The Solo Traveller
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Beyond the Map
Père Lachaise Cemetery is the largest cemetery in Paris, France, at 44 hectares. With more than 3.5 million visitors annually, it is the most visited necropolis in the world. The Père Lachaise is located in the 20th arrondissement and was the first garden cemetery, as well as the first municipal cemetery in Paris. Photographer: Pierre Antona.
Walking through the shadows of history – inside the landscape of Dark Tourism
Part Two
Dr Peter Hohenhaus in conversation with Geoffrey Williams
This is the second of a two-part conversation between Dr Peter Hohenhaus and Geoffrey Williams, and you can read Part One here. Peter has spent nearly two decades at the forefront of dark tourism, and champions respectful engagement with sites shaped by tragedy, urging travellers to prepare thoughtfully, tread gently and recognise the complex humanity held within these landscapes.
Content warning: this feature contains words and images that may be sensitive, distressing, or confronting to some readers. Your discretion is recommended.
How do you navigate physical and psychological safety in remote or politically sensitive dark sites?
Physical safety is only very rarely an issue within dark tourism. I am aware that there is the misconception that dark tourism means the same as, or includes, ‘danger tourism’, but that is largely a false assumption. For most of dark tourism, say memorial sites, cemeteries, and war museums, there are no physical risks to visitors. But there are borderline cases. Most people assume that visiting nuclear disaster sites such as Chernobyl (when you could still visit) or Fukushima involve health risks through radiation exposure. However, this is manageable and as long as you follow the safety rules and don’t do anything stupid (like pick an apple from a tree and eat it at a contaminated hotspot), then the exposure you receive will be less than you get on a long-haul flight or during a CT scan.
Komodo Island, Indonesia. Photographer: Johnny Africa.
One time when I felt a bit unsafe was on a boat that took me to remote Komodo Island in Indonesia. It departed before daybreak, but once in daylight I noticed that this was not the most seaworthy vessel. There were no life vests or rafts, no navigational instruments nor any lights, so when we sailed back after dark, it really was pitch-black dark. The exhaust fumes from the ancient engine were also leaking into the passenger cabin, so you had to hold your breath when retrieving your stuff from in there … and when the sea got a bit choppy and the skipper indicated I should go inside I refused – it would have meant asphyxiation.
But this is an extreme case and independent of dark tourism, because it could have affected any non-dark tourist just the same. However, health and safety concerns are generally, well, let’s say ‘lax’ in Indonesia. North of Java I went on a boat tour to Krakatoa, and we even climbed the new crater, at the top of which sulphurous fumes were emerging. Whereas at Kilauea on Big Island Hawaii the Volcano National Park authorities don’t let you closer than within a mile of the crater.
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Ijen is about 20 kilometres (12 miles) wide. Photographer: Thomas Fuhrmann.
The descent into the Ijen caldera, also in Indonesia, was another somewhat precarious adventure. It wasn’t just the descent on a steep track down the inside of the caldera wall as such, though it was dicey, but because of some reckless other tourists who were storming down at breakneck speed (in flip-flops!), so you had to get well out of their way to stay safe. At the bottom, there are biting sulphurous fumes (you need a respirator) and a deadly acid lake (a tourist once fell in and perished). Moreover, with active volcanoes there is the potential risk that you might get caught up in a sudden eruption. When I read about the eruption on New Zealand’s White Island in 2019, in which a number of tourists were killed, it hit me hard and I thought “that could have been me”. White Island would certainly have been on my itinerary had I travelled to New Zealand.
One category that frequently overlaps with dark tourism is so-called ‘urban exploration’ (‘urbex’ for short), where you enter abandoned buildings that may be in various stages of dilapidation. These are places where you have to tread carefully and assess the risks as to how far you can safely go. I keep the risks to a low level, yet I know that others risk more, and people have died doing urbex. But for the vast majority of dark tourism experiences, there are no physical risks involved. And if there may be any, my general advice would be do your research, plan ahead, but also trust your gut feeling and adapt to the situation.
Catacombe di San Gennaro (the Catacombs of Saint Gennaro), are underground paleo-Christian burial and worship sites in Naples, Italy, carved out of tuff (a type of rock made of volcanic ash). Photographer: Dominik Matus.
As for psychological safety, particularly with regards to how emotionally taxing very dark sites can be, visiting, say, concentration camp memorials is not for everybody. And as a tourist you have to learn how far you can go before it gets too heavy for you and always travel well prepared.
Regarding politically sensitive dark sites, this is tricky. A prime example is travel to North Korea. I know of people who would never do so because they either don’t want to see their travel money supporting a regime like North Korea’s, and/or because they couldn’t handle the obligatory rituals you have to partake in when there, such as laying flowers and bowing at the statues of the ‘Great Leaders’. You also have to be able to handle heavy-handed propaganda coming at you all the time. Every so often the propagandistic narrative got so ridiculous that I found it hard to suppress laughing out loud. Yet I am glad I overcame my reservations and went on the trip – it was not just a different country, it was like a different world.
Of course you mustn’t buy into the skewed propaganda but judge it against what you’ve learned before going. Yet it can be very eye-opening all the same, sometimes in unexpected ways. Oh, and if you think travelling to North Korea is dangerous, think again. OK, you have to control yourself, but as long as you follow the rules and don’t do anything really stupid, it’s one of the safest countries to visit (no crime … at least not any directed at foreign visitors).
The Monument to Party Founding, Pyongyang, North Korea. The hammer, sickle and calligraphy brush symbolise the workers, farmers and intellectuals of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea. The structure is 50 metres high to recognise the 50-year anniversary of the founding of the Workers’ Party of Korea. Photographer: Steve Barker.
Many of us travel precisely to ‘think’. What advice can share with us about balancing introspection with respect for the local narrative, particularly if that narrative is dictated by political correctness and/or censorship of unpopular opinions, truths, and the people involved in the evolution of the destination?
First of all, travelling to think is the best way to travel, and dark tourism is precisely about that. But you have to start thinking before you go and try not to stumble into dark-tourism sites unprepared. Read up on the history beforehand in trustworthy sources, and when the local narrative deviates from what you’ve learned, it is always wise to restrain yourself from challenging it. Take it in, digest it quietly, and keep your conclusions to yourself – unless, of course, such discussion is openly invited.
“Read up on the history beforehand in trustworthy sources, and when the local narrative deviates from what you’ve learned, it is always wise to restrain yourself from challenging it.”
To come back to North Korea, as ridiculous as some of the narratives you are told on tours may be, challenging them is pointless and could only poison the atmosphere with the guides – who, without such challenges, I found extremely friendly and welcoming. Propaganda is so ingrained in North Korea that you wouldn’t have a chance of changing their views anyway.
In other places it may not be so clear-cut, and I was told falsehoods elsewhere too. Unless it’s a question of minor points that can easily and painlessly be clarified, I tend to let them go, respect the guide’s narrative, and leave any deviating views of my own to silent introspection.
An example of a minor nature is when I was on my return visit to Sarajevo in Spring 2025 I had two or three guides repeatedly claiming that Sarajevo’s Jewish cemetery was the second largest in the world “after the one in Prague”. Now I could have named at least two Jewish cemeteries I have visited that were each much larger than Prague’s and Sarajevo’s combined (namely in Warsaw and in Budapest), but the guides seemed so proud of their claim that I didn’t say anything.
I may include criticisms/corrections in the chapters I write for my book and my website, but when you are ‘in the moment’, respect for the local narrative has to outweigh any scepticism. While travelling, and spending time at specific dark sites, I try to remain as neutral as possible in general. Evaluation comes later.
The Janusz Korczak monument at a Jewish Cemetery in Warsaw. Janusz Korczak, the pen name of Henryk Goldszmit, was a Polish Jewish paediatrician, educator, children’s author, and a children's rights advocate, having drafted a children’s constitution in 1919. After working as a Principal of an orphanage in Warsaw, he moved in with his orphans when the orphanage was forced to move to the ghetto, despite pleas from friends to flee the country. He was murdered when the entire population of the institution was sent to the Treblinka extermination camp during the Grossaktion Warschau (the huge deportation of Jews to Treblinka) of 1942. Photographer: Adrian Grycuk.
The Internet has amplified exposure to dark tourism, and everyone can now post instantly from a memorial. Do you think social media has deepened or cheapened the experience?
Social media has cheapened everything, and dark tourism is no exception. I was perhaps ‘guilty’ of this myself when I was still on Facebook and ran a promotional page for my website, with ‘photo of the day’ posts relating to anniversary dates in history, current affairs in dark tourism (such as my coverage of the wildfires in Chernobyl in 2020). I tried to make it all sober, non-sensationalist, and appropriate – and my few thousand followers seemed to agree that I managed that … but not Facebook’s algorithms. From one day to the next I was purged – my travel page and my private account were wiped out with no reasons given and no means of appeal.
That was a few years ago and since then I’ve said ‘bye-bye’ to all social media. I don’t like the way it has developed in general anyway. Instead I set up my blog for a more interactive offering where readers can subscribe to a newsletter, comment on posts, and take part in polls. It’s a much more civilised setting. But is it OK to post images of dark-tourism destination on social media? I would say ‘Yes’, as long as it’s respectful and non-exploitative nor sensationalist. But if taking grinning selfies at sites of tragedy is bad enough, posting such images on social media is, in my view, an absolute no-go.
The 9/11 Memorial South Pool, Greenwich Street, New York, USA. Photographer: Tomas Eidsvold.
What do you believe is missing in the public conversation that you wish journalists, travellers, or even tourism boards would grasp?
That they understand that the term ‘dark tourism’ is not about the tourists’ psychological nature and not a moral value judgement. The usual definition of ‘dark tourism’ is clear – it’s travel to places that are in some way associated with tragedy, death, disaster and generally ‘difficult heritage’. The ‘dark’ in ‘dark tourism’ is the same as in the figurative expression ‘a dark chapter of history’. It’s as simple as that. The definition says nothing about the tourists or their motivations. Hence everybody who visits a dark-tourism destination as a tourist (privately and voluntarily, as opposed to for research purposes) is by definition a ‘dark’ tourist. By the power of logic, whether travellers are aware of the existence of the concept of dark tourism or not and whether they appreciate being classed as ‘dark’ tourists or not, is immaterial.
The common prejudice too many in journalism, the general public and especially within the tourism industry have, namely that the prime motivation for dark tourists has to be ‘morally deviant’ and/or some sort of ‘voyeurism’, is unfounded. That would mean deriving some sick form of gratification from it. But it’s tabloid ‘moral panic’ and not at all rooted in reality.
Apart from the educational gain and the experience of place authenticity (being at a place of history, rather than just reading about it at home) there is no such dubious gratification. I’ve never encountered anybody who at, say, a concentration camp memorial would have said “Wow, this is really great!”. It’s never happened in my lifetime as a dark tourist. I cannot rule out it may occur (there are, after all, some weird characters out there), but so far I’ve been spared such unsavoury experiences.
“I’ve never encountered anybody who at, say, a concentration camp memorial would have said ‘Wow, this is really great!’. It’s never happened in my lifetime as a dark tourist.”
Generally, we don’t visit such places for pleasure, but for confronting reality and learning from it. That can be enriching, but it’s not mere voyeurism. But since quick-shot tabloid journalism is rarely based on sober evaluation and evidence but guided by sheer imagination and sensationalism (often coupled with unfitting extreme ‘examples’), the public views of dark tourism are all too frequently influenced by such unfair negative portrayals. It is part of my mission to change that and rehabilitate dark tourism and help to make it understood for what it really is.
Looking ahead, what new frontiers of dark tourism intrigue you?
Tricky question. Are there any frontiers of dark tourism I haven’t already covered or that are only just emerging? Well, I do wonder what impact AI may have on dark-tourism experiences in the near future … but I’m more worried than intrigued in this regard. I already find there’s too much ‘virtual/augmented reality’ interfering. Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer actual reality and authenticity of artefacts over any such simulations. But AI is threatening to encroach on just about everything, so perhaps dark tourism may also be affected in ways not yet foreseeable.
Not entirely new but emerging is dark tourism related to climate change. I’ve not been to the place myself yet, but I’ve recently watched a documentary about a hiking trail in Grindelwald, Switzerland, where information panels with QR codes allow travellers to use their smartphones to access information about local impacts of climate change on the mountains and landscape, including before-and-after photos of changes brought about by thawing Alpine permafrost. I could imagine that more such things might also be created in other parts of the world.
I’ve also seen something similar in Norway. One place with drastically visible effects of climate change that is covered on my website is the Pasterze Glacier in Austria, which has shrunk so much that it’s barely visible any longer from the viewing platforms, hotel and “panorama restaurant”, which were built at a time when the ice still reached up there. Now the edge of the ice is well over a mile away and 200m lower.
The Pasterze Glacier, Austria. Photographer: Jacek Dylag.
One category of dark tourism that would be entirely new to me is wreck diving. I doubt I will ever be able to do this (I’ve never scuba-dived in my life and can’t really see me trying it), but it is certainly intriguing. I know people who have done it (so it’s not really so new). It’s also controversial, in that wrecks of ships which went down with people on board can be considered underwater graves. Hence some wrecks are officially out of bounds, such as that of the ferry ‘Estonia’ that sank in 1994 in the Baltic Sea. The location of the wreck is monitored by the coastguard to make sure nobody dives there. The most famous case in this context is probably the wreck of ‘Titanic’, where the rich could pay steep sums of money to go down in a deep-sea submersible to see the wreck … until the June 2023 disaster, that is, when such a submersible was lost and all five on board died. That’s probably the end of ‘Titanic’ dives for wealthy tourists, but you never know.
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The wreck of an Ar 196 in the Mediterranean Sea off Irakleia (Heraklia) Island, Greece, where it crashed on 17 September 1943. The Arado Ar 196 was a shipboard reconnaissance low-wing monoplane aircraft designed and produced by the German aircraft manufacturer Arado. Photographer: August Politis.
My current travel plans are more modest and traditional (if that’s not a contradiction in the context of dark tourism), and new to me, but hardly ‘frontiers’. I am currently planning a trip to Naples. It has a few dark attractions of its own and is also a good base for tours to see Vesuvius and Pompeii (arguably the first dark-tourism attraction from the times when the upper classes went on the ‘grand tour’ of Europe).
After that, a return trip to Japan around Easter is a possibility. I’ve been contacted with options for some extra special urbexing in that country and also a return visit to Fukushima. Summer could be a long-overdue road trip through Germany, my country of birth, yet I still have so many gaps to close there. It could possibly be combined with Denmark, where I’ve also found out about a number of intriguing sites that I’d like to see with my own eyes.
Looking further ahead, Cuba is another big gap, and I really must go there one day. Central America could also be important, but I should probably first learn some Spanish to make those destinations really possible. The largest number of specific places per country that are still on my travel wish list are for the USA but given the current political climate in that country I am not keen at the moment. Generally, there are still hundreds of dark destinations I’ve not yet visited. So I won’t run out of dark-tourism options any time soon.
Pompeii is a vast archaeological site in southern Italy’s Campania region, near the coast of the Bay of Naples. Once a thriving and sophisticated Roman city, Pompeii was buried under metres of ash and pumice after the catastrophic eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 AD. The preserved site features excavated ruins of streets and houses that visitors can explore. Photographer: Freysteinn G. Jonsson.
If you could design one dark tourism journey for a thoughtful solo traveller, what three sites would you include, and what guiding principle would you want them to carry from start to finish?
This is almost impossible to answer, because people are generally only interested in particular subcategories of dark tourism, never all of them in equal measure. So in order to recommend anything I’d have to know what the traveller’s particular interests are. It’s pointless to recommend specific destinations if the person isn’t interested in the topic they’re related to.
There are also practical aspects to consider. You can’t really recommend three different sites that are scattered across the globe and hence cannot be done in a single journey, so I would rather recommend three places within reasonable geographical proximity. Let’s take a hypothetical example. If someone was to go to Poland and is interested in Holocaust history, then my first recommendation would be Majdanek (for the greatest authenticity of any such site), and not Auschwitz, because of the overtourism there.
My second would be Sobibor, now that it is fully commodified and has an excellent modern museum with some remarkable artefacts. Picking a third is trickier, but the memorial museum that has been created inside Oskar Schindler’s former factory in Krakow would be a good candidate.
Oskar Schindler’s desk and the tinware sarcophagus inside Oskar Schindler's Enamel Factory in Kraków, Poland. Photographer: Adrian Grycuk.
As guiding principles I would recommend prepare ahead, read up on the history of the places, be respectful and behave appropriately at the sites, and take in not just information but also the sense of place authenticity. Take time out to feel that. Contemplate. Then afterwards let go of the dark for a while rather than mulling it over for the rest of the day and return to your experiences and memories at a later point in time.
Dr Peter Hohenhaus has spent nearly two decades at the forefront of dark tourism, documenting the places where history’s shadow falls heaviest. In the first of a two-part conversation with Geoffrey Williams, Peter explores his motivations, his most affecting encounters, and the role dark tourism can play in remembrance and understanding.
Content warning: this feature contains words and images that may be sensitive, distressing, or confronting to some readers. Your discretion is recommended.
About the author
Born in Hamburg in northern Germany, Peter grew up with a modest but peaceful childhood that blended city life with frequent weekend adventures to the woods, the coast, the harbour and even the odd peat bog, experiences that quietly nurtured his curiosity about the world. Family travel was simple and budget-friendly, with summers in Denmark and the unforgettable excitement of a childhood trip to Paris that felt like travelling to the far end of the earth. At school he gravitated toward languages, humanities and the arts, while team sports remained his least favourite arena. Music became an early passion, first through the school orchestra, then through rock bands, synthesizers, and increasingly experimental projects. As university studies intensified, music took a back seat and academia stepped forward. After completing an MA and PhD at Hamburg University, Peter spent years lecturing across Britain and continental Europe forging a career shaped by the same curiosity and restlessness sparked during those early family excursions.
You can connect with Peter via his website here, and explore his extraordinary book ‘Atlas of Dark Destinations’ in more detail here.
To purchase your copy of Peter’s book, please follow the most appropriate link for your region.
For our readers in the UK, visit the Laurence King Publishing Ltd website here.
For the rest of the world, you can use the US branch of Laurence King website here,
and you can also order it from Amazon via their website here.
Geoffrey Williams is The Solo Traveller Group’s Founder and Publishing Curator.