“The 200 mph winds from the EF5 tornado that touched down in Joplin, Mo., blew apart everything in its path, leaving debris hanging from most everything.
flickr image by David Shub

Disaster Tourism is like a double-edged sword.  Some consider it a nuisance, and in bad taste, but there are also others who feel calling attention to disasters provides first hand exposure which in turn can prompt more financial aid as well as volunteers.

Hurricane Katrina took boats out of the water and
onto the land – flickr photo by Loco Steve

Imagine though, hoards of people traveling to areas like New Orleans, post Katrina; and now Hurricane Sandy, with so much devestation along the New Jersey shoreline, which has its fair share of gawkers, as many are called.

There are even guided tour buses streaming their way through one destroyed neighborhood after another, often impeding clean up; so much so that some organized disaster tours are now banned from some of the most severely damaged areas.  It would seem a certain amount of excitement and anticipation surrounds catastrophes, which are likely key motivators that drive disaster tourism  [seeing is believing aspect].

No doubt about it, this phenomena, which some consider unethical also magnifies a genuine need for help, and is especially helpful for areas that are not so well known.  In the case of the Haitian earthquake it also brought to light widespread poverty and poor building codes  that added to the near complete destruction of many areas in this island country.

Much has been written and verbalized regarding the devastation caused by Superstorm Sandy, like a recent Yahoo news article, and there are even websites dedicated to disasters as a form of tourism.

California wildfires light up night sky
flickr photo by mbtrama

According to www.disastertourism.co.uk website, “Disaster Tourism hopes to stimulate and educate by taking you to the scene of disasters.” . . . “and providing you with a once in a lifetime experience.”  They further state in their TSUNAMI Volunteering sales pitch: “By joining us your assistance will be two-fold; firstly, through your volunteer work, and secondly by bringing much needed business to the area. They end up adding, “We’re not forgetting that this will also be your main holiday … so we’ll do our best to make sure it’s fun as well as offering you a unique opportunity to get more involved with the local people,”

In the long run, it really comes down to your interpretation of disaster tourism.  Can your presence amidst chaos be helpful?  Yes!  Can your presence amidst chaos be a hindrance?  Yes!

Perhaps travel blogger Amanda Kendle defines Disaster Tourism best, in her article “How Soon is Too Soon After a Natural Disaster?”  One thing we can all agree upon, when a community’s livelihood is leveled, like a tornado, hurricane or earthquake ravished area, there is little for tourists to see, but if they were classified as a disaster tourist, perhaps they are seeing what the rest of us are missing. 

A note to the American Red Cross, Salvation Army and numerous agencies (who are not tourists of any kind) that show up for every disaster; THANK YOU!  

I didn’t want to read Twenty-Six by Leo McKay, Jr. even though it was chosen by the powers that be to be the one book all Nova Scotia should read this year. One Book Nova Scotia. It’s a new thing.

Why didn’t I want to read it? Well, because it has all the gritty bits of both CanLit and Atlantic Literature – filled with poverty, drinking, disasters, mines, mining disasters, generations of doomed families, family dynamics, and so on. It seemed heavy going. I prefer a bit of joy in my reading.

Like when the villains are captured in mysteries, for example.

But there I was at the library, waiting for a workshop on researching to begin, and it was RIGHT there, in front of me. The librarian waiting to give the talk recommended it. She said it was a quick read and that there were several times she felt tears coming over her when reading it on the bus. She seemed the type to appreciate good writing – how could I define that? Hmm. She had intelligent eyes, a sense of humour, a feeling of joy in discovery, a genuine thrill when asked to explore new ideas or research areas.

I liked her. That was probably the reason. If I like someone and I think I have an appreciation for good books, ergo, she must have the same.

So…well…I picked it up. Still a bit hesitant, still not really wanting to wander in its grimness. The first character introduced has the unlikely name of Ziv. He’s drunk (not unlikely in an Atlantic book). He lives in a mining town. A dilapidated mining town.

And suddenly all the stuff I’ve learned about place and literature and how Atlantic Canadian writers see their lives thrust against the backdrop of sea and death and weather god damn it the weather and the war and hardship and on and on leapt into my mind and I just had to read it.

Even though I know I’ll want a drink after I’m done.

Oh, and btw? One Book Nova Scotia ended on November 9th for 2012. I’m already behind. They suggest I try Nanowrimo, which I’m doing too but have delayed to read this book.

And let me tell you about the weather….

A window in time. Fire destroyed this historic 1913 building in rural Montana. One of the main reasons I photograph these historic structures (besides that they are cool) is to preserve their history before it is lost. Didn’t quite make it to this one in time.

Aug 15, 2012

The latest victim of ‘disaster tourism’ is the Tuscan island of Giglio, which lies close to where the wreck of Costa Concordia still lies.

The cruise ship hit rocks on January 13 this year while carrying more than 4,000 passengers. The tragedy claimed up to 32 lives with some bodies still missing.

In nearby Santo Stefano, about 15km east and attached to the Italian mainland, tourists are queuing up to buy tickets for a ferry crossing to Giglio.

Ticket touts advertise the 10 euro tickets as a chance to see the stricken cruise ship as the ferries pass within metres of the Concordia, meaning tourists can take photos of the vessel.

Giglio’s mayor, Sergio Ortelli, confirmed: ‘There has been a rise in the number of tourists coming for the day, with curious people taking photos of the giant sprawled on the rocks.’ He said the island had become ‘a sort of museum’.

However, while the presence of the half-submerged cruise ship has encouraged inquisitive holidaymakers to visit the island for a day, it has had a negative effect on hotel reservations and holiday lettings.

Mayor Ortelli added: ‘We prefer tourism that’s based on the sea and the environment.’

If it is not hampered by bad weather, the operation to re-float the ship and remove it should be complete by next year, Ortelli said.

From there, it will be towed to a port, dismantled and scrapped. Giglio’s environment councillor, Alessandro Centurioni, said: ‘The Concordia has become part of our landscape, but it has also spoiled it. Every time I see it, I feel the pain and sadness once more.’

The Costa Concordia isn’t the first time disaster tourism has taken hold following a tragedy.

Earlier this year, passengers paid more than £4000 each to join a cruise following the exact route of the Titanic and mark the 100th anniversary since it sank.

Hordes of tourists have visited the site of the World Trade Center to see the gaping hole left by the 9/11 terror attacks. And Christchurch, in New Zealand, is also considering offering bus tours of the Red Zone following the earthquake which destroyed whole sections of the city in February 2011, killing 185 people.

There is even a UK website which claims to help people plan their disaster tourism trips to tsunami and volcano zones.

The website disastertourism.co.uk reads: ‘Do you have a unique disaster related experience yearning to be quenched? How about skydiving in Afghanistan, or helping extinguish a bush fire in Australia? Perhaps you have thought it was not possible?

‘We can make your vision a reality – combining compatible countries, activities and taking care of the logistics.’

While disaster tourism is considered unpalatable by some sectors of the travel industry, it is a fast-growing area that shows no sign of abating.

Just another peaceful day on this hot summer afternoon in Budapest. I was about to take a shower but there was no water. I even got upset about my landlady that she forgot to tell me, again, that there is going to be a maintenance. So let’s go out for a cigarette. As my girlfriend opened the door to the balcony this massive cacophony caught my attention, as it was nothing like the cars usually make. Suddenly she was screaming and told me to take a look at what was happening.

I’ve seen this street, Bartók Béla, under water before, during a storm, but this was breathtaking. I immediately grabbed my camera and ran to the street.

As it turned out one of the underground pipelines broke and erupted in the nearby Orlay street.

Naturally, public transportation, trams and buses have been shut down. Cars have been redirected, some by the police, some by the surge of water.

This Mini, has been moved 200 meters by the water. The unfortunate owner of the car, who works at the nearby Café, had to witness this scene.

Starting at 4:45 PM the water flowed for nearly 2 hours straight meanwhile flooding a small part of Bartók Béla street and Szent Gellért square.

By 11:00 PM, the pipeline has been sealed shut, the water is gone. City maintenance is trying to clean up the debris and towing away cars that have been damaged.

According to the news it will be a few days before the damage in Orlay street will be restored. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get closer to the hole where the water came from, but it seemed to be huge. Moreover, the water washed out part of the foundation of the adjacent 4 story building, so people had to be evacuated. No news since.

For more pictures click here.

On Sunday, March 18, 2012 we (Lia and her boyfriend, ana, and Grace) took a trip to our first destination. We went to Merapi, Klaten, Central Java, to cover the former tourist attractions disaster, which in tourism terminology, it is more common to be known as disaster tourism. As we know, in the year of 2010 and then, Merapi erupted and spit out lavas, with the materials in it. Many lives and properties were lost due to the disaster.

We left Solo using the motorbikes. Lia was on one motorbike with her boyfriend, and Grace was on one with Ana. Right at 7 in the morning we departed from Unisri. We were impressed because the trip was smooth and the weather was also nice. Yes, the weather was overcast and the road quite a roll. Maybe because we left quite early in the morning. When we reached the gateway to the village village / area of the mountain, that was when the road began to get bumpy. There were many holes  here and there. It was rather ironic, the roads were heavily damaged because there are lots of trucks using the narrow road everyday. The weather was starting to get chilly so we had to tighten our jackets  :P

Before we knew it, it was already 08:40 and we had reached the base of the mountain

As it is shown in the picture, the area close to the mountain is covered by plants, which is not a wonder, because that area wasnt heavily affected by the eruption.

The most affected area was the area that is about 4-5 kilometers away from the mountain.

That area is called Cangkringan.

We had to pass the torturous twisting and turning road to Cangkringan.

On our way to Cangkringan, we saw a very unique signage, here is the picture of it :

Whoever wants to visit Mbah Marijan cemetery,

the spiritual guardian or ‘gatekeeper’ of Mount Merapi, can take a right turn from here.

Unfortunately, we could not do so.

When we got to Cangkringan, we saw the whole area was covered by sands. We could not imagine that the place was once inhabited by people. We could not imagine what they had been through.  That place now functions as sand mining area.

We even saw a house that is badly damaged, it looks like the house is now empty, no one lives there.

Another interesting scene was when we saw a woman carrying a huge piece of wood.

She will use it as a cooking fuel.

It seems like some people will have a new job after the disaster.

Yeah, its true what they say ‘there is a beautiful rainbow after the rain’

That is all we can say about the trip.Before we headed home,

we took some time to take a few pictures.  Yeah, some narcissistic times ! .

But Ana did not join us because

she said she has done that many times before.

We headed home at 9:30.

On our way to home, because we were hungry, we decided to take a stop at some warung to have something to eat.  Around 12 pm, we arrived in Solo safe and sound .  It was a nice trip, but also a tiring one as well.

Ah, here is the video we recorded during the trip Enjoy it and see you on the next trip!

[[VID]]

Now, I should clarify what he meant by “disaster tourism” as opposed to “dark tourism” or some of the other tourism categories that are casually thrown around. This guy’s definition (and I don’t remember his name or I would refer to him by it rather than “this guy”) was that although the disaster could be man-made, to qualify as legitimate disaster tourism, the incident could not have been intentional. It had to have been accidental, or at least an unintended consequence, otherwise it would belong in the dark tourism category. Thus, an accidental nuclear meltdown or a devastating forest fire could be on the disaster tourism list, while an intentional event like Auschwitz would be off the list as, being intentional, it would fall under the dark tourism label.

Got it?

This is not a precise science and there can certainly be some overlap between the various categories since dark tourism is far more general and could apply equally to a place such as the JFK assassination site or to Chernobyl.

A place such as the “Bone Church” in Kutna Hora (pictured below) outside Prague, where a local artisan made sculptures out of human bones, is somewhat difficult to classify.  It’s not really the scene of an accident since the creation of the church was intentional, but the stacks of bones and bodies that needed to be dealt with were primarily the result of a series of disasters and accidents.  So, you can decide for yourself on that one.  I’m not interested in worrying that much about it.

Lastly, for those that reflexively recoil in horror at the idea of objectifying someone else’s misery… Tell me, have you ever craned your head to see a car accident along the side of the road?  Have you ever visited Pompeii?  Or wanted to?  Have you ever gone to the beach to watch the waves crash into the shore ahead of a big hurricane?  Or driven around after a blizzard to see all of the trees that were knocked down?  Or walked a block out of your way to see a building damaged by a recent earthquake?

Sorry, but all of those are a form of disaster tourism… After all, someone does not necessarily need to perish in order for a site to merit disaster destination status.

Anyway, the below is a list of the sites I could come up with off of the top of my head…  I’ve focused more on recent history because if there isn’t much to see, the site is less compelling, no?  And, yes, this list is almost certainly Western-centric since I am working from memory and events in the Western world naturally receive more play in the Western press.  Oh, and in a shameless act of self-promotion for your convenience, I have linked, above and below, to those areas discussed here that have previously been written about by The Velvet Rocket:

THE DISASTER DESTINATION LIST

Pompeii and Herculaneum, Italy

Buried by eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 AD

Centralia, Pennsylvania, USA

Subterranean coal fire burning since 1962 has slowly consumed town

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA

2005 Hurricane Katrina destroyed much of New Orleans and left more than 1,800 dead

Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant, Ukraine

The world’s only Level 7 nuclear accident

Pripyat, Ukraine

Post-apocalyptic landscape following Chernobyl reactor meltdown was once home to 50,000 residents

Aberfan, Wales

1966 collapse of mine tailings above village killed 116 children and 28 adults

Bikini Atoll, Marshall Islands

The United States conducted 67 nuclear tests on Bikini atoll during the 1940s and 1950s

Nevada National Security Site, Nevada, USA

Almost a thousand nuclear tests since 1951

Port-au-Prince, Haiti

2010 earthquake left hundreds of thousands dead

Mount Merapi, Yogyakarta, Indonesia

2010 eruption killed over 350 people and displaced another 400,000

Band Aceh, Indonesia

2004 tsunami left up to 310,000 dead

Gruinard Island, Scotland

520-acre island was British government’s World War II bioweapons test site

Stevens Pass, Washington, USA

1910 Wellington Avalanche which killed 96 people is still the worst avalanche in U.S. history

Donghekou Quake Relief Park, Sichuan, China

2008 earthquake killed more than 90,000, but the Chinese have made a theme park and tour out of the event

The Great Pacific Garbage Patch, Pacific Ocean

Conglomeration of trash in the ocean northeast of Hawaii is twice the size of Texas

Bethnal Green Tube Station, London, England

1943 panic left 173 trampled to death

Union Carbide India Limited pesticide plant, Bhopal, India

December 1984 leak of toxic gas killed 2,000 people immediately and thousands more in the following years due to the aftereffects

Eyjafjallajökull, Iceland

2010 eruptions wreaked havoc with air travel

Mount St. Helens, Washington, USA

Dramatic 1980 eruption which killed 57 people was the deadliest and most economically destructive volcanic event in the history of the United States

Salang Pass, Afghanistan

2010 avalanches killed 172 people

The above list is far from complete, so please feel free to add your suggestions in the comment section below…

******

As is evidenced by Lisa Wade’s relatively recent commentary on disaster tourism, not everyone finds such an elastic line between insensitive voyeurism and education in the world of disaster tourism:

“Imagine having lost loved ones and seen your house nearly destroyed. After a year out of town, you’re in your nastiest clothes mucking sludge out of your bottom floor, fearful that the money will run out before you can get your house, the house that your grandmother bought and passed down to you through your mother, put back together. Imagine that — as you push a wheelbarrow out into the sunlight, blink as you adjust to the brightness, and push your hair off your forehead, leaving a smudge of mud — a bus full of cameras flash at you, taking photographs of your trauma, effort, and fear. And then they take that photo back to their cozy, dry home and show it to their friends, who ooh and aah about how cool it was that they got to see the aftermath of the flood.

The person who made this sign… this is what they may have been feeling.”

Perhaps not surprisingly, I do not share the above sentiments… And I can say that having been on both sides of the issue.

In 1997 a forest fire devastated the Ames estate.  The fire started in a neighboring community and, through the coordinated efforts of ground and air crews, remained small throughout the day. However, the fire fighters were not able to get the fire completely out…

When night fell, the aircraft that had been containing the fire had to be called off as they risked crashing in the difficult mountainous terrain.  Almost immediately the blaze exploded into a firestorm that, within only hours, burned thousands of acres, destroyed well over 100 homes and resulted in a staggering loss of life for the local flora and fauna.  The Ames estate was dead center in the path of the fire.

However, despite the destruction that was visited upon us, I would have been happy to show anyone around that was interested.  The force with which the inferno roared over the area was interesting and I’m not going to be offended by someone’s curiosity.

As is the case for many people, my reasons for travelling to such destinations are very personal. I’m interested in visiting places that have had a particular effect on me in my life. Other people are maybe drawn to visit sites of destruction, historical tragedy or crime for various and different reasons. Some do it for pure rubber-necking thrills or even a spot of Schadenfreude. Others visit for education, even as a form of penance. For me, I think my travels are an attempt to connect with history. I’ve always been obsessed with current affairs. By visiting these places I get a perspective, a physical connection to events that I wouldn’t otherwise have.

This week we heard that a new hostel is about to open in Detroit  and while it’s not the kind of hotel we would usually feature, what struck us was that this is the first hostel to open there in the last 15 years! And that’s because up until now, nobody in their right mind would want to go to Detroit. So we thought, hell! – that’s  worth a story.

feel good: Detroit Hostel

The Detroit Hostel is a not-for-profit project by local residents in a bid to attract visitors to this declining city. It’s the brain-child of the aptly named Emily Doerr, a 25-year-old local woman, who got the idea after hosting about 100 guests at her condo through the Couch Surfing site. Her dream is to bring visitors to Detroit, put them in touch with local and creative businesses and help revitalise the city. (Next step, the world.)

The hostel is as ambitious as it is unexpected, over the last few years the news about Detroit has been increasingly grim – the financial recession pushing the already fading industrial city into a spectacular downfall.While most worry about the explosive social situation brought about by such economic decline, the apocalyptic images coming out of downtown Detroit are so extraordinary that they may actually start attracting architecture lovers and disaster tourists. Interested readers can check out Lost Detroit: Stories Behind the Motor City’s Majestic Ruins written by Dan Austin with photographs by Sean Doerr (Ed – more Do-ers!). The book documents the city’s abandoned buildings while celebrating their architecture and the people who lived and worked in them (if you’re in town, pick up a copy at the cute independent book store Leopold’s Books).

Apocalypse now: Fisher Body 21 Plant, Detroit. (Image: © Yves Marchand and Romain Meffre)

Suspicious smiles: Highland Park Police Station, Detroit (Image © Yves Marchand and Romain Meffre)

Then early this year French duo Yves Marchand and Romain Meffre published their own book, The Ruins of Detroit, which documents in hauntingly beautiful and eerie photographs the dramatic decline of this major American city (pictured). From abandoned plants and public buildings to the Highland Park Police Station (above) – with thousands of photos of suspects still scattered on the floor – to the Ballroom of the 15-floor art-deco Lee Plaza Hotel (below) with its grand piano tilted upside down. Many of downtown Detroit’s once grand hotels, movie houses, and theatres as well as public infrastructure such as libraries and schools look like they have been abandoned in haste, Chernobyl-like. Sadly it is not the result of nuclear blast but what happens when capitalism is allowed to rampage unchecked. (And looters and vandals capitalise on government neglect.)Watch the full slideshow here.

Collapse of civilisation: art deco ballroom, Lee Plaza Hotel (Image © Yves Marchand and Romain Meffre)

The reproduction of these photographs in high-profile publications ranging from The Guardian to Time Magazine put Detroit back in the headlines, for all the wrong reasons. These images of a so-called ‘first world’ city also reminded us of another project, The DDD project (Detroit Disney Demolition), whichreceived some coverage from our friends at GOOD a few years ago.

Back in 2006/07 four Detroit artists were drawing attention to the increasing number of abandoned houses by covering them in buckets of “Tiggerific” Orange paint – a blinding color from the Mickey Mouse series, easily purchased from Home Depot. Every board, every door, every window, was caked in Tiggeriffic Orange, beautifying the carcasses of these derelict homes  and drawing attention to the plight of local residents whose neighbourhoods were crumbling. Part artistic endeavour, part social crusade, the project triggered a debate and raised interesting questions, especially when most of the 16 houses painted orange were immediately demolished by the City. The anonymous crew asked: What’s the bigger crime? Letting entire neighbourhood fall apart or turning them into art?

Travel to Detroit: To book a bed at Emily’s venture contact the Detroit Hostel. Volunteers have donated and decorated the building and while it’s not flash, the result a clean, homely, personal and reasonably priced hostel (bunks US$25; doubles $45) where your hosts are 100% enthusiastic to hook you up with the best the city has to offer, including local volunteer ‘Ambassadors’. (More than a hostel, it’s like becoming part of the family.) You might consider timing you visit to coincide with veteran techno event, the Detroit Electronic Music Festival, held on Memorial Day Weekend in May. To find our ‘What’s on’ the rest of the year, you could check out the Positive Detroit blog by young local writer who’s also committed to looking on the bright side. (Go Detroit!)

If hostels ain’t your thing, go to the other end of the scale and book yourself a room at the Book Cadillac Hotel, the Westin recently spent $200, 000 on a spruce up  in an attempt to return it to its former glory. While it hasn’t entirely escaped a corporate vibe, it retains some lovely architectural features and offers a chance to experience old-style Detroit.  The Inn on Ferry Street, a cosy B&B with elegant interiors in a nice neighbourhood is somewhere in between. Update! Check out the new hipster B&B Honor and Folly -  book one or two bedrooms in creatively-minded digs.

With two new hotel ventures, maybe Detroit is about to make a come-back? (Fingers crossed.)

Postscript: We sent a link of this story to hostel founder Emily who wrote back to us with this nice note: “Hello and THANK YOU!!! It’s been a whirlwind first month of being open, and I can’t thank you enough for your support – it’s coverage like this that has us sold out for Memorial Day weekend, and reservations booking already throughout the summer!” Isn’t it great to have good news? Best of luck to the Detroit Hostel from us.

(Americans who wish to donate should support the St. Bernard Project directly).

To make an online donation to the entire group please see the following steps:

1. Go To
http://www.ryerson.ca/supporting/onlinegiving

2. Go down the section that states

Step 1: Gift Information
Your gift may be designated for use in multiple areas. Choose the designations for your gift by clicking on the link below.

Choose Gift Designation

Click here to choose the designation(s) for your gift
(Click the bolded line above that takes you into a fund destination tree)

3. This brings you to the Fund Selection Page
You will see that New Orleans Community Services Trip has been added as a direct link to select to make a gift.

Click New Orleans …. and make the gift. Help us rebuild!!

Recently, I worked with Parks Canada to promote their speaker’s bureau and work that they are doing. Several members of Parks Canada were in New Orleans last week to attend the George Wright Society biennial conference.

While we weren’t able to garner as much publicity as we would have liked, one of the speakers bureau members – Denyse Lajeunesse – spoke at Tom Sherry’s Conservation Biology class in the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology at Tulane University about Canada’s parks, bio-diversity and species at risk.  (They have a Dr. Darwin there even!!)

I learned a lot I didn’t know about Canada’s parks including that camping is on the decline, in part, because many new Canadians come from backgrounds where living in tents may have been part of an unhappy experience, rather than the fun experience it was for me as a child. We used to camp across the country when younger, and then set up a tent in my parents backyard for fun.

I also learned a lot about species at risk, and the success Canada is having rebuilding populations of endangered animals.

There was also a Parks Canada booth set-up to provide information about the work that is being done.

2011 is the 100th anniversary of Parks Canada. So there was also cake presented by the President of the George Wright Society board. Parks Canada is the oldest national park service in the world!! Go team Canada!!

The CEO of Parks Canada and the US National Parks Service spoke at a plenary on the future of parks. Both spoke about some amazingly innovative programs that are taking place across both countries to draw attention to both the wildlife aspects of parks and historic sites (which fall under the purview of parks). In New Orleans for example, Jean Lafitte park includes the Wildlife Preserve in Lafitte, the French Quarter and the Chalmette Battlefield, site of the Battle of New Orleans in 1815, where for some reason the US thinks it won  the War of 1812.

I also took Parks Canada folks on tours of the areas hardest hit by Katrina. They were able to see firsthand some of the devastation that continues here, as well as the impact of environmental degradation in Bayou Bienvenue.

Note– this trip is not a foray into disaster tourism (at least from my perspective, it isn’t).  This is a concept that I have just recently learned about.

Best,

B

Part 1: Chernobyl and Reactor # 4

Until the late 1990s it would have been impossible for me to come here. The whole area was sealed off.  Now though, the United Nations is encouraging “ecotourism” to the former Chernobyl disaster zone in order to help the area get back on its feet. Not one to ignore a call to arms (economic or otherwise), I rushed to book tickets to Kiev, Ukraine for my Italian interpreter and I. Who am I to defy the wishes of the United Nations?

However, I think I’d call it nuclear tourism instead of ecotourism. Ecotourism seems a rather disingenuous term as it conjures up images of sleeping in a comfy hammock in the Costa Rican rain forest at a “sustainable” hostel rather than celebrating the true glory that is Chernobyl.

Ecotourism or nuclear tourism though, to get to the Chernobyl disaster site one drives two hours north of Kiev, through idyllic, low, rolling hills. Fields of corn and golden seas of wheat spread across the landscape, while islands of pine, cottonwood and birch trees break up the near-flat panorama.  Once near the Chernobyl site, one must pass through security checkpoints in two separate exclusion zones at 30 km and 10 km, respectively.  After passing through the first exclusion zone, one must make their way into the former city of Chernobyl (now a town if you take its population into account). Chernobyl, which the power plant takes its name from, was evacuated shortly after the 1986 catastrophe.  These days, it’s primarily a collection of decaying buildings, many still bearing the CCCP insignia.  Some hardy individuals still live and work here though, including the zone’s administrative personnel and a handful of evacuated residents that insisted on returning.  Workers in various states of military attire (the fatigues/flip flops combination was a popular choice) walk alongside Lenin Street, past the aboveground pipes and abandoned structures.

Once in the town of Chernobyl, you check in along with your driver at the “Chornobylinterinform”, a shabby, yellow building housing the offices of the “Ministry of Ukraine of Emergencies and Affairs of Population Protection from the Consequences of Chornobyl Catastrophe.”  We were directed upstairs into a dimly lit room decorated with colorful maps of radiation fallout and photographs of the Chernobyl cleanup efforts.  And it is here that you see me signing the “Rules for foreign and domestic delegations to be complied with during their visit to the exclusion zone and the zone of absolute (mandatory) resettlement” which are in reality a waiver for the  government of Ukraine.  We are members of a delegation, not tourists, we are reminded.  Ahhhhh, OK. Cool.

It is also here that we meet our guide. And I’m afraid I’ve forgotten his name, but if he recognizes himself in the pictures below, he can contact me for full credit  (Technically, you are allowed into the Chernobyl exclusion zone without a guide if you have written permission from the government of Ukraine.  And good luck getting that permission if you are foolish enough to try).

Our guide assures me that we are safe. “Maybe two or three visitors become contaminated every year,” he says. “They are always the ones who are most afraid.” He has a theory about radiation, you see. He thinks it’s like children or animals — only attracted to you if it knows you’re scared.

We carry on through the town of Chernobyl…

In the city of Chernobyl there stands a very modest memorial to the firefighters who rushed to Reactor # 4  in the immediate aftermath of the explosion.

The writing reads: “To those who saved the world.”

The firefighters who initially responded to the disaster on the morning of April 26, 1986 were  not aware that they were entering a radioactive environment, and rushed to the plant without donning protective suits and respirators. While they worked to extinguish the fires, their bodies absorbed astronomical doses of radiation, and most of them died of Acute Radiation Sickness a short time later.

We carry on toward the nuclear reactors…

As if to drive home this point about ecotourism, the Chernobyl exclusion zone is now a “wildlife reservation.”  Our guide describes this as if it were a positive decision by an enlightened government, rather than the inevitable byproduct of evacuating 3,000sq km of irradiated forest.

The persistent clicking of the Geiger counter is a pleasant white noise in the background of our beautiful day in the countryside.

Click, click, click…

We pass another checkpoint and enter the 10km exclusion zone that encircles the V.I. Lenin Memorial Chernobyl Nuclear Power Station. Our driver stops again and we find ourselves standing on the empty road staring at large mounds of dirt liberally sprinkled with radiation warning signs. Our guide explained that this was the village of Kopachi and as part of the Chernobyl cleanup effort, the town was bulldozed and buried underneath tons of earth.

Those mounds in the foreground are the remnants of Kopachi and that strange structure in the distance is part of a large military complex, the Chernobyl-2 radar station, that had to be abandoned after the nuclear disaster.

Click, click, click goes the Geiger counter.

We carry on to the Chernobyl nuclear complex…

A cooling tower.

Our guide is checking the radiation levels along the canal.  The water in the canal is connected to the cooling ponds which were used for keeping the nuclear reactors from overheating.  That’s Chernobyl Reactor # 5 behind our guide.  It was under construction in 1986 when Chernobyl Reactor # 4 exploded and then melted down – putting a damper on the Chernobyl #5 construction project.

Seemed like a good time to snap a picture of myself as well.  In the distant background you can see the power station.

A closeup.  The tower on the left is the site of Chernobyl Reactor #4.

Driving past this point of the power station, we were advised that photography was strictly prohibited for security reasons. Naturally, I took this photograph to serve your viewing needs, dear readers, but this picture is necessarily clandestine and sadly reflects that in its shaky quality.

Pulling in to the power station, we were led to this railroad bridge that spans the canal seen in the earlier pictures.  In the canal directly below us, we could see the water churning with catfish and trout. A loaf of bread was passed around and we took turns throwing pieces of it into the water, watching as the bits of bread were devoured by the absolutely enormous catfish below.  Seriously, these catfish are massive – easily hundreds of pounds and bigger than an adult human.  I tried taking pictures of them, but the glare from the sun on the water ruined the pictures.  We were soon joined on the bridge by a group of power station workers (The power plant is slowly being decommissioned) who had brought along their own bread to feed the monster catfish.  Not a bad way to spend your cigarette break, I suppose.

I stroll across the bridge and snap these additional pictures of the Chernobyl nuclear complex.

Click, click, click goes the Geiger counter in the background.

These are the headquarters of the nuclear complex.  They represent the best in Soviet architecture.

There are plenty of signs like this around.  Just in case you forget where you are, I suppose.

But, we were off because Reactor # 4 is just around the back, on the westernmost edge of the nuclear power station.  Reactor # 4 is a massive structure now as following the 1986 disaster a concrete and steel “sarcophagus” was built around the site to contain the radioactive materials inside.  One problem – the sarcophagus is beginning to crack and leak.  However, we were assured that the government of Ukraine is “working on the problem”.

And so this is what remains of the infamous reactor, in its sarchophagus-bound glory (to view an image with much higher resolution, scroll down to the last image of Reactor # 4 and click on it)…

At the moment all that can be seen of Reactor No 4 is a building encased in concrete: there appears to be no human element at all.

It was a very different scene on April 25, 1986. Reactor # 4 was shut down for routine maintenance; plant officials thought it would be a good time to see if enough electrical power could be maintained to operate emergency equipment and the cooling pumps for the reactor core.

At 1 a.m. on April 26 it all went wrong. As the system began to break down, the reactor was starved of water and temperatures rose dramatically. Operators could not prevent a power surge, estimated at more than 100 times normal levels. The increase in temperature caused part of the nuclear fuel tank to rupture. Fuel particles then mixed with water, triggering a steam explosion that destroyed the core.

A second explosion two minutes later finished it off.  Thousands of tons of radioactive dust and debris escaped, sending a deadly radioactive cloud over Ukraine, Russia, Belarus, Western Europe and eventually the whole northern hemisphere.

I held up the Geiger counter to the reactor and you can see it begins to steadily climb.

CLICK, CLICK, CLICK, CLICK, CLICK…

It is estimated that more than one hundred times the radiation of the Hiroshima bomb was released during the accident — the equivalent of 50 million to 250 million grams of radium. More than 40 different radioisotopes were released, and there was a measurable rise in cesium-137 levels across the entire European continent.

A parting glance – You are by the biggest radioactive leak in the world and should savor the moment because it isn’t safe to stay here for very long.

The real treat though, as you shall soon see, is Pripyat…

Fun Facts about Chernobyl:

Chernobyl Facts

* 30 people were immediately killed by the explosions.

* From 1986-87, 240,000 people took part in the clean-up operations at the plant and up to 30km around. The clean-up continued until 1990 and eventually involved 600,000 people including scientists, miners, and Soviet military conscripts.

* 116,000 people were evacuated from the surrounding area in 1986; later a further 220,000 people were relocated in the former Soviet republics of Belarus, Ukraine and the Russian Federation.

* Highest radiation doses were received by about 600 emergency and plant workers on site the night of the accident. An estimated 100 people died almost immediately, but because of Soviet failure to keep records, the exact number is not known.

I strongly recommend the documentary: The Battle of Chernobyl for further information on this event.  Among other interesting tidbits, it explains the real death toll of the Chernobyl disaster as well as describing how close the Reactor # 4 explosion came to triggering a secondary nuclear explosion that would have made most of Europe uninhabitable.

This article on Inventorspot.com goes even further with ten different ways social media can help during a hurricane season.

Examples:

4- Communication- Hurricane Katrina illustrated that a widespread disaster can displace residents and employees without access to Internet connections or working land-lines. In advance of natural disasters, less-traditional communication methods might include two-way radios, cellular telephones with out-of-state area codes and/or text messaging capability, satellite telephones, or personal data assistant (PDAs). Cell phones that have access to social networks can be used to report one’s location and current status.

5- People Finders- Twitter, Facebook and other social networks should devise a ‘disaster recovery plan’ to assist in locating people that are stranded by a storm. Perhaps similar to a 911 call to a police station, postings to a central location on these social networks with one’s location and contact information could be another means for the distressed to reach out to family and loved ones. In reverse, the social networks can communicate safe-house facilities in various areas that can provide the displaced with updated shelter locations.

Don’t let anyone ever tell you that New Orleans is doing just fine three years after Hurricane Katrina.

Sure, it’s true that some areas of the city, like the French Quarter or the Garden District, seem back to normal, with swarms of tourists, drinks flowing, and the leisurely pace and laid-back attitude the city is famous for on full display. And it’s also true that there are parts of town where you’d never know anything bad happened.

But in the Lower Ninth Ward, the poverty-stricken part of New Orleans that took the biggest hit from the 2005 storm and the floods that followed, a sign I saw on Sunday perhaps sums up exactly what is going on there:

“Tourist,” the sign exhorts, “Shame on you, driving by without stopping. Paying to see my pain. 1,600+ died here.”

MORE HERE…

Cosa rimane a L’Aquila dopo il passaggio dei G[randi] 8?

Le rovine del terremoto o, forse, una nuova moda turistica, denominata “disaster tourism”.

Obama davanti alle rovine del terremoto a L'Aquila

Leggiamo questo articolo, tra gossip e sarcasmo, di Robin Givhan pubblicato sul Washington Post (vai all’articolo originale del 10/0//2009)

Crepe nel simbolismo della visita terremotesca delle mogli del G8. Nella “ground-zero” italiana, eleganza in mezzo alle rovine.

Raramente una visita simbolica di una First Lady ad un luogo di sofferenza è stata coreografata per ottenere così poco impatto emotivo.

L’articolo descrive la visita di Obama e di Michelle all’interna dell’Aquila e dice:

Tutti i residenti del centro della città erano stati evacuati, con molte persone costrette a vivere nelle tendopoli. L’intera area aveva un’aria misteriosa: l’unico suono, a parte il sommesso vocìo dei giornalisti, erano i fischi altisonanti degli uccellini annidati nei vecchi alberi.

Le donne apparivano strane in questa ground zero delle sofferenze umane. Erano vestite per il pranzo che sarebbe immediatamente seguito alla loro passeggiata in mezzo ai detriti. (La Signora Obama, con i capelli raccolti, indossava un top verde lime con una gonna a pieghe ed un cardigan a maniche corte, con motivi floreali gialli e bianchi). E mentre molte spose indossavano cappelli – inclusa Obama – la loro eleganza da ora di pranzo in mezzo al disastro, insieme alla velocità con cui i loro accompagnatori le spingevano attraverso il sito, hanno dato all’intera scena l’aspetto del Turismo da Disastro.

Si sa che il summit era stato spostato dalla Sardegna all’Aquila, proprio per attirare l’attenzione e finanziamenti verso questa regione devastata dal terremoto.

Le mogli dei Grandi 8 hanno fatto una visita simbolica. Si trattava di una tattica per far risuonare le corde emotive della comunità internazionale. Ma l’evento è stato organizzato come una gita da campo estivo, mancava solo la guida turistica con l’ombrello per aria.

I VIP guardavano e vedevano il palazzo del governo collassato,  ed era difficile non rimanere colpiti dalla violenza e dalla vastità dei danni provocati dal terremoto. Forse le signore riuscivano ad immaginare le vite che lì di solito trascorrevano prima che fossero alterate dal disastro. Con la sola forza dell’immaginazione, perché l’unica cosa che veniva mostrata alle “spose” della gita era tanta spazzatura. Non c’era nessuno che spiegava, in termini umani, perché la spazzatura avesse tanta importanza.

Big h/t to Oyster for calling out this 2 Cent production.

“Yeah” I agreed and went for my own smokes, wedged deep tight in the breast pocket of my black jean jacket. I felt, as I did so, that my tiny lighter tip sideways and roll underneath the pack, which couldn’t be removed without much fussing. I nodded at Dan for help. He patted his pockets, and unable to find the lighter he just had in his hands, handed me the cigarette.

“Thanks.” I said, pressing mine to his and inhaling.

“You’re welcome.”

“Here,” I said, handing his rollie somewhat gracelessly back to him, billowing smoke at his head as he reached in– I had inhaled too much getting lit and therefore leaned on the rail with a sudden head rush.

Below us Lower Manhattan was a spectacular scene of dust. Still. It had been what, six days?  It was crazy to see it; local news broadcasts weren’t showing pictures. They seemed primarily concerned with 1) airing new, spectacular footage of Tuesday’s events in slow motion; 2) providing tragic personal interest pieces on grieving families; and 3) speculating on Whodunnit/The War Against TBA.

A flood of questions in varying orders of meaning and practicality. How were people still working down there? Would we be able to visit our friends in the Red Zone soon? When would we start hearing about pockets of survivors? That there would be no kind of Lazarus of Secaucus down in the Path rubble was inconceivable.

We speculated about  the massive damage to transportation infrastructure; we were smart enough to grasp the longitudinal effect on lower Manhattan service/support/retail industries. We also guessed that Christine Whitman was full of shit about the air safety; we knew too many people with asthma from being around fucking cars to see black smoke and think anything but “stay the fuck away.”

I can’t tell you what was going through Dan’s head, but I remember thinking to myself within a minute that it was something we oughtn’t to have wanted to see: that we were engaging in a perverse brand of tourism. Like people used to take picnic baskets to the fields of battle, before the range of gunfire and explosives made it too unpalatable. I wondered if anybody, back in those days, had the same desire I felt then to pack up and leave.

Dan caught how I was feeling, or else felt the same… we went back inside. But even from inside, there was a spectacular view.

Ross Peizer, from Seattle, WA, attended Boston University, where he majored in Communication, with concentrations in Public Relations and Psychology. Ross serves as the Intake Assistant at Rebuilding Together New Orleans, helping homeowners through the application system to receive assistance and finally get their homes rebuilt. Ross functions as the primary point of contact with homeowners and acts as an advocate on their behalf, both within the organization and with other agencies citywide.

My parents were in town for Thanksgiving. It was their first time to New Orleans so they decided to go on a tour. When I asked them what they had seen they said, the Garden District, St Charles Ave, Uptown, Brad Pitt’s house and Bob Dylan’s old house. I asked if they had gone to the Lower Ninth Ward or seen any blighted houses? They told me what their tour guide said, “This isn’t a Katrina Tour.”

A “Katrina Tour!”

My blood boils. There should not be two different tours. This is one city.

I work at Rebuilding Together New Orleans, a nonprofit organization devoted to getting low income and elderly homeowners back into their homes.

Right before Thanksgiving, I visited a homeowner who was ripped off by a contractor for $139,000 and is living in his gutted home without running water or a safe electricity source.

This is New Orleans.

Screw a “Katrina Tour.”

Tourists come, visit the French Quarter, ride the St Charles street car and then go home and report that New Orleans has recovered.  But they are not seeing the whole picture; there are blighted homes right off of St Charles in Central City. I probably bummed my family out by telling them these things while we were out at a fancy restaurant, but at least they know.

If you’re coming to New Orleans here are some things I’d recommend:

• Backstreet Cultural Museum – you can see Mardi Gras Indian suits and learn about social aid and pleasure clubs while finding out where this week’s second line will be.
• Join a Second Line
• Volunteer – Repair the World just put out a new study showing that short-term service learning trips are beneficial to the host community. Rebuilding Together New Orleans is always looking for folks to spend a couple days volunteering.
• Eat and Drink – Po-boys, red beans and rice, gumbo and mint juleps.
• See Some Live, Local Music – Frenchmen street, Tipitina’s, The Maple Leaf or just check out WWOZ’s live wire to find out who’s playing at every venue.

New Orleans is one city, not a bunch of splintered neighborhoods and Katrina affected them all. Go visit the Garden District and the Quarter, but make sure you see the other half of the city too. And don’t let the lovely homes on St Charles fool you – until the damage done more than 5 years ago is addressed throughout the city, a Katrina Tour is a New Orleans Tour and vice versa.

Since getting back from the US school has been pretty busy, and there’s been a bit of stressful “life stuff” (which I have little desire to go into here) that’s also been adding to a general sense of angst. So … what better than a nice weekend away to chase away the blues? Vanessa had a conference to go to in Christchurch from Thursday 2nd to Sunday 5th of September, and I decided to fly down on the Friday night and spend the weekend there. I’d had a great time at the Media Studies conference a year ago, and was looking forward to going back to Penny Lane Records in Sydenham.

The conference was at the Christchurch Convention Centre, so we booked into the convenient and rather nice Crown Plaza hotel, a 13 story highrise Well, if you’re in New Zealand you might have some idea where this story is going … early Saturday morning the city got hit by a 7.1 magnitude (ie. really massive) earthquake.

You know how cats and dogs always sense earthquakes before they happen? Well, I guess I am also ‘attuned’ (or, possibly, I just sleep badly in unfamiliar beds) … I woke up at about 4:30pm, went to get a drink, and hopped back into bed. A few seconds later there was a massive cracking and roaring sound and the hotel room started to violently heave. The noise level is difficult to describe objectively, but it felt quite literally like the earth shattering. This cacophony was quickly joined by the sound of smashing glass and the drone of an alarm. The two of us jumped out of bed and attempted to brace ourselves in the doorway, both conscious of the glass we heard smashing. The room shook for, apparently, 45 seconds, but it felt far longer. As soon as it stopped we knew we needed to get out. Sensibly, we decided to dress properly and grab our iPhones in case, when exiting the hotel, we found it wasn’t an earthquake but, rather, the zombie apocalypse.

Downstairs (after a short diversion stuck in the fire escape system) we found the rest of the guests – many in a state of severe undress – waiting around, no one any the wiser, but all assuming that the city had been struck by a massive earthquake. We waited outside in the cold for an hour, and were finally allowed back inside – to a hotel lacking both power and electricity – just before 6am. By this time news reports were starting to trickle out (thank God for iPhones) and the extent of the damage became apparent. Figuring that, with little power, there’d be little to do, we went for a wander around the Christchurch CBD, hoping we’d be able to find something to eat. No such like. Police were already closing off the streets, and the entire central city was without power, apart from one convenience store that had a generator running. I think I bought the last two pies in Christchurch.

All through the day the city was hit by substantial aftershocks, and our room would shake and sway in a disarming fashion. The holiday was turning into a strange mix of excitement/terror and extreme boredom. With the airport closed until late afternoon, and all bumped passengers moved onto later flights, there was no hope of getting out of town, and we were resigned to staying another night. We did, at least, manage to find an open restaurant north of the CBD, and by the time we got back to the hotel (mindful of a 7pm curfew and not wanting to get shot/arrested) the power and water was back on.

I spent Sunday wandering around the fringes of the city, taking photos and talking to people. By this stage police had evacuated almost everyone from the CBD and blocked off most of the streets. Consequently the city felt eerie and deserted, although there was an odd sense of camaraderie amongst the general public who were still about. One American guy I talked to lived in the CBD and was told he couldn’t return to his apartment – not even to grab his phone/laptop/wallet etc. He had no relatives in New Zealand and, having just arrived, few friends, and had utterly no idea where to go or what to do. Me? I was just glad to get in a cab late Sunday afternoon and fly back to Auckland.

Since the fateful holiday, I’ve enjoyed minor celebrity at school, talking to a few junior social studies/geography classes about what it is like to be in an earthquake. Personally, I’d not recommend it, especially not if you’d had a weekend of dining out/record shopping planned.

A couple of months ago I got invited to take part in a project with a group of Oregonians all traveling down to the Gulf Coast to bear witness to the oil spill and work with groups on the ground to create a better understanding of what the true impacts of the environmental disaster really are. I said yes.

It’s officially day 2, and I’ve already had the chance to go to a community meeting in Ocean Springs to listen to community members voice their opinions on what a longterm restoration plan should look like. Walking in to a room packed with Gulf Coast residents I felt a little out of place. What would I bring to the table by being here? What does a Portlander have to give a community that’s been so severely affected?

But it’s all about listening and hearing the real stories that these people are telling. We’re all on media overload from images of oil slicked birds and messy waves. But we have to keep listening. We have to keep listening to the fishermen that are telling us that there waters were opened up too soon and that they’re afraid of the longterm harm that eating the seafood might cause. We have to listen to the mental health specialists that emphasize that this environmental catastrophe is having a serious psychological effect. We have to listen to the clean energy advocates that are pushing for renewables in this region and coming up against political obstacles.

We’ll be covering the next 10 days over on www.pdx2gulfcoast.com. Check it out and engage in the conversation, because it’s one we need to create and sustain.