An elderly man in naval uniform sits on a bench in the museum grounds. He is eighty years old and is employed by the museum as a guide, although his main duty is simply posing with tourists. To the visiting North Koreans this man is a national hero; while to the relatively few tourists from further afield he is simply an historical curiosity.
The San Francisco de Asis Church may be made of adobe like many others in the region, but its appearance is very different. Its thick walls with their jutting buttresses look more like a fortification than a place of worship, and its massive bulk seems completely out of proportion to the small community it was built to serve.
Battling across the dark grey stony beach, hardly able to stay upright in the wind, which was whipping grit into my eyes and cheeks, I wondered if it would all be worth it. But one look at the turquoise blue icebergs floating on the water to my left reassured me that it would be. And it was.
Few would argue with the idea that the main contribution that Jamaica has made to international culture is its reggae music, and the man who did most to bring that to the world’s attention was Bob Marley. So it’s perhaps not surprising that he has achieved almost cult status on the island.
Where better to take candid street photos than New York City? It is one of my favourite cities, and has a buzz unequalled anywhere else I have visited. It is like being on a movie set. The skyscrapers and streets provide the perfect backdrop for the constant ebb and flow of people.
Standing here you feel on top of the world. You are standing at a height of 2,000 metres above sea level. Below you see the road, little more than a track, that you are to follow, winding down through an almost other-worldly volcanic landscape.
These hexagonal pillars look more man-made than natural. They are quite regular in size, creating the impression that they were somehow manufactured. In a sense they were, but by nature rather than man.
This pretty garden, originally laid out by a wealthy silk merchant, later became a popular beer garden. The small palace to which it belongs bears the name of the brewer who once had his brewery in its cellars and is still owned by his descendants.
There is something about a tale of an abandoned city that tugs at the imagination, and this one is no different. Here among the remnants of an emperor’s glory you can still discover riches, and the sense of a world that existed only briefly and is long gone.
There is a solidity to this church; it seems rooted in the soil from which it was built. Its thick walls with their jutting buttresses look more like a fortification than a place of worship, and its massive bulk seems completely out of proportion to the small community it was built to serve.