When I was a university student in Kyoto during the 1960s, Katsuichi Honda was the most glamorous adventurer-journalist of the day.
If he wanted to tell us about how the Eskimos actually lived, he would go off to Canada and live with an Inuit family, in an igloo. There, a single in-house bucket served as a receptacle for everybody's bowel movements. If he didn't want to relieve himself in such a confined space, exposed to everyone's sight, he had to go out and do it in the open, in an Arctic blizzard, near the dogs ready to gobble up whatever he might manage to get out.
Or, if he wanted to tell us about highland tribes in New Guinea, whose male members are famous for adorning themselves with penis sheaths, he would go off to the area that Japanese soldiers had had to slog through during World War II, and try to live with them.