destinations, like maybe this is the year they try something different. Israel, for all its complexity, sits at a crossroads that makes this gathering feel oddly natural. Tel Aviv’s casual buzz softens the formality of a trade show, so even suits look slightly relaxed, especially once the espresso carts start pouring. There’s always this mixture of business negotiation and travel-daydreaming happening at the same time. You’ll overhear someone comparing room block rates for conference groups, and two steps later someone is asking about the best sunset spot in Madeira. Both conversations feel equally serious.
It’s also a place where the regional mood comes into view. Tourism isn’t just beaches and itineraries; it’s politics, culture, memory, and sometimes hope. When neighboring countries set up side by side, their brochures brushing against each other, it is hard not to notice how travel is used to soften borders in the imagination. A booth offering hiking tours through the Caucasus can sit near a pavilion promoting pilgrimage routes in the Holy Land, and you get the sense that the world keeps trying to be more open than headlines allow. That subtle emotional undertone is part of what makes IMTM not just a marketplace but a small gathering of shared projections of the world we’d prefer to live in. I realize that sounds a bit sentimental, but walking through the aisles, it’s hard to avoid that feeling.
Tel Aviv itself plays a big supporting role. The city’s rhythm adds clarity to the event: mornings bright with Mediterranean light filtered through tram wires, afternoons that slow a bit before the evening wakes up again. After the exhibition floor closes, people peel off into bars around Sarona Market or smaller places in Florentin, continuing conversations over mezze plates and cold beer. This after-hours part is where a lot of the real deals happen. Or at least, where plans begin to take shape. I once overheard someone say that a good tourism fair doesn’t end at the show center but in the places where people loosen their shoulders a bit. That seems true here.
If you do attend, it’s worth giving yourself time to wander without an agenda. Maybe you’ll stop at a stand promoting eco-lodges in Albania. Maybe you'll find yourself in an unexpected discussion about cycling tours in Sicily. Maybe you’ll discover how big the world still is, no matter how well-mapped it feels online. IMTM has a way of reminding you of that. A reminder delivered through brochures, business cards, smiles, and sometimes awkward but warm attempts at cross-accent English.
And, almost inevitably, you walk away with at least one new place in your mind. A place you didn’t expect to care about that morning. That's the quiet magic of this event: the moment a destination passes from being a dot on a map to something your mind actually wants to touch.
