In 2012, what seems like a lifetime ago, I decided to go to Palau on a whim.
At the time, I knew nothing about Palau, other than it was the most obscure country I could think of and there were relatively cheap flights available from Manila.
Given I had to be in Manila for work anyway, this was a wonderful opportunity to go somewhere no-one else I knew had been to.
So I went to Palau. And I never want to go back.
Palau’s Rock Islands, Jellyfish Lake and snorkelling
This is not because I didn’t enjoy Palau, or because there’s not much to do. Quite to the contrary – I loved it and found it one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been to.
The green-topped Rock Islands standing on limestone perches out of the sea are unquestionably gorgeous. Swimming in the Jellyfish Lake, brimming with stingless jellyfish, is one of the most satisfyingly weird experiences you could ever ask for. The snorkelling is the best I’ve ever done, with pristinely clear lagoons and dramatic rock shelves to follow fish along.
It’s precisely because I loved it so much that I don’t want to go back. I fear the place I went to no longer exists.
What visiting Palau was like in 2012
When I visited in 2012, I flew on an airline – Continental – that has long since disappeared from the skies. There was next to no information online, and the only guide book I could find was written by a well-meaning but not especially thorough Peace Corps volunteer.
The new parliament building – an absurdly oversized pastiche of the US Capitol – had recently been opened on what was essentially a farmer’s field on the biggest island, Babeldaob.
I organised my accommodation via email, staying at the DW Motel in Koror. It was the sort of budget motel that construction workers hole up in. I’m surprised to see it still exists, now aiming at divers.
I had to book the tours I did via email, too. This was long after booking engines and comparison sites had taken over the rest of the world.
In short, my visit was an intoxicating dip back into the past of how tourism used to work. Palau was a beautiful, exotic shambles.
How Palau has changed
I don’t want to go back because I fear Palau will not be like that any more. Four Seasons and IHG have made their way into the accommodation market. Qantas has launched direct flights from Brisbane. I can book several tours through Viator.
I also know that Palau was on the cusp of a package tour boom, most notably from China, when I visited.
This all adds up to a much slicker, busier place than the one in my memory. In my head, there is no place in the world quite like it, and I’m happy for it to stay that way.
There’s every chance I could go back and have a lovely time again. But to return and find it’s now like any tropical holiday destination would be somewhat crushing. Sometimes it is better to cherish a memory than to break the spell by reassessing.
The places of no return
I suspect many of us have a place like this. Somewhere that felt so brilliantly different. For one reason or another, we’ve never been back, and now enough time has passed for it to feel best left as something special in the past.
I’ve broken such spells before. Cesky Krumlov in Czechia seemed heavingly overcrowded but pretty rather than a magical fairytale find second time around. San Francisco seemed scrappier and more functional. Marrakesh had higher levels of irritation, lower levels of bewildered wonder.
Should you go to Palau?
A brief blast of minor research shows that Palau may well still have much of its charm. Visitor numbers crashed after China banned package tours in 2017 because Palau continued to recognise Taiwan. There have also been striking and unusual gambits for promoting sustainable and environment-conscious tourism in Palau.
To anyone who hasn’t been before, I’d heartily recommend trying to get there. Your Palau will probably be incredible. But, importantly, it won’t be my Palau.
