Visit Chernobyl's exclusion zone

“But crossing into the exclusion zone, I didn’t feel anything. No weird twinges; no mysterious pangs of emotion; no fear. I didn’t feel different as I handed over my passport to a stern military official or as I signed away my rights on various health and safety waivers. Even as I walked past the armed guards and across the painted line that separated the “safe” outside world from the “dangerous” exclusion zone, I felt nothing. I waited for some sort of sensation of danger or apprehension as we drove through the 30 kilometer zone and then again when we passed through the military checkpoint at the 10 kilometer zone entrance. Even as I stood a mere 200 meters from the actual disaster site with its granite memorial and shiny new sarcophagus, I felt nothing. I couldn’t summon any recognition of reality.”

“There are no safety barriers or marked routes for the tours, which is part of the appeal. We are at liberty to explore, cautiously peering around corners and venturing down dark hallways. Every step reveals decline, destruction, and overgrowth. Nature is reclaiming Pripyat; elk and fox now prowl the neighborhoods. We step among the debris, taking photos and feeling, in turns, humbled, angered, and alarmed. The site stands as a monument to the havoc wreaked by hubris, obfuscation, and paranoia, all three elements magnifying the literal and figurative fallout from the accident. Earlier this year, Ukrainian President Petro Poroshenko called Chernobyl "an unhealing wound that we live with as a people." No TV documentary or textbook can deliver the profound reality check that comes from seeing it all for yourself, and I'm glad I did. I admit to cringing while stepping over torn book pages scattered on floors, and wondering how much longer the ephemeral personal belongings around Pripyat can withstand the parade of footsteps.”