You know you’re upper middle class when your “budget” vacation is still one of these 8 destinations

There’s a funny truth about travel: one person’s “budget” trip is another person’s “splurge.”

If you grew up in a working-class household, a “budget” vacation might have meant camping in the backyard, piling into the family minivan for a road trip, or staying with relatives a few hours away.

But for the upper middle class, even the word budget tends to come with air quotes. Their scaled-back vacations still involve boarding passes, curated experiences, and destinations most people see as aspirational.

This isn’t about judging—it’s about noticing. Our psychology around money and status shows up most clearly in how we frame our “savings.” And nowhere is that more obvious than in the way upper middle-class travelers define a “cheap” getaway.

Let’s get into it.

1) Mexico (but not the border towns)

Ask someone who considers themselves thrifty where they’re going this summer and you might hear “Mexico.”

But they don’t mean Tijuana or a quick cross-border taco run. They’re talking about Tulum, Puerto Vallarta, or Cabo San Lucas. Resorts where the infinity pools are curated for Instagram and the lobbies smell like eucalyptus.

Flights are short from most U.S. cities, and the exchange rate can work in your favor. That’s how the narrative becomes: This is actually cheaper than staying stateside.

Of course, the “budget” part is relative. Spa treatments, craft cocktails, and cenote excursions don’t exactly scream frugality. But psychology plays a role here: compared to a Maldives honeymoon or a Paris week, Mexico feels like a financial compromise.

And that’s the trick of relative value—something behavioral economists call “anchoring.” If you anchor against luxury trips that cost $10k, then a $3k week in Cabo suddenly feels like a bargain.

2) Europe in the off-season

Here’s the psychology: if you fly to Europe in February or March, it feels like a steal.

Upper middle-class travelers love to rationalize this way. They’ll say, “Flights were under $500! Hotels were half off!” And sure, compared to peak summer rates, off-season Europe is a deal.

But let’s be real—most people aren’t casually jetting to Paris in February, discount or not. The ability to pick a random week in the shoulder season to explore Rome or Barcelona is still a luxury.

I once did Amsterdam in January. On the plus side, no crowds at the Van Gogh Museum. On the minus side, my fingers nearly froze trying to snap photos of the canals. Still, I caught myself telling friends: “It was actually cheaper than going to New York that week.” That’s the framing at work.

Behaviorally, it’s classic reframing: the cold, dark days aren’t seen as a drawback, they’re reframed as the price you pay for saving money.

3) Hawaii

When most people think “budget,” they think road trip, not a five-hour flight to the middle of the Pacific.

But for the upper middle class, Hawaii is framed as the domestic escape. No passport required, technically U.S. soil, and “it’s cheaper than Bora Bora.”

Here’s the thing: you can say you’re doing Hawaii on a budget, but by the time you’ve factored in rental cars, $20 açai bowls, and that helicopter tour your kids begged for, you’re already in the realm of major spending.

I once tried the “budget” version by staying at a hostel in Oahu. Shared kitchen, dorm-style bunks, the whole thing. And even then, I walked away thinking: this is not how most people define cheap. It’s paradise, but paradise rarely discounts itself all the way.

The psychological layer here is justification. If you can label Hawaii as affordable compared to French Polynesia, it eases the guilt. And guilt management is half the battle in how we spend.

4) Costa Rica

If you’ve noticed the rise of eco-tourism retreats, yoga getaways, and “working remotely from paradise” posts on LinkedIn, you’ve already seen Costa Rica’s branding at work.

It’s considered the adventurous budget choice for the upper middle class. A week in Tamarindo or Nosara gives you bragging rights about surfing lessons, ziplining, and rain forest hikes—all under the banner of “we skipped Europe this year to save money.”

But notice what’s happening here: it’s adventure travel that feels rustic, but is still curated and safe. The lodges have Wi-Fi, the tours have insurance, and the smoothies are organic. That’s a very different kind of “budget” than backpacking Guatemala or Nicaragua.

What’s fascinating is how Costa Rica leverages the psychology of safe risk. You get to feel adventurous without actually risking too much discomfort. That balance is exactly why it appeals to this demographic.

5) Iceland

This one fascinates me most. I’ve heard friends say, “We did Iceland because it was cheaper than going anywhere else in Europe.”

Technically, those budget flights make it sound true. But once you land, everything else costs a fortune. Gas. Food. Even water bottles at a gas station.

Yet the upper middle class reframes it: “We rented a camper van to save money, and it was the best experience.” Sure—but those camper vans run nearly the price of a Manhattan studio rental.

Don’t get me wrong—Iceland’s landscapes are jaw-dropping. I once stood in front of Gullfoss waterfall and felt like I was in another world. But the idea that it’s a budget trip says more about perception than numbers.

And that’s the point: perception often trumps reality. If you frame it as “cheap compared to Switzerland,” you’ll believe it, even if your credit card statement says otherwise.

6) Bali

A true tell.

Flights to Bali aren’t cheap, but once you’re there, everything feels like a steal compared to Western prices. That’s the psychology that turns this into the upper middle class’s “budget exotic” vacation.

Daily massages for under $20? Upscale vegan cafes for the price of a sandwich in Los Angeles? Villas with infinity pools that, on Instagram, look like you sold your startup to afford them?

I went years ago and stretched my money like never before. But I also noticed the kind of travelers Bali attracts—people who see it as a way to buy temporary luxury at a fraction of the cost.

For upper middle-class travelers, Bali becomes the story of “living like royalty for less.” But the deeper psychology is about status signaling. Posting Bali photos signals worldliness, spirituality, and luxury—while still being able to say, “It was so cheap compared to Europe.”

7) Greece

Greece hits that sweet spot between cultural prestige and perceived affordability.

Flights can sometimes be less than a trip across the U.S., and Airbnb villas with sea views seem shockingly affordable compared to Hawaii resorts. That makes it easy for the upper middle class to spin it as the smarter financial choice.

What’s left unsaid is that most working families aren’t picking Santorini as their “budget” week off. They’re going to the closest beach with a drivable motel.

Still, I’ll admit—there’s nothing quite like the shock of walking into a whitewashed alleyway in Mykonos and realizing it looks exactly like the postcards. That sense of “I can’t believe I’m here” never really goes away.

Behaviorally, Greece appeals because it hits multiple psychological levers: prestige, beauty, and relative affordability.That trifecta makes it one of the ultimate “budget but not really budget” destinations.

8) A domestic “cultural city break”

Think New Orleans, Nashville, Austin, Portland.

These trips get described as “budget-friendly” because they don’t require international flights. But once you’re deep in the artisan cocktail bars, boutique hotels, and live music venues, the costs rival a Caribbean vacation.

What’s really happening is that the upper middle class sees these getaways as accessible luxuries. They feel cultured, trendy, and justifiable. If you tack on the line “we used points for the flights,” it seals the narrative.

I did this myself with a quick Portland trip once. What was supposed to be “three cheap nights” ended up being a blur of vegan food trucks, vinyl record shopping, and photography walks that cost more than I’d planned. Still worth it.

From a psychology angle, this is the proximity bias at work. Because it’s domestic, we downplay the costs and exaggerate the value. But the receipts tell another story.

The bottom line

When we call a vacation “budget,” what we’re really saying is: budget compared to what we normally do.

For the upper middle class, that baseline is already higher. A downgraded trip still looks like luxury from the outside. That’s not necessarily a bad thing—it’s just worth noticing.

If anything, these choices reveal more about psychology than money. It’s about anchoring, reframing, and the subtle ways we justify our decisions.

So, the next time someone tells you they’re doing a “cheap trip,” listen closely. Their definition might say more about their lifestyle—and their psychology—than the destination itself.