While researching an upcoming trip to Palau, a tiny island nation dotting Micronesia’s western edge, I found endless information about its famed mushroom-shaped Rock Islands and spectacular diving sites, including over 50 World War II wrecks.
But what I discovered upon arrival was a destination eager to highlight something else: its rich culture on solid land.
The remote archipelago’s efforts to encourage activities like village tours and traditional handicraft workshops appears to be helping tourism rebound from pandemic-era lows. Visitor numbers have surged from about 5,000 in 2021 to more than 50,000 in 2024, according to the country’s visitors authority. Chinese travelers lead the recovery despite recent diplomatic tensions.
“We’ve been known for our crystal clear water, but there’s more to see,” says Sean Tekriu, who welcomes visitors to Palau’s Badrulchau Stone Monoliths, one of the many land-based attractions touted by tourism officials. “We want to showcase our culture, our heritage and our lifestyle.”
Palau, a cluster of more than 300 islands, can be reached directly from several locations, including Macau; Hong Kong; Macau; the Philippines and Taiwan. It’s best known for its underwater landscapes, with 1,500 fish species and 400 hard corals.
Palauans are passionate about protecting these natural treasures and have designated 80% of their waters as a protected sanctuary — one of the highest proportions of any country. Upon entry, we were required to sign the “Palau Pledge” in our passports, promising to safeguard the environment for future generations.
Many visitors come to dive the historic wreckage — remains of the Japanese naval stronghold in the Pacific. One of the most notable relics is Iro Maru, a massive, 470-foot supply ship that rests upright with schools of lionfish and clownfish darting through its corridors.
Jellyfish Lake, once Palau’s most Instagrammable attraction, where snorkelers snapped selfies with throngs of harmless jellyfish, now lies nearly empty due to rising ocean temperatures. However, snorkelers, like myself, can still experience Palau’s marine beauty at sites like Ngemelis Wall, known as the Big Drop-Off. As I glided along the surface, I spotted swarms of vibrant fish and a nurse shark deep below, its silhouette growing fainter as the coral cliff plunged a thousand feet into darkness.
My peaceful float was interrupted by a sudden sharp sting on my knee. When I surfaced, I found it bleeding, with no obvious culprit. Only later, while reviewing my photos, did I discover my likely attacker: The notoriously aggressive, yellow-and-black Titan Triggerfish was caught in one frame, its mouth agape with tiny, razor-sharp teeth.
At Tebang Woodcarving Shop, artisans chronicle Palauan oral history through traditional carved wooden panels, or storyboards. Visitors can purchase these works of art, which can be up to 20 feet long, or take a class to learn how to craft their own.
“We have a passion for sharing our stories,” says McMichael Mutok Jr., who tries to preserve his country’s history through his work at the National Register. A common storyboard legend, he explains, is of the breadfruit tree, which details how jealousy over a magical fish-sprouting tree led to it being submerged underwater along with an entire island.
Dozens of storyboards are on display at the Etpison Museum, which also showcases Micronesian artifacts like giant Yapese stone currency. Both the Etpison and Belau National Museum feature a wealth of local history and customs, such as the “first childbirth” ceremony, a cleansing and healing ritual that celebrates first-time mothers. NICOLE EVATT, KOROR, MDT/AP
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