Pollution Tourism: Andrew Blackwell On Visiting the World's Not-So-Hot Spots In "Visit Sunny Chernobyl: And Other Adventures in the World's Most Polluted Places," Andrew Blackwell travels to the titular fallout site; Linfen, China; Port Arthur, Texas; and other deeply despoiled places, driven by concern for the planet but also by a desire to see what such unpopular places might have to offer. In a recent interview via e-mail, Mr. Blackwell discussed the wildlife around Chernobyl, the one place he wishes he had visited, possible futures for environmentalism, and more. Did you really embark on this as a tourist, or as a journalist, or because the book proposal dictated it? I worked as any journalist would: doing research, interviewing people, and trying to get the facts right. But I also kept imagining that I was really just a tourist, because I wanted to escape that somber tone that always comes up when we're talking about environmental issues. Telling myself I was somehow un-serious freed me to experience places on their own terms, instead of as symbols of what's wrong with the world. You write that people can now sign up for tours of Chernobyl. Any sense of how many people are doing it? I doubt it's exactly overrun, but it's not hard to find blog posts and slideshows from folks who have made the trip. It's been in the Lonely Planet guide since long before the zone was formally opened to tourists. There's even a horror movie coming out about some tourists who visit the Exclusion Zone, which says to me that the idea has gone mainstream. You call Chernobyl "a great, unplanned experiment in conservation by way of pollution" because nature has its run of the place now. But I assume any wildlife there must be very sick, no? Not to the extent most people imagine. If you go strolling around the Exclusion Zone, you won't see any obvious impact on the plants and animals. The effects are subtle enough that, even a quarter century after the disaster, we're still figuring out what they are. Just last month some research was published suggesting that birds in contaminated areas have shorter lifespans. Were there any metrics for how you chose these places? Anywhere you didn't go that you now kick yourself for missing? "Metrics" would be a stretch, but there were definitely guidelines. I wanted a variety of environmental issues, and I didn't want to visit the same part of the world more than once. I also wanted a nice range of activities - whether it was camping or sailing. Having some kind of criteria was really important, because there were just so many places to choose from. You could spend a lifetime visiting toxic sites in the former Soviet Union, for example. My main regret is that I never made it to Africa. I really should have gone to the oil fields in the Niger Delta. You write: "I wish more people thought gross was beautiful." I never fully understood the reasoning behind this - you seem to love certain "gross" places in spite of their defects, but isn't an aversion to grossness what motivates people to fight pollution? It's not that I love grossness itself, but I did come to love many of the polluted places I visited. And I object to the outright disgust these kinds of places get saddled with, because once that disgust becomes entrenched, we're more likely to give up on them. When I hear about eco-tourists visiting a beautiful rainforest, and how their tourist dollars may provide income to protect that ecosystem, I wonder why the same model can't work for a place like the refinery town of Port Arthur, Texas - which actually has a lot to offer for people interested in the outdoors, but is famous only as a dump. Did you feel any effects on your health from the travels? Do you fear any long-term consequences? I did develop a nasty cough while I was visiting Linfen, China, which is famous for its smog. But nothing that kept me from going for a run along the river. In general, I think it would be rude to fret too much about the health ramifications of spending a week or two in some place where millions of people live their entire lives. As for Chernobyl, I'm sure that if (god forbid) I develop cancer some day, someone will be around to imply that it's because I spent a day in the Exclusion Zone. But that would be absurd. Several times, you express frustration with people who venerate nature. I love a backcountry hike as much as anybody, but venerating nature often has as much to do with what we think is pretty as with anything else. And a lot of the time it doesn't leave much room for humans in the picture, which I think is a problem. Humanity's not going anywhere. So the future of environmentalism lies not in dreams of unspoiled wilderness, but in setting worthwhile goals that take humanity's impact into account. You call it a truism that "a traveler's writings say more about the traveler than about the place traveled to." So what does this book say about you, rather than about the places? Not that my character is particularly noxious, I hope. I think it just shows how attached I am to the idea of the underdog. I hate it when people or things get written off, not least because I don't want to be written off, myself. I always want to believe that there's a chance - even a likelihood - that the most un-beautiful, unlikely, unaccomplished person (or place) could make good when we least expect it.