St GEORGE'S. BERMUDA

13th - 15th June 2018

Looking south over St George's towards the harbour and airport

After a fairly tedious 7½ hour flight we landed at 6.30pm at L.F.Wade International Airport on the north eastern end of the island(s). It is just south of St George's on St David's Island (most of these islands are close together and joined by bridges or causeways). Cattle Class on the flight was fairly full. Club and 1st Class, and goodness knows what they would have cost, contained a total of 9 passengers! BA cabin crew really do leave a lot to be desired, certainly in comparison with most Middle and Far Eastern airlines. I will not comment on their appearance, but they all seem to do the job on sufferance and with little enthusiasm. Some have obviously been doing it for many years.

I was met by my host with his scooter. Only Bermudian residents are permitted to own cars, and only one per household at that. Foreigners cannot hire cars, so scooters are it.

He had not appreciated that I would be carrying a large(ish) suitcase. I always do because they are useful as seats and can be reasonably securely locked up. Anyway, there was a little basket on the back which. fortunately, my case neatly fitted into albeit rather insecurely (left). And colour coordinated.

It was a 5 mile drive to his accommodation on the hill north of St Georges which we negotiated safely. To this day I am not sure what the town is properly called. Referred to locally as 'St George's' the sign on entering calls it 'The Town of St George'. A pedantic point no doubt.

There is a 35 mph speed limit on all the roads out of town which, I quickly gathered, is universally ignored. They conveniently drive on the left side of the road.

Right: For future reference, an aerial shot of the island(s). St George's is at the top right (known as the 'East, or Blue, End'), Hamilton, the capital, is on the south side of the sticky-out bit going left just south of it, and the Royal Naval Dockyard is at the tip of fish-hook to the top left (known as the West, or Red, End). Is that clear? As you can see, very built-up and crowded.

Left: My host's rented apartment on the ground floor right side. As possibly mentioned, I could not have afforded any other accommodation at Bermudian sky-high prices. 

Right: Our view from the terrace over St George's harbour.

All the houses, large or small, appear pristine and beautifully maintained (left). The walls tend to be painted in differing pastel shades, but all, even the grandest villas, have exactly the same type of white roof. No point in asking to go the 'house with the white roof', and directions are often given to go to 'the pink, or blue. or whatever coloured' house you want to find. There is a reason for this. 

Right: The roofs are constructed with ridges which channel rainwater down a pipe into an underground tank. The white 'paint' is of a substance which helps purify the rainwater. Other than one small 'emergency' desalination plant, rain is virtually the only source of fresh water on the island. It seems to have worked OK for a few hundred years, and they do get a lot of rain from time to time. Precious stuff.

Wandering around the very picturesque town I decided to 'go native' and buy myself a pair of genuine Bermuda shorts at the 'English Sports' emporium (B$59). I never normally wear shorts because my legs tend to frighten the horses. My sartorial efforts (left) were badly let down by my shoes and socks. The correctly dressed Bermudian 'man about town' will usually wear shorts, 2" above the knee (not ghastly patterned ones I hasten to add) with jacket, tie, proper shoes and woollen socks which should come up to 2" below the knee. Or sandals, without socks. What a disgrace I was.

Right: Looking down Duke of York's street from Custom's Square. A typical street. There are no high-rise buildings in St George's, or anywhere else for that matter, apart from a few new taller office buildings in Hamilton, and the occasional lighthouse.

Several iconic British features adorn the place such as the post-boxes (left). 

Right: King's Square in the centre of town.

In which is the Town Hall (left) with its Town Crier who rang his bell and made loud announcements.

He also doubled up as the resident bagpiper (right) to keep the passing tourists amused, or not, depending on one's appreciation of bagpipes.

For those not familiar, they are an 'area weapon' used by the Scots to intimidate their enemies or by buskers as a means of extracting money from gullible Japanese and American tourists on the streets of Edinburgh.

Behind him on the Square were the stocks (left).

Of course, some idiot had to 'have a go'......... !

Fortunately nobody threw any rotten tomatoes or eggs at him. Considering the price of food here, I'm not altogether surprised.

On the harbour-front nearby was a replica 'ducking stool'. Originally a punishment of humiliation, mainly for women who were considered 'scolds' or who had committed some minor sexual indiscretion, or possibly failed to do the washing and ironing properly. I don't think they are currently in use. Perhaps they should be.

While I was here a re-enactment took place. A mock trial was held (by the multi-purpose Town Crier) and this woman was found guilty (surprise surprise) of disobeying her husband, or somesuch unforgivable crime.

She got a good few duckings much to the amusement of the cheering mob. I was present purely as your unbiased reporter.

Also on the harbour-front is the statue of the redoubtable Admiral Sir George Somers; he who got shipwrecked on the island in 1609 and who is credited with starting it up as a British possession.

Left: Off Ordnance Island (the original Customs House is here), across the way from King's Square, is a replica of the ship named Deliverence, one of two ships the survivors of the shipwreck built in the year after getting ashore. The other was called Patience. A good effort! This ship was a mere 57' long and looks remarkably unstable. In any event, the two ships managed to take the survivors on to Jamestown, Virginia. I think some offered to stay behind and, considering the look of this boat and likely conditions on board, I'm not at all surprised. I would have been one of them.

Right: The monument to Sir George Somers ouside the Somers Botanical Gardens. It is reputed that Sir George's heart is buried in here somewhere. He died on the island after returning from Virginia. His body was taken back to England and is buried in Dorset, his home county.

Left: The entrance to the Botanical Gardens. These circular gateways are common throughout the island. They have some significance, but I've forgotten what it is.

My able researcher has found out that these are 'Moon gates'. They are of Chinese design  and the style was imported onto the island in the late 19th century due to British interest in the Far East at the time. They are considered to bring luck to those walking through them, especially newly wed couples.

Right: St Peter's Chappell on Duke of York Street. Built in 1620, this is the oldest continuously operating Anglican church in the Western hemisphere. In the graveyard behind are buried many prominent Bermudians, including the British Governor Sir Richard Sharples who, along with his ADC and dog, was assassinated by a black power maniac in 1973. More about Governors later. There is also a separate graveyard for slaves and freed blacks. A reminder of Bermuda's segregated past.

The interior of the church is all decked out in red cedar. If you enlarge this photo you will see a lady (in red) standing in the pulpit. Actually, as I discovered, she is the cleaner.

My 'dangerously' conscientious researcher, thanks to his far reaching contacts, has found out that the lady in the pulpit is the admirable Mrs Edith Swainson who, for many years, has dusted the place every Thursday and Saturday. Well done Mrs Swainson!

This town, indeed the whole island, has more churches of various denominations, than you can shake a stick at. There is some 'house of worship' in just about every street. I can't begin to describe what they each worship or what some of the peculiar, indeed whacky, sounding religions are. All some form of Anglican, I think. No mosques.

Right: The 'Unfinished Church' to the north of the town. A grand design for a prestigious new church which was unfinished in 1874. They ran out of money. As if there weren't enough churches already, even in those days.

One of the most intriguing features of this town, and elsewhere on the island, is the preponderance of 'NO LOITERING' signs. They are everywhere. "No Loitering, Violators will be Prosecuted" they sometimes read. This raised, for me anyway, many questions (I have a previous blog detailing silly signs). For example; what, exactly constitutes 'loitering'? How long, precisely, can one hang about and at what distance from the sign before you offend? If you stop to take breath, or do up your shoelaces for too long, would that constitute 'loitering'? If caught 'loitering', what is the punishment?

Left: Me 'loitering" I suppose (apologies again for the socks). I waited for a few minutes but no sign of PC Plod rushing towards me blowing his whistle. I would probably have been 'done' for the socks as well.

At one place with a 'No Loitering' sign there was a conveniently placed seat. Perhaps if you are sitting down you are not considered to be loitering.

Anyway, being a bit baffled by this and not wishing to receive a criminal record during my stay, I went to the Tourist Information Office to get an explanation.

The lady 'info' officer to whom I painstakingly, and at great length, explained my confusion just looked at me as if I was mad. I never did find the answers. Neither was I ever arrested for loitering.

Left: An example of one of the many lavish villas on the island. This one being on the shore near St George's. Many Very Wealthy People (VWP) have similar properties here.

Right: To end this episode, a photo of some local Bermudians (I actually asked) who willingly, enthusiastically even, posed for me. I'm glad we didn't get done for 'loitering with Intent'! 

Lots more to come from around these fascinating Islands.

BERMUDA OR BUST (and probably both discovering the prices)

13th - 21st June 2018

Bermuda

When I discovered the exhorbitant air fare (BA have a monopoly on direct flights from UK) and the cost of accommodation on the island(s) I decided that a visit to Bermuda was well outside my financial limits. However, a very generous ex-military friend of mine works on the island from time to time and kindly offered me free board and lodging; an opportunity not to be missed as I was curious to see the place. So I paid BA their rip-off fare for the 7 hour flight from London Gatwick to L.F Wade Intl Airport near St George's at the north-east end of the island .

Bermuda lies in the North Atlantic 660 miles off the east coast of Virginia, USA, 1000 miles north of the Caribbean and 3500 miles south-west of the UK.....in the middle of nowhere frankly. It is at the northern tip of the infamous (if mythical) Bermuda Triangle and to the west of the Sargasso Sea. The island, or islands (there are 181 in total) with the 8 larger inhabited ones connected by bridges, are arranged in a fish-hook shape. It is 22 miles long and only about a mile wide at any point. Its population is about 66,000 and is (I am told) the 3rd most densely populated country in the world.
In fact it is a British Overseas Territory, indeed the oldest one. It was discovered and charted in 1505 by a Spaniard called Juan de Bermúdez, hence the name, then visited from time to time by Portugese sailors who introduced pigs, but didn't stay for long. The pigs enjoyed sole ownership until, in 1609, a flotilla taking supplies and settlers to the new English colony of Virginia under the command of Admiral Sir George Somers was hit by a storm and his flagship, the Sea Venture, together with some smaller boats, were driven onto surrounding reefs. 150 passengers and crew, including Sir George, and a dog (the ship's dog), made it safely to land on the eastern end. They stayed for 10 months, establishing a settlement, later to become St George's, and built two ships which duly took most of them on to Jamestown, Virginia. The island was claimed by the English Crown and settled in 1612 when St George's became its first capital. I think the pigs have now all been eaten.
Following that, and the introduction of African slaves in the 18th century (a significant factor in the present day demographic), it remained a British stronghold with a major Naval base, the Royal Naval Dockyard, on the tip of the western 'fish-hook'. This was an active dockyard, with surrounding fortifications, until the mid-20th century. Hamilton, a town about 12 miles from St George's on the north coast, became the new capital in 1815.
It is also well known as a 'tax free' environment for various enterprises, mainly of the financial, investment and re-investment (whatever that is) variety plus being a 'flag of convenience' for shipping and aviation companies worldwide. I note that even large airlines such as Aeroflot fly with the 'convenient' Bermudan registration code of VP-XXXX. It's all to do with money, and tax of course.
Talking of money, I discovered that Bermuda is a very affluent country with many vastly wealthy people owning grand villas and big yachts dotted around the place (tax free). It is also a vastly expensive place to visit, and more about that later! The island produces virtually nothing in terms of agriculture and industry. Everything, excluding fish perhaps, is imported, hence the high prices.
It is still a British Overseas Territory with a British Governor in residence, but rules itself independently. The majority of the population is now ethnically 'black' and most of the senior political positions, from Prime Minister downwards, are held by such.
It has a sub-tropical climate and is in the hurricane belt (which sometimes occur Sept-Oct). Currency is the Bermuda Dollar (BD$) and is pegged one-to-one with the US$.
Oh, I forgot the golf courses. This small island boasts 7 major golf courses; 5 of which are of international championship standard. I don't play golf.

OK, that's a brief background summary of an island with a long and much more complicated history that I can be bothered to bore you with. The rest might be explained around photos in blog(s) to follow.

CHERNOBYL. PART 2

4th - 5th June 2018

Duga radar site

5 miles south-west of Chernobyl is an extraordinary construction; part of the the 'Duga' Soviet cold-war era radar array. Built in 1976 and operating until 1989, it was a very powerful Over The Horizon (OTH) radar facility to identify and track any incoming aircraft and missiles. Range; about 2500 miles. Of course this was a Top Secret establishment in a strictly prohibited zone approached on a fortified single track road through the forest. In fact, what you see here is just the receiver and monitoring end. The mega-powerful transmitter part was 50km to the north-east and would burn your balls off if you got too close to it. I believe the system's code name was 'Steel Yard', but known to radio hams and others as 'The Russian Woodpecker'. This was because it transmitted infuriating tapping noises heard on radio receivers in the West. There is/was a similar model in eastern Siberia.

Right: Entry to the site. We were followed throughout this visit by a mongrel dog called Boris who, apparently, is a local mascot and accompanies all tours. The lady in our group who liked to feed the strays duly plied it with dog-food. No wonder it followed. It knows which side its bread is buttered.

Left: The array is 900 metres long and the taller masts are 500 ft high. People have climbed them, of course, as indeed had Nicholai our guide, but the authorities have now removed the bottom lattice sections to make it more difficult. I cannot think of anything I would rather do less. Some thrill-seekers have even 'base-jumped' (by parachute) from the top. Very windy up there, I was told, and when the wind does blow it makes a strange humming noise heard for miles around.

Right: There was even the odd radiation warning sign in evidence, although the readings were normal. The radiation cloud from the nuclear power site must have passed overhead.

Left: A service or inspection passage ran underground the whole length of the array. I think that the dog Boris is leading us here.

Right: The control centre 'ops room'. The computers, of ancient design, took up enormous space. Everywhere the floors of the rooms were covered in broken glass. This did not deter Boris. He even followed us up ladders to stand on the roof.

Left: One of the ex-computer terminals.











This site could be seen for miles. I took this photo from the roof of an apartment building in Pripyat, about 7 miles away. Was this on our target list in that period?

We left the 10km zone on return where a further  'scan' was carried out (left). We had dutifully stamped our feet earlier to remove any lingering radio-active material. I did ask how many scans had resulted in a 'failed' reading. The answer was 'possibly' one a year. I suspect even that was an exaggeration. Anyway, all good entertainment.

The next port of call was inside the 30km zone at one of the previously evacuated villages. There was considerable hassle amongst the locals when this evacuation was first decreed. Apparently the villages on the western side of the approach road were contaminated. Those on the east side were not. Initially, the authorities were only going to evacuate the western villages. However those residents strongly objected saying that if they went the eastern villagers would pillage their properties. An understandable argument perhaps. Anyway it was then decided to evacuate the whole lot, hence the 30km clearance zone.

A few stubborn and determined villagers, unhappy with their resettlement, where they were often treated badly and with the suspicion that they were themselves 'contaminated' resolved to return. They were allowed to do so as there were very few of them and they were prepared to take the risk. Nobody was allowed back into the 10km zone.

We were taken to visit one such 'returner'. His name is Ivan Ivanovich who is now in his 80's and lives alone since his wife died a couple of years ago. He has two sons who occasionally come to visit. The village, and I've forgotten its unpronouncable name, has three re-occupied houses. The residents of two of which hate each other! Our visitee being one of them. What a hermit-like existence. No shops, but a mobile 'store' calls by once a month. He does have a mobile phone and TV (which is currently broken and nobody easily available to fix it....similar to where I live perhaps). If he has a medical problem he relies on the small clinic in Chernobyl.  He lives off a very basic state pension (about $90 per month). He is getting wobbly on his feet but has sensibly stockpiled a vast quantity of firewood (no shortage of that in the region), and it gets very cold in the winter, to last him out because he is now incapable of chopping the wood. He keeps hens which takes up most of his time. A very lonely life I imagine, but he seemed content enough. Impromptu visits from the likes of us presumably offer him a bit of light entertainment (from whom he receives a few 'tips' to help his finances).

Right: Self with Ivan at his rather spartan home which he had built himself. He enjoyed reminiscing about his life. He had been a Sergeant in a Chemical Unit of the Soviet army and served in various operational theatres in the 1950s, although got a bit muddled when trying to remember them. After leaving the army he got a job as a security guard at the nuclear facility. 

The mosquitos here were fierce. I gave him the remains of my recently bought supply of repellant for which, I think, he was grateful.

Then back to the 30km check-point where we were duly signed out. I bought a few souvenirs at the shop; base-ball cap, mug and key-ring which I will probably never use.

So that, for me, was a most interesting and educational tour of the Chernobyl area. I hope it interested you. Well worth a visit.

Back to Kiev and the Rus Hotel through mammoth traffic jams in the rush hour which took about 3 hours. We had two ladies in our group who had to go to the loo at least every 2 hours. Poor them, I suppose, but it caused a couple of painfully tedious diversions. It reminded me of why I prefer to travel alone.

Before I forget, I previously waxed lyrical about the ladies in Kiev being, on the whole, extraordinarily attractive; slim and elegantly dressed. The next morning at breakfast I was somewhat disillusioned. She (left) is Ukrainian and had a fit looking man with her and two delightful children. Whatever turns you on I suppose.

Uneventful return flight to London, Airwick Gatport, with Ukrainian Airlines. I took some photos of a couple of people on the aircraft who were remarkably weird...and will consider showing them in a future 'blog' when they won't be so easily attributable.

"Da Vye!", as they say in Ukrainian, "Lets go!"
Where next? Soon to be revealed.

PRIPYAT. THE GHOST TOWN

3rd - 4th Jun 2018

Pripyat town sign (a new one)

The 'model' town of Pripyat, on the bank of the River Pripyat, was built to house the scientists, engineers, and others who worked at the Chernobyl  nuclear power facility. About 3km from the site, its population was 48,500 and it was considered to be the ultimate in Soviet-style luxury. It was planned to double in size (as was the power station) with foundations already laid on the other side of the river. After the explosion at the #4 reactor residents were told to stay put (just a minor fire, they were told).
After two days they were told they were going to be 'temporarily' evacuated for a few days so to "leave everything, including pets, behind. Just take overnight kit". 1000 buses were assembled to carry out this task. They never returned.


Left: A view over deserted Pripyat towards the nuclear site from the roof of  a long-abandoned 16 floor block of luxury apartments. Good exercise getting up there. The lifts didn't seem to be working!







Shown below are copies of some old photos of the town in its heyday.


Right: The main thoroughfare.






















Right: I think this is the sports hall, including the swimming pool.























Right: The iconic 'big wheel' at the amusement park.
















Left: The sports arena and football pitch.












....AND NOW.....

Right: Walking across what was the football pitch towards the grandstand.







Left: The grandstand.











Right: What was an 'executive' apartment block at the entry to the town.










Left: The major shopping centre.










Right: Inside the supermarket. As with all these deserted buildings, anything of any salvage value has, long ago, been removed or looted.
We were under strict instructions not to remove anything....as if it was tempting!







Left: What was a 'posh' restaurant.










Right: The big wheel.  Still there but rusted up.











Left: The dodgems what dodge no more..










Right: In the 'props' room behind what was a very lavish theatre. They had been preparing for May Day parades and celebrations.








Left: A poster in the props room displaying one of Comrade Lenin's learned slogans. Forgotten what it means. Any help? (Bernie?)

Bernie, my editor-in-chief, has come up with the goods again. It says 'study, study, study!'





Right: I think this was the Town Hall.











Left: The town gaol in the basement of the police station. There was not much crime in Pripyat (mainly professional occupants) but plenty of 'drink related' bad behaviour (boredom?) which resulted in offenders sobering up in these cells, sometimes for several days, apparently.




Right: The 'top of the range' swimming pool in the sports hall. A clock at the far end was set at 01.26, the time of the explosion on April 26th 1986. This being one of the many 'props' set up by photo-journalists.







Left: The remains of what was a large and intricate stained-glass window in a riverside café. There was a (once) delightful terrace ouside with a jetty to catch the river ferries. These were fast and the favoured form of transport down river to join the Dneiper and on to Kiev.






Right: The town was litterd with the corpses of abandoned civil and military vehicles.









Left: A classroom in one of the bigger schools. All the rooms were carpeted with discarded books and pamphlets. Was someone seaching for the school porno collection?







Right: .....and a couple of gas masks artistically posed, with hundreds more piled on the floor behind. The schools (and presumably other establishments) were all issued with supplies of gas masks. These were as a precaution against possible chemical attack in the cold-war period. They were nothing to do with the fact that a large nuclear power plant was just a couple of miles away. It was decreed, as previously mentioned, '100% safe'.


Left: Bombs were banned! or is this just another journalistic 'plant'?









Right: A room in one of the deserted tower blocks.
We were allowed free movement around these buildings. I'm certain that this would be strictly forbidden in UK/EU due to 'Elf 'n Safety' regulations. It was stressed that we did this at our own risk and to be careful of the piles of broken glass etc. littering the place. Nobody came to any harm as far as I am aware.


Left: This road (old photo) leads from the nuclear site to Pripyat. It shows the trees on the left (west side) coloured a reddish hue where the initial nuclear cloud passed overhead. This is called the 'Red Forest' and, although no longer 'red', still does contain a much higher level of radiation. When driving through it our driver was obliged to speed up!



Right: Several of these 'radiation warning signs' bordered the roads. I suspect they were more for theatrical effect than genuine warnings. They kept us tourists amused. What's the point of going to Chernobyl without being offered the frisson of radiation danger. As mentioned, if there was any real risk our amusing guide, Nicholai (who has a family in Kiev), would not have been conducting tours for eight years.

More to come from this interesting region.