Where Death Lies
Each year, the Japanese government expects dozens of people to die from eating ill-prepared blowfish, and yet the dish remains a delicacy.
Each year, the Japanese government expects dozens of people to die from eating ill-prepared blowfish, and yet the dish remains a delicacy.
Some of the world’s largest, oldest fish live in Oregon. Why anyone would want to vandalize them, even abduct them, takes explaining.
Los Angeles drivers love to leave notes on windshields—passive-aggressive, or just plain aggressive. A vigilante sets out to communicate politely with the city.
The World Cup and its drunken fans are about to crash head-first into a repressive, restrictive society, where alcohol is illegal mostly everywhere.
Studying drivers across the country for signs of license-plate prejudice—or, why everyone loves Vermont drivers and hates Texans.
According to economists, if intelligent life elsewhere wants to kidnap earthlings, there must be a reason—and a business model.
A conversation with Sarah Hepola, author of the bestselling Blackout, about investigating the worst kind of memories—those you never had.
A near-death experience makes this week’s International Asteroid Day a little more tricky to celebrate.
The American West is a myth. One Wyoming gunmaker looks anywhere else—abroad, in the past, in himself—for new wilderness.
A day in the life of a professional orchestra—coffee, practice, social media, tuxedo—leading up to a performance.
Class isn’t supposed to exist in America, unless it’s overcome. But the art of being upwardly mobile doesn’t always come easy.
We asked people around the globe—in Uganda, Ecuador, Fiji, and more—to make food from the opposite side of Earth.
Where there’s smoke, there’s smuggling. Before the Ukrainian border became a dangerous war zone, it was a profitable bootlegging arena.
In Woodstock, Ill., where “Groundhog Day” was filmed, hundreds of fans gather every year, year after year, to celebrate their favorite movie.
A visit to the granddaddy of Japan’s capsule hotels—with cot-sized individual spaces and shared amenities—and a lesson in different methods of getting along.
An American in Dijon, France, brings his country’s grasp of recent terrorism to a nation enthralled by theory, traumatized by attack.
Before the days of GPS, sailors navigated using the feel of the waves. On a mission to learn the ocean's secret rhythms, a researcher discovers a coded message in a ship logbook.
At an Elvis festival in rural Canada, scores of tribute artists (not "impersonators") pay homage to the King. When searching for the meaning of it all, try not to overthink it.
Consider the Delta smelt: an old fish in California, endemic to the upper Sacramento-San Joaquin Estuary, now caught between its home and thousands of drought-stricken acres.
People living in countries that aren’t the US explain the meaning of Thanksgiving, from the splendor of “harvest day” to the tradition that is gun violence.
How to spend a holiday alone and not get lonely, with adventures in BBQ, books, rummage shops, and cabin porn.
Brief updates to news stories that have slipped off the front page. This week: Smoking lounges at Reynolds American, Hugh Hefner’s hibernation, and the financial disasters that are Olympic Games.
Orangutans are some of humans’ closest relatives, genetically. They also rarely exhibit aggression, despite how we've abused them. One is different.
What I end up saying when I try to explain to people, and myself, why I bought a vacation house in Detroit.
Indian culture is under siege by Westerners enamored with yoga, authenticity, and convenience. The dosa—a beloved, inconvenient tradition—could be next to fall.
Nobody stands between one cyclist and her cheese on a vegetable-fueled bike tour through Eastern Europe.
Stranded on a desert island, a panel of self-help authors must rely on their wits and catchphrases to survive.
Humans have kept elephants for thousands of years, longer than we've domesticated chickens. Yet the great animals’ capacity to cry for freedom comes as a shock.
In search of a remedy for MS, a journey out of the gridlock of America’s health system and into the jungles of Belize, where medicine men promise cures for everything that ails you.
A new series where we ask a novelist to eat in a restaurant, then write us something that meets two criteria: 1) it is a restaurant review; 2) it is not a restaurant review.
The Thirteenth Amendment passed 150 years ago, abolishing slavery. Today, little of the Underground Railroad still remains. A painter hits the road to discover what’s intact.
Returning to America after five years in the Middle East calls for a no-sleep jaunt back to Beirut for drinking, partying, and tying up loose ends.
The present-day lust for ruins is nothing new. In fact, it’s nearly as old as any ruins themselves. From a flattened Louvre to Percy Bysshe Shelley, a journey to the dawn of ruin porn.
Two men, separated by more than 150 years, discover the folly of attempting Western-style capitalism in Micronesia.
Across generations, when children can’t find their comfort objects—usually soft toys like blankets or favorite stuffed animals—all hell breaks loose.
As New York real estate prices skyrocket, it’s time to head where no gentrifier has gone before.
Travel is mostly boredom—and if you’re not bored, you’re pretty sure that everyone else is having more fun. Selected for “The Best American Travel Writing 2014,” the woes of professional travel writers.
Mumbai could be thought of as New York, LA, and Lagos all wrapped into one. But a string of rapes changes all that.
More and more, we communicate today in short bursts of text. Letters may be dead, but we still write to each other constantly. A man considers what could be his last words to his children from a departing airplane.
When a vacation rental doesn’t live up to expectations, when that “charming Montauk cabin” turns out to be a shed, one family’s solution is passive-aggressive guestbook commentary.
A literary gumshoe visits St. Petersburg to track down the so-called “ninja of Russian verse,” Elena Shvarts, who died in 2010 leaving almost nothing behind.
The recent ho-hum reaction to the purchase and ensuing buyback of Frommer’s obscures one key fact: Guidebooks are creators of social change. A defense of their place in the canon.
Micro-living is no longer just for the very poor and the very bohemian. But how much space do we really deserve? Tracking down the minimum square-footage below which no one should be forced to endure.
As New York City changes, so do its trains; our worries about life above and below ground move hand in hand. So which came first, the jitters or the subway?
After six months in Leipzig, a German reporter asks the novelist what he’ll miss. But it’s back here in the United States where more dangerous questions take shape, none easily answered with good beer.
Growing up in Ohio, far from the homeland of her parents, a girl puzzles over her identity, until the strings of a sitar create a connection.
New Yorkers don't fade away—they just move. But to where? From Miami to Austin to Berlin, detailed maps of nearly every other significant city's neighborhoods show ex-pats exactly where to emigrate.
The world of the myope is often a nicer place—faces lack wrinkles, and trees seem to be painted by Monet. Then, during a visit to Moscow, a black spot appears.
The United States is a huge country, much too big for the nightly news. Our series continues where one of our editors randomly calls people in small towns around America to find out what’s really going on.
Even in the most forsaken corners of the Caucasus, daily life can boil down to domestic turmoil, hip-hop videos, and arguing over Bryan Adams’s nationality.
More than a decade after the U.S. invasion of Afghanistan—now our longest war—most Americans still know next to nothing about the people who live there, and the liberties denied them. Lessons from a rapid education.
The great American wilderness is home to hungry stomachs, including some that reside in animals weighing 600 pounds more than you.
How do you see what mushers see? You mush. An adventure on the Beringia, a dog sled race stretching over Russia’s easternmost tundra. If in the process you see more than you ever expected—more of humanity, more of yourself—then thank the people of 685 miles of snow.
Registering everything from fitness levels to sleep patterns, personal tracking devices satisfy our desire for self-knowledge. But when we hand control to our holograms, we may be surprised at what they want.
Stunt memoirs are ubiquitous: writers who eat, pray, and love straight into their bank accounts. But what happens when the material for your book—for which you took a dozen amusement park jobs to acquire—isn’t all hijinks and zany locals? What if it’s rather nice?
Artist colonies are mysterious places. Available only to a select few, supposedly teeming with alcohol, affairs, and creative hoodoo. But the rumors aren't true—they just lack detail. Scenes and lessons from three residencies.
Rules are strict. Instructions are confusing, intimidating. Are your possessions “unclean” and therefore banned? Will you survive? A guide through the rules and corporate yatter of London’s sparkling Olympic mess.
For Americans, invitations to Israel—with lavish parties, higher education, and United Airlines tote bags—come easy. But if your homeland lies elsewhere, Israel’s welcome is far less loving.
Every summer, many are injured when bulls run the streets in Spain. A report from inside one man’s skull before the rocket goes off.
The next time jet lag ruins your day—exhausted, yawning, blurry-eyed, fiending for any means of correction—what if you were to stop looking for a cure inside purgatory and, instead, embrace the cloud?
The thing you’ve come to Sevilla to see is the ritualized killing of bulls. What you also see: ancient architecture, handsome crowds, enormous animals, glittering suits, red capes, long swords, tradition.
Being overseas, the traveler is often taken for a diplomat—to explain his native country’s strange ways and beliefs. For example, why do all Americans belong to cults? What does Michelle Pfeiffer eat for breakfast? And why so many guns?
Our man in Boston talks to the Pulitzer-winning novelist about his new memoir, Thoughts Without Cigarettes, as well as nights in New York, parks in Berlin, how publishing currently compares to Indian restaurants, what life would be like if Mambo Kings hadn't hit it big, and the difficulties of writ
A two-week journey across the US—specifically towns named Paris, with a clipboard and a hundred questionnaires—to uncover what Americans think about the French.
Twenty years ago—or even 10—Nashville was falling to the bottom of any list of top U.S. destinations. Music City's recent resurgence is a reminder of what Americans really value.
For 50 years, a fire has been raging in mining tunnels beneath Centralia, Pa. With the town mostly evacuated long ago, what’s left? Mostly journalists and other outsiders looking in.
For some Americans, the French way of life is best. Other people simply prefer "freedom fries." A two-week journey across the U.S.—passing through a handful of towns named Paris—to find out what Americans really think about France today. (Part three of four.)
For some Americans, the French way of life is best. Other people simply prefer "freedom fries." A two-week journey across the U.S.—passing through a handful of towns named Paris—to find out what Americans really think about France today. (Part two of four.)
For some Americans, the French way of life is best. Others simply prefer "freedom fries." A two-week journey across the U.S.—passing through a handful of towns named Paris—to find out what Americans really think about France today. (Parts one through three of four.)
Some decisions are best made heedlessly, based on the chance for an epic story—and some people think like that all the time. A report on what it’s like to slide down a volcano on a piece of sheet metal at 55 mph.
More than two decades later, a return visit to Tiananmen Square finds it scrubbed clean—just as it was immediately following the Incident. Except now there is thick smog, and ghosts. In contemporary Beijing, the past is like Kentucky Fried Chicken: unavoidable.
When you’re 16 and searching, Jack Kerouac’s urge to hit the road can seem inspired, or at least inspiring. Later, you wonder if his literature was actually early-onset LiveJournal. Later still, On the Road deserves one more look.
Life in Newfoundland is changing. Nostalgia abounds for simpler, harder times, and outsiders are required to kiss cod on the mouth. But not everyone’s drinking the rum.
People say you can never go home again. But you can go back on vacation. Notes on the specific tragedy that occurs when, revisiting the great national parks of your childhood, you realize all your memories of the wild derive from gift shops.
Cruising and boozing around Uzbekistan, a Canadian reporter winds up in a place that gives no logical reason to visit, where the question “why?” has no answer. Fortunately, virtual travel remains risk-free, except for all the beer.
If distractions poison a writer’s ambitions, then surely a summer with no internet access is the antidote?
Cities are full of noise and scuffle, and they don’t always reveal their history. Armed with a fistful of maps from 1901 and a smartphone bristling with data-recording apps, one man tries to uncover a city’s secrets.
The deserts of Morocco are wide and golden. Trust nearly 200 American college students to track down and guzzle whatever alcohol lurks in the sands of the Islamic kingdom.
For centuries, the Camino de Santiago has drawn religious pilgrims to northern Spain. But those guys never did it with walkie-talkies, GPS, taxis, and Wonder Bread.
From coast to coast, through bickering passengers and aggressive tumbleweeds, we've crisscrossed the U.S.--and often ended up in New York. For your next road trip, a guide to what you'll see along the way.
Every flea market has a bin of found postcards for sale. Some notes, however, wait to be mailed.
Maps are useful in jungles, classrooms, and when you need to cross a bombing ground during a storm. But they’re pointless when love implodes.
Romance is in the air during February, especially when the air smells vaguely European.
Six months after an earthquake shook Haiti to its core, our woman in Haiti seeks out what lies beneath the rubble and finds a history of violence and striking beauty.
In Cuba, bloggers face reprisals and internet access is governed by mysterious forces. Even telephones can't be trusted.
If gas was free, vacation days were unlimited, and your schedule was as open as the road ahead, where would you go? Our staff and readers unfold their maps.
There are plenty of good reasons to ride a train cross-country, but for our correspondent and his attention index, hitting the rails has one purpose: to escape the merciless internet.
Bus lines across New York are being rerouted this summer, if not cancelled--and where buses go, so goes the city.
We asked our staff and readers to rewrite the end of Lost. Spoiler alert! But not really, when you consider you'd have to flash-sideways to experience the alternative realities ahead.
The air conditioner puckers as the door closes. The landing gear creaks as the plane departs the jetway. Above your head, the call button dings.
Summer approaches, travel increases--and some people will kill you for photographing butterflies. Here's recent news on sightseeing, from Bangkok to Lars von Trier.
As we carve out weekends for summer vacations and welcome loved ones home from across the volcanic ash-strewn pond, our staff and readers share their hard-earned trip advice.
By now, the financial crisis has touched nearly every corner of the population. But only recently has the Order of the Blood of Thoth felt the pinch.
Having biked with the protesters, drank with the locals, and trained in a battalion to fight riot police, Mike Deri Smith sums up the clusterfail that was Copenhagen.
For agents and publishers, the Frankfurt Book Fair is publishing's biggest event: part conclave, mostly marathon, and all business. It is absolutely no place for an aspiring author, as we discover.
Nearly 20 years after reunification, a trip into the German countryside finds that the past persists: murder and prostitutes and birthday parties, and plenty of wild boar.
Eight years later, we continue to struggle with September 11, the day our city was attacked. A report from a more remote position: aboard a military vessel in the Arctic Circle.
Everyone knows a relative who dabbles in conspiracy theories. For one writer, seeing her brother be targeted by a global cabal—and develop schizophrenia—was all too real.
After three-quarters of a century, a quintessential shirt picks up a lot of baggage—some good, some ironically so, all obsession-worthy.
Those who can't do, learn. In this installment of our series in which the clueless apprentice with the experts, we get licensed, wake up very early, and track turkeys in the woods.