"USA TODAY International travel is declining, and it's costing the US: 'It's shaking everything up' Story Summary Increased scrutiny at U.S. borders and recent detainments are causing some international travelers to reconsider visiting the U.S. Some travelers are opting for alternative destinations like Canada due to the current political climate and rhetoric. Experts warn that the shift away from the U.S. as a travel destination could have long-term economic consequences. Ryan Estrada and Kim Hyun Sook recently made the difficult decision to cancel their monthslong visit to the United States this summer. They had spent years planning this trip, sacrificing others for this major one – Kim even denied renewing her job contract for it. Cartoon artist Estrada and his wife Kim, a Korean graphic novel author, have been living in her home country for the past several years. This trip was their opportunity to visit Estrada's family and also meet with libraries across the country to talk about the books that they collaborate on. Kim was planning to be in the United States on a tourist visa for the permitted three months while Estrada, an American-born citizen, was going to arrive earlier and leave later. They were all set for their trip when they heard the news about graphic artist Rebecca Burke being detained and banned from the United States. The British national, who was using homestays for her accommodations, was attempting to travel from Seattle to Vancouver during a backpacking sojourn throughout North America. "She's a friend of friends, and it just kind of scared me," Estrada said. "And everything after that, it seemed like every day there were two or three new stories that touched on exactly what we were afraid of." By that, he means the high-profile detainments and deportations of several green card holders, the enhanced scrutiny at U.S. borders, and the overall agenda of increased national security by the Trump administration. Even some U.S. citizens are hesitant to travel outside the country's borders. Some fear for their safety over what could happen when trying to enter the nation's borders. Others are angered at recent policies, like the trade wars, and rhetoric, refusing to spend their dollars in the U.S. A decline in overseas visitors could have significant long-term consequences for the economy, with travel and tourism one of the country's leading industries, contributing 2.5% to the gross domestic product, according to the U.S. Travel Association. "It's shaking everything up," said Hicham Jaddoud, professor of tourism at the University of Southern California Bovard College. "We have seen also how these tourists that used to come to the U.S. decide to change their direction are looking at different destinations ... That's gonna impact that return rate or the acquisition cost of consumers coming back to the U.S. There are a lot of concerns, obviously, and they're all backed by data and numbers." How is the travel industry being impacted? Earlier this year, the National Trade and Tourism Office predicted a positive forecast for 2025's international visitor numbers. Over the past several years, travel to the United States has been steadily increasing, with last year seeing 72.4 million international arrivals, up from 66.3 million in 2023. However, the U.S. tourism industry is already starting to see a flurry of cancellations across the board, from business to leisure and family travel. "That cancellation impacts, obviously, hotel reservations, restaurants, every element that deals with tourism," said Jaddoud. In 2024, spending by international visitors generated $2.9 trillion in economic output. It supported 15 million jobs, from the more obvious hotel workers to indirect services like taxi drivers, according to the U.S. Travel Association. Canadian travelers alone spent $20.5 billion, and just a 10% reduction could mean a loss of $2.1 billion. https://eu.usatoday.com/story/trave...rnational-travelers-avoid-the-us/82979308007/
"USA TODAY Tourists detained by ICE say they were treated like 'the worst criminal' Uncommon detainees are bringing new attention to the U.S. immigration detention system Story Summary Amid an immigration crackdown, detention facilities have become overcrowded. These uncommon detainees are decrying ICE detention conditions. A British backpacker. A Harvard researcher. A Canadian actress. An Australian mixed martial arts coach. Dozens of international college students. The Trump administration's sweeping immigration-and-visa crackdown has begun ensnaring a class of people long-accustomed to being welcomed with open arms into the United States. And those uncommon detainees are bringing new attention to the often-harsh U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement detention system, where people can be held without charge indefinitely, sometimes in shocking conditions, or abruptly removed from the country. Now, with Trump's crackdown, native English speakers, people with PhDs, and others are getting the word out to a broader public about a system they describe as arbitrary and punishing ‒ although ICE detention is not supposed to resemble prison. "It's insane how easily someone can take away your freedom, lock you in a federal prison, without a clear reason. No explanation. No warning," Australian MMA coach Renato Subotic wrote in an Instagram post after being detained in early April. "Just like that, you’re treated like the worst criminal." https://eu.usatoday.com/story/news/...tention-border-trump-immigration/82740260007/
"MSN US border force 'mistakenly detain' tourist in federal prison cell with 'p*** and blood-stained mattress' An Australian MMA coach has claimed he was mistakenly detained in a federal jail where he was put in a cell with a mattress stained with "p*** and blood" before getting into a fight with inmates. Renato Subotic alleged he was forced into a prison nightmare after touching down in the US ahead of a seminar. But what was meant to be a business trip soon took a dark turn when he was stopped at the border and put in an isolation room for three hours. His shocking account, shared on his Instagram page, claimed he was stripped of his clothes, forced to don a prison uniform before being put in handcuffs and taken to a federal prison. "Immigration pulled me aside and took me into an isolated room," Mr Subotic said. "The officer interviewing me me looked like he was looking for something wrong. It was obvious why I was in the US I gave them every specific detail about my seminar, my plans, everything. "They kept me in that room for three hours, asking endless questions, I was collaborative. They told me there was a mistake with my visa and that they were taking me to jail 'until they figure out what’s next.' Just like that. No clear explanation, no chance to talk to anyone, no rights. "They handcuffed me, put me in a car, and drove me to federal prison. They stripped me of everything. Took my clothes, gave me jail clothes, fingerprinted me, took photos, searched me. Gave me a blanket and sheet. Then they walked me to my block — 4B. "The moment the door opened, it was chaos. Fights between gangs. People screaming. Arguing over food, what to watch on TV, crazy people running around. Madness. The guard walked me to cell 221, where there was a filthy mattress with patches of p*** and blood." Mr Subotic claimed he went to get food and found detainees "beating the hell out of one another" before he returned to his cell where he found two men were stealing his blanket, leading to an altercation. When a guard responded to the commotion, Mr Subotic alleges he said: "You got a good welcome. Keep your head straight or you're gonna stay here longer." He continued: "At the airport, they kept me in a room without telling me when I'd fly. Eventually, I got info: I was being deported. An officer walked me to the plane. "Before taking off the handcuffs, he looked at me and said: 'I’m sorry this happened to you. They messed up big. It shouldn’t have gone this way.' The whole experience was unreal. It's insane how easily someone can take away your freedom, lock you in a federal prison, without a clear reason. No explanation. No warning. Just like that, you're treated like the worst criminal." Mr Subotic said he believed in "respecting the rules" but said it was overkill to be put in prison for missing a detail in a visa application. He then revealed he was back in Australia and would speak to lawyers to see if anything could be done regarding his treatment. "Hope this never happens to nobody else," he added." https://www.msn.com/en-us/crime/gen...with-p-and-blood-stained-mattress/ar-AA1CofII A REAL Genius running the show. So sorry bout all this. This is NOT America. This is a one man freak show.
"The Guardian I’m the Canadian who was detained by Ice for two weeks. It felt like I had been kidnapped I was stuck in a freezing cell without explanation despite eventually having lawyers and media attention. Yet, compared with others, I was lucky There was no explanation, no warning. One minute, I was in an immigration office talking to an officer about my work visa, which had been approved months before and allowed me, a Canadian, to work in the US. The next, I was told to put my hands against the wall, and patted down like a criminal before being sent to an Ice detention center without the chance to talk to a lawyer. I started working in California and travelled back and forth between Canada and the US multiple times without any complications – until one day, upon returning to the US, a border officer questioned me about my initial visa denial and subsequent visa approval. He asked why I had gone to the San Diego border the second time to apply. I explained that that was where my lawyer’s offices were, and that he had wanted to accompany me to ensure there were no issues. After a long interrogation, the officer told me it seemed “shady” and that my visa hadn’t been properly processed. He claimed I also couldn’t work for a company in the US that made use of hemp – one of the beverage ingredients. He revoked my visa, and told me I could still work for the company from Canada, but if I wanted to return to the US, I would need to reapply. I was devastated; I had just started building a life in California. I stayed in Canada for the next few months, and was eventually offered a similar position with a different health and wellness brand. I restarted the visa process and returned to the same immigration office at the San Diego border, since they had processed my visa before and I was familiar with it. Hours passed, with many confused opinions about my case. The officer I spoke to was kind but told me that, due to my previous issues, I needed to apply for my visa through the consulate. I told her I hadn’t been aware I needed to apply that way, but had no problem doing it. Then she said something strange: “You didn’t do anything wrong. You are not in trouble, you are not a criminal.” I remember thinking: Why would she say that? Of course I’m not a criminal! She then told me they had to send me back to Canada. That didn’t concern me; I assumed I would simply book a flight home. But as I sat searching for flights, a man approached me. “Come with me,” he said. There was no explanation, no warning. He led me to a room, took my belongings from my hands and ordered me to put my hands against the wall. A woman immediately began patting me down. The commands came rapid-fire, one after another, too fast to process. They took my shoes and pulled out my shoelaces. “What are you doing? What is happening?” I asked. “You are being detained.” “I don’t understand. What does that mean? For how long?” “I don’t know.” That would be the response to nearly every question I would ask over the next two weeks: “I don’t know.” They brought me downstairs for a series of interviews and medical questions, searched my bags and told me I had to get rid of half my belongings because I couldn’t take everything with me. “Take everything with me where?” I asked. A woman asked me for the name of someone they could contact on my behalf. In moments like this, you realize you don’t actually know anyone’s phone number anymore. By some miracle, I had recently memorized my best friend Britt’s number because I had been putting my grocery points on her account. I gave them her phone number. They handed me a mat and a folded-up sheet of aluminum foil. “What is this?” “Your blanket.” “I don’t understand.” I was taken to a tiny, freezing cement cell with bright fluorescent lights and a toilet. There were five other women lying on their mats with the aluminum sheets wrapped over them, looking like dead bodies. The guard locked the door behind me. For two days, we remained in that cell, only leaving briefly for food. The lights never turned off, we never knew what time it was and no one answered our questions. No one in the cell spoke English, so I either tried to sleep or meditate to keep from having a breakdown. I didn’t trust the food, so I fasted, assuming I wouldn’t be there long. On the third day, I was finally allowed to make a phone call. I called Britt and told her that I didn’t understand what was happening, that no one would tell me when I was going home, and that she was my only contact. They gave me a stack of paperwork to sign and told me I was being given a five-year ban unless I applied for re-entry through the consulate. The officer also said it didn’t matter whether I signed the papers or not; it was happening regardless. I was so delirious that I just signed. I told them I would pay for my flight home and asked when I could leave. No answer. Then they moved me to another cell – this time with no mat or blanket. I sat on the freezing cement floor for hours. That’s when I realized they were processing me into real jail: the Otay Mesa Detention Center. I was told to shower, given a jail uniform, fingerprinted and interviewed. I begged for information. “How long will I be here?” “I don’t know your case,” the man said. “Could be days. Could be weeks. But I’m telling you right now – you need to mentally prepare yourself for months.” Months. I felt like I was going to throw up. I was then placed in a real jail unit: two levels of cells surrounding a common area, just like in the movies. I was put in a tiny cell alone with a bunk bed and a toilet. The best part: there were blankets. After three days without one, I wrapped myself in mine and finally felt some comfort. For the first day, I didn’t leave my cell. I continued fasting, terrified that the food might make me sick. The only available water came from the tap attached to the toilet in our cells or a sink in the common area, neither of which felt safe to drink. At 3am the next day, I was woken up in my cell. “Pack your bag. You’re leaving.” I jolted upright. “I get to go home?” The officer shrugged. “I don’t know where you’re going.” Of course. No one ever knew anything. I grabbed my things and went downstairs, where 10 other women stood in silence, tears streaming down their faces. But these weren’t happy tears. That was the moment I learned the term “transferred”. For many of these women, detention centers had become a twisted version of home. They had formed bonds, established routines and found slivers of comfort in the friendships they had built. Now, without warning, they were being torn apart and sent somewhere new. Watching them say goodbye, clinging to each other, was gut-wrenching. I had no idea what was waiting for me next. In hindsight, that was probably for the best. Our next stop was Arizona, the San Luis Regional Detention Center. The transfer process lasted 24 hours, a sleepless, grueling ordeal. This time, men were transported with us. Roughly 50 of us were crammed into a prison bus for the next five hours, packed together – women in the front, men in the back. We were bound in chains that wrapped tightly around our waists, with our cuffed hands secured to our bodies and shackles restraining our feet, forcing every movement into a slow, clinking struggle. When we arrived at our next destination, we were forced to go through the entire intake process all over again, with medical exams, fingerprinting – and pregnancy tests; they lined us up in a filthy cell, squatting over a communal toilet, holding Dixie cups of urine while the nurse dropped pregnancy tests in each of our cups. It was disgusting. We sat in freezing-cold jail cells for hours, waiting for everyone to be processed. Across the room, one of the women suddenly spotted her husband. They had both been detained and were now seeing each other for the first time in weeks. The look on her face – pure love, relief and longing – was something I’ll never forget. We were beyond exhausted. I felt like I was hallucinating. The guard tossed us each a blanket: “Find a bed.” There were no pillows. The room was ice cold, and one blanket wasn’t enough. Around me, women lay curled into themselves, heads covered, looking like a room full of corpses. This place made the last jail feel like the Four Seasons. I kept telling myself: Do not let this break you. Thirty of us shared one room. We were given one Styrofoam cup for water and one plastic spoon that we had to reuse for every meal. I eventually had to start trying to eat and, sure enough, I got sick. None of the uniforms fit, and everyone had men’s shoes on. The towels they gave us to shower were hand towels. They wouldn’t give us more blankets. The fluorescent lights shined on us 24/7. Everything felt like it was meant to break you. Nothing was explained to us. I wasn’t given a phone call. We were locked in a room, no daylight, with no idea when we would get out. I tried to stay calm as every fiber of my being raged towards panic mode. I didn’t know how I would tell Britt where I was. Then, as if sent from God, one of the women showed me a tablet attached to the wall where I could send emails. I only remembered my CEO’s email from memory. I typed out a message, praying he would see it. He responded. Through him, I was able to connect with Britt. She told me that they were working around the clock trying to get me out. But no one had any answers; the system made it next to impossible. I told her about the conditions in this new place, and that was when we decided to go to the media. She started working with a reporter and asked whether I would be able to call her so she could loop him in. The international phone account that Britt had previously tried to set up for me wasn’t working, so one of the other women offered to let me use her phone account to make the call. We were all in this together. It felt like we had all been kidnapped, thrown into some sort of sick psychological experiment meant to strip us of every ounce of strength and dignity. My Ice agent, who had never spoken to me, told my lawyer I could have left sooner if I had signed a withdrawal form, and that they hadn’t known I would pay for my own flight home. From the moment I arrived, I begged every officer I saw to let me pay for my own ticket home. Not a single one of them ever spoke to me about my case. To put things into perspective: I had a Canadian passport, lawyers, resources, media attention, friends, family and even politicians advocating for me. Yet, I was still detained for nearly two weeks. Imagine what this system is like for every other person in there. A small group of us were transferred back to San Diego at 2am – one last road trip, once again shackled in chains. I was then taken to the airport, where two officers were waiting for me. The media was there, so the officers snuck me in through a side door, trying to avoid anyone seeing me in restraints. I was beyond grateful that, at the very least, I didn’t have to walk through the airport in chains. To my surprise, the officers escorting me were incredibly kind, and even funny. It was the first time I had laughed in weeks. I asked if I could put my shoelaces back on. “Yes,” one of them said with a grin. “But you better not run.” “Yeah,” the other added. “Or we’ll have to tackle you in the airport. That’ll really make the headlines.” I laughed, then told them I had spent a lot of time observing the guards during my detention and I couldn’t believe how often I saw humans treating other humans with such disregard. “But don’t worry,” I joked. “You two get five stars.” When I finally landed in Canada, my mom and two best friends were waiting for me. So was the media. I spoke to them briefly, numb and delusional from exhaustion. It was surreal listening to my friends recount everything they had done to get me out: working with lawyers, reaching out to the media, making endless calls to detention centers, desperately trying to get through to Ice or anyone who could help. They said the entire system felt rigged, designed to make it nearly impossible for anyone to get out. The reality became clear: Ice detention isn’t just a bureaucratic nightmare. It’s a business. These facilities are privately owned and run for profit. Companies like CoreCivic and GEO Group receive government funding based on the number of people they detain, which is why they lobby for stricter immigration policies. It’s a lucrative business: CoreCivic made over $560m from Ice contracts in a single year. In 2024, GEO Group made more than $763m from Ice contracts. The more detainees, the more money they make. It stands to reason that these companies have no incentive to release people quickly. What I had experienced was finally starting to make sense. This is not just my story. It is the story of thousands and thousands of people still trapped in a system that profits from their suffering. I am writing in the hope that someone out there – someone with the power to change any of this – can help do something." https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2025/mar/19/canadian-detained-us-immigration-jasmine-mooney Thats her. Shameful. Just shameful beyond words. Looks like a real tough Venezuelan, pet eating, shooting, looting and raping gang member doesn't she. Really like in Russia. Corruption enriching Big Leader / Trumps buddies, while costing the larger country / US tourism industry as a whole. Word about this new border regime spreading like a wildfire round the world, with many countries, former allies of ours until Trump alienated all of em, actually expressing TRAVEL WARNINGS to their citizens about visiting the USA !!! Dunno how many people have approached me about this in recent days, and how many are gonna cancel vacations in the US from all over the world, the numbers have started declining already. Just to repeat from the first article: "The U.S. tourism industry is already starting to see a flurry of cancellations across the board, from business to leisure and family travel. "That cancellation impacts, obviously, hotel reservations, restaurants, every element that deals with tourism," said Jaddoud. In 2024, spending by international visitors generated $2.9 trillion in economic output. It supported 15 million jobs, from the more obvious hotel workers to indirect services like taxi drivers, according to the U.S. Travel Association. Canadian travelers alone spent $20.5 billion, and just a 10% reduction could mean a loss of $2.1 billion."