Here comes private space travel — with cocktails, retro-futuristic Philippe Starck designs and Wi-Fi. Just $55 million a trip!

“Join our team on this special voyage that equips leaders with resources and actionable solutions to become a part of a global force of change.” This isn’t the description for Doctors Without Borders. It’s for a luxury Antarctic vacation expedition through the company Explorer’s Passage.

Are there any good books telling the story of imperialism/colonialism through food? Since reading Guns, Germs and Steel many years ago I have been fascinated with the origins of world food, especially when it highlights untold histories of civilisation. This article on 'How the Chili Pepper Got to China' reignites my fascination.

The fact that garlic was originally cultivated in Korea, or that coffee comes from Ethiopia is endlessly fascinating to me. A book which weaves the origin story of food, and follows those foods through their cultural uptake and imperial histories would be most enlightening.

On March 28, 2011, Kurt J. Mac opened a new game of Minecraft and started to walk — and he hasn't stopped. Nearly three years later, he's traveled seven hundred virtual kilometers in hopes of reaching the end of the Minecraft world, a mysterious place called the Far Lands.

With an eight-track tape recorder and 100,000 times less memory than an iPod, Voyager 1 is celebrating its 35th birthday at the edge of the solar system. Traipsing through a giant, turbulent, plasma bubble near the fringes, the longest-running, most-distant spacecraft in NASA's history celebrates a l

Tokyo Compression

A stonishing animals show up everywhere these days. Cooperative apes, grief-stricken elephants, empathetic cats and dogs crowd our bookshop shelves. It’s all the rage to plumb the cognitive and emotional depths of the animal world, rejecting sceptics’ sneers of “anthropomorphism” to insist that we’re finally coming to see animals for who they really are: not so different from us.

Pushing against this tide of animal awe is a competing cultural trope, the relentless seeking of human superiority. It’s from this second camp that Michael C. Corballis, a professor emeritus of psychology from New Zealand, has written The Recursive Mind: The origins of human language, thought, and civilization. Mental time travel and theory of mind, Corballis believes, are two uniquely human ways of thinking that propelled our species to heights above all others, thanks to what is called recursion.

by Daniel Rourke

Japan. That's where I am. With the rice-triangles and the tatami-mats and row upon row of vending machines. In a country where serving others is paramount, and where holidays are something that other people do, I find myself being served - on holiday... I am the ultimate gaijin 1 and every ticket I buy and photo I take seems to confirm this. I came to see Japan. But now I realise that the culture of seeing has been commodified into an experience in itself, and perhaps not an experience any of us are capable of moving beyond alone.

Please don't misunderstand me. I love Japan. I lived here from 2004 until 2006, teaching English on the outskirts of a medium sized city on the island of Kyushu. The experience enriched me, precisely because it tore me from my anchors. Because it helped me understand where I had come from. On the surface Japan behaves like the perfect machine, with all its components functioning within designated parameters. And what's more, that machine just seems to work, with hardly anyone screaming to get off. The Japanese are a nation in a very different sense to us Brits. And for a small-town, West Yorkshire boy like myself, being part of that nation, that huge entity, all be it for only 24 months of my life, is still one of my most humbling experiences. But even as I gush about Japan being here can often feel like toiling through an endless urban labyrinth. With little of cultural merit to distinguish the pachinko parlours from the snack bars and multi-storey car parks Japan can seem grey, shallow and everything but refined. But when it surprises you, whether you're picking blueberries in the mountains or being served delicate morsels of fish in the private room of your ryokan, Japan redefines the word privileged. I feel privileged to have lived here, I feel privileged to be travelling through it. Yet, keeping hold of that feeling is not always easy. The problem is not completely a Japanese one. Worldwide tourism has moulded, cast and set into faux-stone souvenirs the types of experiences we can access. Even those attempting to wind their own path through the deserts of Mongolia or the jungles of Brazil will occasionally find themselves face to face with a toll-booth and turnstile scrawled in badly translated English instructions. The forces of the free-market mean that being somewhere has come to mean "being near this particular cultural commodity". Any 21st century traveller who believes that they can get to the authentic heart of an experience will have to pay for a ticket somewhere along the track. Had the restless 17th century poet Matsuo Bashō known that his musings on the River Ōi would be turned into a set of commemorative face flannels he might very well have never set out on the road to Fuji:

In a wayIt was funNot to see Mount FujiIn foggy rain 2 Like Bashō I aim to plant myself in a place, more deeply than at the toll-booth and souvenir shop. But with every photograph I've taken of a monument, of a neon high-street or sunset, I've moved further away from this essential desire. Lest we forget the verb 'to be' whenever we are trying to be somewhere, somewhen, somehow. The Japanese seem particularly keen on the token of the experience. Whether it is the photo of themselves issuing the 'V' sign in front of Mount Fuji, or the gift-set of sweet rice-cakes they take home as omiyage 3 for their grandmother. At first I thought this was nothing more than tourism top-trumps. A way to out-do your neighbour with 20 'sugoii!' 4 points over her holiday snaps. But unlike the Westerner's conception of the experience gained, the Japanese live to share their commodities with each other. Suddenly holiday photos are more than a way to put cousin Seth to sleep, they are a ticket for every member of your family, of your friendship group, your work mates and arch-enemies, to take a little bit of your experience for themselves. The machine of Japanese society is oiled by holiday snaps and boxes of seaweed crackers stamped with the silhouette of Hello Kitty. Before I lived here I read that the Japanese spend the same equivalent of their GDP on omiyage as America spends on law-suits and litigation. In this sense, the commodity of 'being somewhere' has far greater value for Japanese society than the mere personal. If we in the West were offered the chance to swap all our law-suits and lawyers for seaweed crackers, I hope we'd at least consider it. Perhaps the value I grasp for in my lived experience would be better shared than savoured for myself. Is it possible then to have an experience without commodifying it? I'm not sure if it is. Whether through my photo collection or the stuttering inadequacies of my language, I find it increasingly difficult to pinpoint what it was about an experience that lingers within me. As the smorgasbord of human experiences is extended, enhanced, mixed and matched between cultures and languages, what there is to take away with us seems increasingly shallow. Turn on The Discovery Channel and be instantly smacked around the face with the token beauty of the world. Travel there yourself, whether by tourist boat or chartered jet, and wallow in the sense that where you are right now is not where you normally find yourself. Without meaning to paint the entire Japanese nation with one brush, I do feel that they have got something right with their tourism tokens. They have brought in from the outside the gamut of experiences the world has to offer. They have reduced them to a pocket souvenir, or a sliver of flavour that lingers on the tongue, and shared them around for everyone to make sense of. The idea that we should all escape our lives for a while, should buy a reduced price ticket and lose ourselves on a pristine, simulacrum of a beach somewhere, bothers me. The only time I have ever felt distant from myself was when I was at the mercy of a culture who take pride in the commodities of their experiences. Who exist to share them. To really believe for one moment that I can find something, out here, that is true, that is mine and only mine is a little naive. When I finally get back on my flight, disembarking at Terminal 2 of Heathrow, only then will I once again be living the absolutely individual experience that is my own. For it is only through my removal and return to London that my deepest experiences are founded. If I am going to be anywhere, I may as well be where and what I am, and not what my plane ticket promises me I can be:

Coming home at lastAt the end of the year,I wept to findMy old umbilical cord 5

Notes 1. 'Gaijin' is the Japanese word for a foreigner, or, outsider.2. Poem taken from, The Records of a Weather-Exposed Skeleton, one of Matsuo Bashō's journeys as recounted in The Narrow Road to the Deep North and Other Travel Sketches.3. A souvenir or gift that represents something about a trip you have taken. Omiyage usually takes the form of a foodstuff that is 'unique' to the place visited.4. 'Sugoii!' roughly translates as Great! or Brilliant!.5. Poem taken from, The Records of a Travel-worn Satchel, one of Matsuo Bashō's journeys as recounted in The Narrow Road to the Deep North and Other Travel Sketches.

by Daniel Rourke

Last minute Japan travel: after making an error with timing I need to arrange one-way travel from Tokyo to Kumamoto quite quickly. What are the cheapest options? I have looked into flights and trains (for the 17th of August) and both seem expensive (about £200-£250 a ticket). I am in the UK at the moment. Would it be worth waiting until we arrive in Japan? Perhaps trying to get last minute flights at the airport? Information on this site suggests cheap train travel, but has no links to buy: frommers.com

Air travel is looking pricey: farecompare.com or skyscanner.net

Is it possible to book overnight traisn from the UK? what re the other cheap-cheap train options?

Any help or advice you have would be much appreciated

Welcome to the Atlas Obscura, a compendium of this age's wonders, curiosities, and esoterica. The Atlas Obscura is a collaborative project with the goal of cataloguing all of the singular, eccentric, bizarre, fantastical, and strange out-of-the-way places that get left out of traditional travel guidebooks and are ignored by the average tourist. If you're looking for miniature cities, glass flowers, books bound in human skin, gigantic flaming holes in the ground, phallological museums, bone churches, balancing pagodas, or homes built entirely out of paper, the Atlas Obscura is where you'll find them.