ReKing

From pirate haven to ecological hotspot, Cuba's "Treasure Island" is a far-flung gem home to some of the Caribbean's rarest animals.

A pirate hideaway, a one time US colony and a biodiverse hotspot home to endangered crocs, parrots, sharks and turtles, Cuba's Isla de la Juventud is an enigma. The Caribbean nation's largest offshore island lies 60 miles south off the mainland and is a comma-shaped arc of palm and pine trees, citrus groves and marble hills that few visitors ever see. 

In centuries past, real pirates of the Caribbean slipped into the island's coves, with boats bearing illicit booty. Today, visitors come from the port of Batabanó, 56km south of Havana, on a three-hour ferry ride that costs $0.50 Cuban Pesos (£0.35) and requires reserving a month in advance, or securing a seat on irregular flights. 

Those who make the journey usually come to dive off the south-western tip, Punta Francés, staying at the island's one hotel. Or, they tour the island's panopticon prison, Presidio Modelo (now an eerie museum), where Cuba's late Communist leader Fidel Castro was incarcerated in 1953 for attacking army barracks – an event that triggered the 1959 Cuban Revolution. But beyond its few attractions, the island's sugar-soft beaches, unique culture and history, and protected wildlife havens offer a vastly different Cuban experience than the crumbling colonial facades and raucous rum bars of Havana.

When Christopher Columbus crossed the Atlantic for a second time in 1493, he dropped anchor close to the island that would later prove to be the perfect refuge for pirates. From the 1850s, Francis Drake, Henry Morgan and their ilk ransacked the Spanish Crown's treasure fleet as ships, bulging with gems, silver and spices, sailed past La Isla enroute from the tip of South America to Havana. Because of this, La Isla was dubbed both "Island of Pirates" and "Treasure Island". It was even thought to have inspired Robert Louis Stevenson's classic book, Treasure Island. 

In the late 1970s, Fidel Castro opened dozens of universities on the island for foreign students, and in 1978, the island was renamed Isla de la Juventud (Isle of Youth) from Isla de Pinos (Isle of Pines). The schools closed in the late 1990s, but their legacy remains in the island's name.

Back when Columbus' caravel sought wood and water on the island, his men glimpsed no other human soul. Ship logs reveal the sea was "covered" with so many turtles of "vast bigness", the air thick with an "abundance" of birds and "immense swarms of butterflies… darkened the air". 

Columbus would still recognise much of the remote southern third of the island today: a landscape patchworked with swamps, mangroves, beaches, coral seas, limestone forests and caves painted with prehistoric drawings, all safeguarded in the 1,455sq km region called South of the Isle of Youth Protected Area of Managed Resources (APRM). Within the APRM's marine protected area, other vulnerable creatures such as Antillean manatee, hammerheads, elkhorn coral and marine turtles seek sanctuary in the sea.

To enter the protected area, travellers must first obtain permission from the agency Ecotur or a local B&B and pass a checkpoint at the northern limit so officials can monitor the trafficking of wildlife, people and drugs. Three times a week, a bare bones bus jangles three hours south from the island's capital, Nueva Gerona, through forest rooted in limestone karst. Within its tangled embrace is Ciénaga de Lanier (Lanier swamp), refuge of the critically endangered Cuban crocodile. The elusive crocs were almost wiped out in the 20th Century by fire, drought and hunting. A few specimens were discovered in 1977 and a reintroduction programme launched in 1987. 

"We know American crocodiles and the introduced spectacled caiman are there, but in the last two expeditions, our experts haven't seen Cuban crocodiles in the wild," said Yanet Forneiro Martín Viaña,senior conservation specialist for Flora y Fauna, which manages the island's southern APRM zone. 

Forneiro Martín-Viaña is confident though. "We continue to search for [Cuban crocodiles] and reintroduce more individuals into the swamp," she said. "We know this area has great potential for the habitat of this species." 

The coarse sand of Guanal Beach, on the south coast, is veined with beach morning glory vine. Trails of the stabilising plant erupted to replace 10km of casuarina, an invasive feathery-leaved Southeast Asian tree that Flora y Fauna cut down over a 10 year period and recycled, converting the slain trunks into charcoal for export.

Across more than 1km of beach, long, lean sticks poked out of the burning-hot sand, marking a veritable "X" for treasure   yet, not the glittery kind, but a natural bounty. Empty water bottles, placed upside down on the sticks, were stuffed with paper notes indicating turtle nest sites, the dates eggs were laid and the expected hatching dates. Some 250 nests of endangered green turtles at Guanal are under guard this year. 

According to Dr Julia Azanza Ricardo, a turtle expert and professor at the Higher Institute of Technologies and Applied Sciences of the University of Havana, Guanal is one of the most important nesting areas in Cuba. However, climate change is threatening their future. Turtle gender is linked to the temperature of the nest during incubation, and the rising temperatures are resulting in fewer males being born. 

"More than 90% of turtles born in Cuba are female, Azanza said. "In a short time, we expect to reach 100%. When we started monitoring nest temperature 15 years ago, they were 28, 29, 30 degrees. Now it's 32, 33, 34. It will only take a rise of two degrees to reach 100%. If all males are wiped out, then it's the end of local populations and then the end of the species."

Solutions, Azanza explained, include vegetation shading by planting certain species of bushes, moving nests to cooler spots or watering the sand.

West of turtle country and 86km south-west of Nueva Gerona is the village of Cocodrilo, the most remote inhabited spot in Cuba. Founded as Jacksonville after English-speaking Cayman Islanders settled it in the early 20th Century, 122 families now live in single storey concrete and wooden homes facing the sea. Twenty-four-hour electricity only arrived in 2001. 

Here, conservationist Reinaldo Borrego Hernández, known as "Nene", runs a tourism and conservation project, Consytur, with his wife, Yemmy. Nene's mission is to preserve and protect the coral reef, wildlife and nature of his home village. 

"I've lived in this natural environment all my life, and my wish to protect it is in my blood," said Nene. 

By staying in Nene's B&B, Villa Arrecife (one of only three B&Bs in Cocodrilo), visitors help fund conservation work focused on collecting rubbish from beaches and the seabed, capturing lionfish – an invasive species – and serving it to guests, and growing and planting new branches of critically endangered staghorn coral.

"Lionfish get into the mangroves, seagrass and the reef, and have very few predators," said Nene, who has a Masters degree in coastal management. "They compete with local species to eat small fish and crustaceans, so capturing them limits their numbers." 

One morning at Americana Beach, a few kilometres west from Cocodrilo, we filled a net bag with 8 10kg of plastic bottles, flip flops and take-away containers from the beach. Later, we dived 15m down through crystal-clear water. We swam over coloured fans, moray eel, monochrome spotted drum, yellow French grunt and iridescent princess parrotfish before touching down on the seabed amid a large rocky field of multi-branched staghorn coral, grown by Nene these last few years. 

We picked fragments of pale orange coral, the width of a fat ballpoint pen, from the seabed. Nene hacked off blackened ends, dead from disease or microalgae. We wrapped thread around them before diving up to a special "tree" structure to tie the fragments to its long-limbed branches. 

Nene explained that each fragment is asexual and produces a polyp that forms another polyp, and so on. At one year old, the coral reproduces sexually and their planula float to the seabed and the cycle of producing polyps begins again. After a year, Nene will search for a rocky spot with no macroalgae and few predators and plant the new-growth coral. Overfishing has left the reef bereft of much of its previous fish life, Nene said, allowing algae to flourish and suffocate the corals.

"We want to increase the number of juvenile fish on the reef, and staghorn coral offers refuge to young fish," Nene said. "By restoring and protecting the reef, we increase the diversity and number of fish." 

Staghorn coral grows about 1cm a year. It's a slow process, but Nene hopes the work he started will outlast him. "My dream is that more people come to stay so that we can include and pay the young people around here. That will incentivise them to care for the sea and the coast," he said. "And they'll be able to continue my work when I'm gone." 

Unlike other islands scattered around the Cuban mainland, the no frills Isle of Youth is relatively undeveloped. Some locals claim the island is abandoned. But within this castaway island, endangered creatures have sought refuge since long before anyone was looking. Natural disasters, invasive species, over-fishing and climate change threaten its delicate ecological footprint. But with help from eco-minded visitors, Cuban scientists and conservationists are setting a benchmark to ensure nature reclaims and thrives in this remote, secluded landscape.

It was Independence Day in the Republic of North Macedonia, a landlocked Balkan country sharing borders with Greece, Albania, Bulgaria, Serbia and Kosovo. Along the northern shores of Lake Ohrid, bright yellow sunbeams of North Macedonian flags fluttered in the breeze that swept down from the Jablanica Mountains as bands played, rakia flowed, and beers were cracked open in celebration of independence from the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia in 1991.

However, it was coincidence, rather than by design, that my trip coincided with these annual festivities. Instead, I was heading to Vevčani, a fascinating village with its own little-known history of independence.

My bus left the lakeside revelry behind, and we turned into the foothills of the nation's mountainous western border with Albania. As we entered the village, there were few signs of a party atmosphere. The North Macedonian flag was flying outside the local government building, but it wasn't alone. Next to it, flew a flag I'd never seen before.

"That's the flag of the Republic of Vevčani," said Aleksandra Velkoska, a former tour guide who now works for the Vevčani municipality. "We don't celebrate independence today. Vevčani has its own independence to celebrate."

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Despite having a population of just 2,400, Vevčani has attempted to declare independence three times from two different countries over the last five decades. In 1987, it first threatened to secede from Yugoslavia. Then, in 1991, the village proclaimed itself to be an independent republic just 11 days after the former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia (as North Macedonia was previously named) had itself declared independence during the breakup of Yugoslavia. And in 2002, the libertarian spirit of the Republic of Vevčani was revived by locals as a tongue-in-cheek micronation in an unusual effort to draw tourists and poke fun at politics by flying a "national" flag, issuing passports and printing currency.

Vevčani's independent streak goes back centuries. Although it's located just a 20-minute drive from Struga, the largest town on Lake Ohrid's northern shore, the isolated and impenetrable terrain of the Jablanica Mountains ensures that the people of Vevčani have long been able to assert their autonomy.

Vevčani was nominally part of the Macedonian, Roman, Byzantine and Ottoman empires before falling under the jurisdiction of the Kingdom of Serbia, communist Yugoslavia and now North Macedonia. But after meeting me at the bus stop, Velkoska explained that Vevčani was never truly conquered.

"We are very traditional in Vevčani," Velkoska said, as she guided me up a hill to the Church of St Nicholas. From here, we looked out across the neighbouring villages, where minarets on the surrounding mountain slopes reflected the sunshine. "During the Ottoman era, for example, we kept our culture and our Orthodox religion, even though all of the surrounding villages are Muslim."

From the late 14th Century until 1912, the region came under the rule of the Ottoman Empire, which had its capital in what's now Istanbul. Around 33% of North Macedonia's population now identifies as Muslim, with the Ottoman legacy being particularly strong in the north-western region that borders Albania and Kosovo (both Muslim-majority countries). Vevčani is effectively an Orthodox Christian enclave in a Muslim-majority area.

The Church of St Nicholas dates to 1824, and beneath the hand-painted murals and frescoes inside, Velkoska introduced me to church caretaker Lambe Shurbanoski, who explained how Vevčani had considerable religious freedoms under the Ottoman Empire.

In the Ottoman era, you would normally enter a church by going down steps to symbolise that Christianity was below Islam

As Velkoska guided me further into the village, she explained how Vevčani's history of non-conformity under Ottoman rule inspired resistance during the communist era that followed World War Two, when the region became part of the Socialist Republic of Macedonia, one of the six republics within Yugoslavia.

"During the communist times, the government tried to stop our traditions," she said. "They didn't allow traditional weddings or baptisms, but our mothers and grandmothers still did these things in secret."

Locals also held onto a unique Slavic dialect found nowhere elsewhere in the country, and each January, the village hosts a 1,400-year-old carnival that draws thousands of visitors from across the Balkans to see revellers dressed up in elaborate costumes and masks.

At the centre of all the village's unique local customs is the Vevčani springs, which Velkoska took me to see next.

The Vevčani springs lie at the heart of the village's unique customs and celebrations (Credit: Richard Collett)
The Vevčani springs lie at the heart of the village's unique customs and celebrations (Credit: Richard Collett)

"The springs are the most important part of our culture and history," she said, as we crossed over a small bridge and followed the riverbank towards the source of Vevčani's natural spring water. The source was hidden inside a darkened cave, but the entranceway was verdant and green where the spring water flowed into the riverbed. "Almost all celebrations and rites of passage are held here. It's why people were so annoyed when the Yugoslavian government tried to take our water away."

In May 1987, the people of Vevčani rose up in protest against the Yugoslavian government's plans to divert spring water to new villas being built by Lake Ohrid for the communist elite. In response, the village spent that summer building barricades, protesting and threatening to secede as the independent Republic of Vevčani.

The Vevčani Emergency, as it became known, lasted for three months. The government response was heavy handed, and special police armed with batons were sent in to end the uprising. Even so, the government backed down first, and the Vevčani Emergency became one of the first successful instances of mass resistance against the Yugoslavian government. Many of Vevčani's citizens continued protesting on and off for the next four years in Skopje and Belgrade in an ongoing attempt to hold the authorities accountable for arrests and injuries.

I learned more about the community's independent streak when we stopped for lunch at Restaurant Kutmicevica. "Do you have a passport?" asked restaurant owner Nasto Bogoeski as we sat down to eat. He wasn't talking about my British passport and was happy to see that I'd already purchased the red Republic of Vevčani version, complete with a dated entry stamp, from a souvenir stand near the springs.

Bogoeski told me that he was training to be a police officer in Skopje during the Vevčani Emergency. Despite this, he says he was there in spirit, and he's been involved in supporting the Republic of Vevčani ever since. When he retired from policing in the 2000s, he opened this restaurant, which serves local specialties like gjomleze (a type of slow-cooked pie), sheep's cheese and grilled vegetables served with a garlic sauce. All are cooked by Vevčani chefs, while Bogoeski regales tourists and travellers with stories of his beloved Republic.

Restaurant Kutmicevica serves up local specialties cooked by Vevčani chefs (Credit: Richard Collett)
Restaurant Kutmicevica serves up local specialties cooked by Vevčani chefs (Credit: Richard Collett)

As he poured me a glass of rakia, Bogoeski explained what happened in Vevčani when Yugoslavia began to unravel in the 1990s.

"In 1991, there were referendums for independence all over Yugoslavia," he said. "In the same moment, the people from Vevčani decided they wanted a referendum for independence. We were politically motivated by everything that had happened during the Vevčani Emergency, and so we also wanted to be separate from Yugoslavia and from [North] Macedonia."

On 8 September 1991, the Socialist Republic of Macedonia declared independence from Yugoslavia and became the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia. Not content with their new government, on 19 September 1991, the town almost unanimously declared itself an independent republic, with just 36 out of 2,000 locals voting against the motion.

The former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia never recognised Vevčani's peaceful bid for independence, but given their government were also dealing with armed separatists in ethnically Albanian regions of the new country, they did eventually concede to demands for autonomy. In 1994, they allowed Vevčani to separate from the larger Struga Municipality and form their own autonomous municipality, which still exists today.

Bogoeski's daughter, Nikolina, added that in the early 2000s, the rebellious spirit of the village was revived and used to encourage tourism by marketing the Republic of Vevčani as a micronation.

People across the Balkans wanted to know more about the story behind our flag, passports and money
"We made local passports and printed currency to advertise Vevčani," she said. "It worked, and people across the Balkans wanted to know more about the story behind our flag, passports and money. We have more plans to make a 'customs post' at the border to the village, where we can stamp the passports."

The village has a long history of rebellion and non-conformity (Credit: Richard Collett)
The village has a long history of rebellion and non-conformity (Credit: Richard Collett)

Nikolina also said that, if necessary, the Republic of Vevčani could again become a serious entity in the future. "This is a very political village," she said. "Our village always comes first. If we held another referendum in the future, I think it would be possible for the village to be independent and stay successful."

After lunch, Velkoska took me for a sneak peek inside Vevčani's new museum, which is set to open later this year. Inside, political artworks depicted the Vevčani Emergency and the Republic of Vevčani, alongside a photographic exhibition devoted to Vevčani's centuries-old carnival. Interestingly, she said, the carnival is effectively a centuries-old satire, because satire is what Vevčani does best. Like its self-appointed micronation status, it's a way for Vevčani to mock the authorities, and many of the costumes and masks are politically charged, parodying the government or ridiculing recent political events.

Before I caught the bus back to Lake Ohrid, I asked Velkoska whether she thought the Republic of Vevčani was serious or satirical. "Vevčani still has its disagreements with the government," she said. "But we are too small to be independent. We would have a weak economy. It's a nice idea, but right now it's only for fun".

Inspired by Covid-19's long lockdowns and safety concerns, cities are implementing pedestrian friendly initiatives and pushing for more car-free spaces.

When the initial wave of Covid prevented indoor gatherings in most countries around the world, many cities responded by quickly reimagining what life could look like outside. Some introduced pedestrian only streets, turned parking spots into pop-up restaurants and added more bike lanes  transforming once car-filled areas into walking- and cycling-friendly spots.

The changes paid dividends, not just in increased economic activity, but studies also showed the virus may spread less quickly in highly walkable neighbourhoods. And while many places have now rolled back these initiatives as life returns to the new normal, some cities have held fast to their pedestrian improvements and have been pushing for even more car free spaces.

We're profiling four cities around the world that made some of the boldest and fastest pedestrian-friendly changes during the pandemic  and are keeping many of those initiatives to encourage residents and visitors to get around on foot.

Paris, France

Even before the pandemic, Paris had a head start in becoming more pedestrian-friendly. As part of a city wide effort to reduce the number of cars, the lower quays that run along the Seine river were fully pedestrianised in late 2016, a move that was made permanent in 2018. In 2020, Mayor Anne Hidalgo was re-elected in part due to her support of the "15 minute city": a new urban planning concept that allows residents to complete all their daily tasks from shopping to schooling to work within the distance of a 15-minute walk or bike ride.

I've lived in Paris for 14 years, and I can confidently say that I've never seen a greater, city wide transformation than the one that's happened most recently to encourage cyclists The pandemic, paired with numerous public transportation strikes prior to lockdown, only strengthened the popularity of these human-centric and environmentally sustainable initiatives. "The beauty of getting around by foot in Paris is highlighted more since Covid," said Kathleen Peddicord, founder of Live and Invest Overseas. "Public transportation was a no-go for a long time and was also more uncomfortable having to wear masks. So, more people started using their feet."

Additional bike lanes have also been introduced to alleviate car traffic. In fact, the city plans to add an additional 180km of bike lanes and 180,000 bike parking spots by 2026.

"I've lived in Paris for 14 years, and I can confidently say that I've never seen a greater, city wide transformation than the one that's happened most recently to encourage cyclists," said Sadie Sumner, who runs the Paris branch of bike touring company Fat Tire Tours.

Major throughways like the Rue de Rivoli in central Paris have been reduced to one lane, while cyclist paths have been 

expanded to the width of three car lanes.

The city also plans to plant 170,000 trees by 2026, with the intention of cooling Paris to make it more comfortable and 
enjoyable for pedestrians. In anticipation of the city's hosting of the 2024 Olympics, the bridge between the Eiffel Tower and Trocadero will be fully pedestrianised, too.

Overall, residents have appreciated the widespread changes, and look forward to even more. "The locals really like it, there are less cars and people seem to be a bit more relaxed," said Paris native Roobens Fils, who blogs at Been Around 
the Globe. He had suggestions for walking-minded travellers: the Parc Rives de Seine, a 7km long stretch by the river; rue Montorgueuil in the heart of Paris for its cheese, wine and flower shops; rue Saint Rustique in Montmartre for its ancient cobblestones (this is the oldest street in Paris); and Cour Saint Emilion for its boutiques, cafes and restaurants.

Bogotá, Colombia

While Bogotá (and Colombia in general) has always had a strong bicycling culture, with cycling as the country's national sport, the pandemic accelerated many car free changes. In 2020, Mayor Claudia Lopez designated an additional 84km of temporary bike lanes to the city's existing 550km Ciclorruta bike path network – already one of the largest in the world  and they have since become permanent.

Bogotá was among the first cities globally to add "pop up" cycle lanes during the pandemic, and residents have noticed the permanent changes have been for the better. "The city has really started to develop a noticeable Amsterdam and Copenhagen vibe over the last few years," said Alex Gillard, founder of Nomad Nature Travel blog and who lived in Bogotá on and off during the pandemic. "There are so many bikes on the streets at all hours of the day, it is quite inspiring."

On Sundays and public holidays, cars are completely banned from certain routes in a programme known as the Ciclovia, attracting more than 1.5 million cyclists, pedestrians and joggers each week.

The city's new SITP buses, which run on electricity and gas, have also improved the public transportation system significantly, according to locals. "The vibe of Bogotá has changed. It's much easier, calmer and safer to move around in the city now," said resident Josephine Remo, who writes an eponymous travel blog.

She recommends travellers check out the historical neighbourhood of La Candelaria where the city was born more than 

400 years ago; they'll find plenty of museums about the city's rich history, as well as restaurants housed in centuries old buildings. She also suggests Usaquén Park for its weekend open-air market, where visitors can check out local Colombian food, crafts and music events.

Milan, Italy

Italy was one of the countries hit hardest initially in the pandemic, and its cities had to adapt quickly to provide alternatives to densely populated public transportation. In summer 2020, Milan embarked on an ambitious plan to widen pavements and expand cycling lanes along 35km of roads previously centred on car traffic. The changes have transformed the city, bringing with it more outdoor dining, open-air markets and urban gardens.

"It's not the Milan I remember from 10 years ago during my college days," said resident Luisa Favaretto, founder of living abroad site Strategistico. "I love the concept of the 15 minute city [a plan Milan has also explored] and was drawn by the city's evolving infrastructure that prioritises people over cars." She's seen a growth in what she calls an "old world" sense of community, as there are more reasons to be outdoors and to meet in communal spaces.

The new CityLife district is not only Milan's largest car-free area but one of the largest car free zones in Europe. "It is filled with public green spaces along with tons of bike lanes, and offers a glimpse into the future of a sustainable Milan," said Favaretto. She also recommends strolling the canals of Navigli and enjoying the neighbourhood's outdoor dining options and nightlife. The north neighbourhood of Isola has been transformed from an industrial district to a walkable and bikeable area full of hip cafes, galleries and boutiques.

Travellers also don't have to worry about finding a bike to enjoy the cycling lanes. The city's bike sharing service, BikeMI, has 300 stations across the city and offers both regular and e-bikes.

San Francisco, US

This northern California city moved quickly during the early pandemic to launch Slow Streets a programme that used signage and barriers to limit car traffic and speeds on 30 corridors in an effort to make them more pedestrian- and cyclist-friendly. According to data collected by the city, the programme saw a 50% reduction in vehicle traffic, a 17% increase in weekday pedestrian traffic and a 65% jump in weekday cyclist traffic.

It is lovely for pedestrians and bikers to be able to share the streets

Though many of the streets have since been returned to pre pandemic status, residents pushed to make four sections permanent, including those on Golden Gate Avenue, Lake Street, Sanchez Street and Shotwell Street. In September, a vote will be held on the future of the other corridors.

"It is lovely for pedestrians and bikers to be able to share the streets," said resident Leith Steel on the roads that are still 

closed. "You see families out walking, kids playing – it is a much different experience."

She also notes that the city has put money and effort into building better bike routes throughout the city, and they are 

more clearly marked than previously. She recommends really exploring each neighbourhood in San Francisco, since they each have their own feel and character. She likes the tree lined Hayes Valley for its upscale and modern vibes; Outer Sunset for its laid-back surfer vibe and 3.5-mile stretch of white sand beach; and North Beach for its lively street cafes (and the 4th most walkable neighbourhood in the city).

Though there's still much to be done to change San Francisco into a truly pedestrian friendly city, history shows it can be done. One of the city's most walkable areas the Embarcadero along the waterfront was once a freeway until a 1989 earthquake rendered it unusable for vehicles.