Koror

Koror is the porch of the Rock Islands: hundreds of jungle-topped limestone mushrooms rising from lagoons so clear the boats seem parked on air, a UNESCO seascape that hides marine lakes, white-clay channels and, at Blue Corner, what divers by the thousand call the best wall on the planet. Palau matched the setting with nerve — it declared the world's first shark sanctuary and asks every visitor to sign the Palau Pledge, stamped into the passport: a promise, written by Palau's children, to tread lightly in their home.

The traveller signs, and then earns it: a boat day through the mushroom isles with a swim in the Milky Way's white clay; the ascent and float of Jellyfish Lake, where millions of golden, stingless jellyfish pulse past like soft lanterns; the reef walls and channels where grey reef sharks patrol as landlords; and ashore, the bai — the steep-gabled, story-painted men's meeting house that anchored each village's law — and Koror's small museums that tell of navigators, storyboards and money made of glass beads.

The Guide's practical counsel: permits fund the paradise — Rock Islands and Jellyfish Lake passes are checked on the water, so carry them —; reef-safe sunscreen is law here, not fashion; the lake's jellyfish are touched by nobody, which is the entire point; currents at the famous walls ask honest dive experience and reef hooks used gently; and the Pledge's five lines are the rare paperwork worth rereading on the flight home, preferably aloud.