In Cuba

I stood around by the road a lot in Varadero.  A couple of times I was stopped and people tried to engage me in conversations about the cameras I was using and why I was using them.  I got that through gestures as my spanish is strictly menu spanish, which is about as much use as chocolate teapot in Cuba because aside from beans, rice and pig, the menu was mysterious unless you ate with the other tourists, but that menu was prohibitively expensive and frequently dire. I stood by the roads because the cars are fascinating, but everyone bangs …

Gas and Garbage

In July 1991 I arrived at Gdynia, the Polish seaport where the cracks in communism had not long since opened up into crevasses and swallowed a 70 year old ideology.  I arrived on a boat from Tilbury because I had thought it would be a really cool way to arrive in Poland.  We had sailed up the River Tees for some reason on our journey and I’d witnessed the last gasps of the heavy industry that had informed Ridley Scott’s landscape in Blade Runner.  Then we’d sailed over Denmark and into the Baltic finally stopping at the green and rusty …