Smuggling
26 creative works found
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Smuggling hapiness
by Laura McCarthyEscaping from the horrors of the copious amounts chocolate of the Australian Easter, my family and I flew off to a strange, new experienc…
Escaping from the horrors of the copious amounts chocolate of the Australian Easter, my family and I flew off to a strange, new experience in Thailand. Depressingly, but inevitably, my first impression of the dazzling country was the airport. In stark contrast to the fuzzy striped carpet and rows of bright shops in the Melbourne and Sydney airports, Bangkok International Airport was just plastic. Plastic covered the walls, plastic floors, plastic chairs, and the super air-conditioned air even smelled of plastic. I am almost glad to walk into the wall of garbage tinged humidity that greets us as the automatic doors open. Lunch the next day creates a craving in me that has not left. Sitting in cracked, ageing plastic chairs beside a four-lane, roaring Bangkok highway, we are served a delicious meal. I don’t know what I am eating but the smells of the chilli and meaty flavours of the broth make my mouth water as they overwhelm the diesel fumes of the highway. It is impossible to ask for the recipe, as none of the Thais who made my delicious meal speak English and my appalling Thai extends to “hello,” “please” and “thankyou”. Yet even the language barrier couldn’t hide the beauty of the Thais, their friendliness and their wicked sense of humour. They would say things in the best ways possible, with no unkindness, just jokes. Our guide Chayan, who was nicknamed Nick (get it?) for the American tourists, picks us up from our hotel at nine the next morning. As he shows us his vibrant, buzzing city, he plays games with us. His favourite is ‘spot the lady-boys’ as he had proclaimed it. He teases us yelling ‘Oh look lady-boy, lady-boy!’ as we travel through gaudy nightclubs. The following day we climb into the artic conditions common to all Thai buses and public buildings. As we rumble past in our heavily air-conditioned bus, the balloons and water fights of Song Kran, the Thai New Year celebration, billow around us. As I smile and wave to the crowds on the sidewalk, I notice people parting as a mass of saffron approaches through the sea of other colours. Chayan sways up the bus isle and tells me in his smiling voice that the monks are not allowed to be splashed by the citywide water fights, as they serenely amble down the grimy streets. Standing on one corner is an ancient, wizened and slightly grumpy looking monk with grey tufts of hair on his mostly shaved head. I stare at him with fascination, and grinning he blows a huge pink bubble with the gum he had been slowly chomping on. I am slowly discovering much of Thailand is like this, it is beautiful and wise, but above all has great sense of humour. Patpong Road is Bangkok’s equivalent of King’s Cross – shocking and otherworldly to unsuspecting visitors. Pushing through the chaotic crowd, I giggle at the twisted references to Western culture that were the strip show names (“Pussy Galore”). Through the crowds I see a grinning man approach and put his arm around me like I was an old friend. / “Do you want to be in my show?” he asks me in broken English and waves his hand in the general direction of a neon gilded building showing glimpses of something to do with ping-pong balls. I gape at him and he renews his cheery smile, so I laugh, shake my head and carefully shrug his arm off to hurry away. Escaping the bustle of Bangkok we have our first encounter with real Thai elephants. I discover even the elephants share the wisdom and humour of Thailand. We creep through the jungle up in the rainforest, away from the city bustle, riding huge Asian elephants. Riding an elephant is rather like riding a gigantic horse; you sway from side to side as the coarse hair covering the rough hide brushes your skin. The elephants are extremely intelligent and pick their way noiselessly through the jungle, which they possessively caress with their trunks. One elephant decides to display the only flaw in the use of elephants for smuggling jade and opium across borders – he farts. The sudden loud noise, seemingly from nowhere, startles the people on the embankment below us and they look up and laugh along with us. Dragging ourselves away from the elephants we continue our journey through Thailand. My favourite places on the road to Chang Mai are the temples, both modern and ancient. The flowering frangipani trees waft sweet aromas throughout the ruins of crumbling temples. There is strong spirituality surrounding the tumbling towers and the statues of Buddha. The statues, even though thieves have taken their heads, appear noble and strong. It is difficult to leave the calm of the temples. Reaching northern Thailand, we wind further up the mountains in an open backed van, and brown-skinned, fast, slender children chase us. One small sweet-looking boy actually jumps onto the van, so I take his photo. With an expressionless face he holds out his hand and demands 10 baht (about 50 cents). We laugh, but the demand is tinged with sadness – the incursion on the mountain people’s lifestyle by money, television and artificial foods troubles and confuses me, I do not want them to lose the beauty of their home. The city too has it’s share of inequality and exploitation. Guilt trails through my mind as I realise I take part in this exploitation. I gaze out across Bangkok’s lights glittering across the river, and notice a grand ship coming to dock on the far side. It is lit up by thousands of fairy lights and the luxury of the upper decks is reflected across the dirty water. As my gaze wanders down, closer to the water line, I notice those who are working in the kitchens of the ship – the fairy lights illuminating their dirty, cramped conditions. Yet the lights also clearly shows the women in that kitchen are laughing and smiling. So that was what I took home from the Thai’s – their unrestricted smiles in some of the most restricted places.
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[please note: the grey sections of the graphics do not actually print grey, more as a darker tint of whatever background colour you choose]
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Smuggler’s Rest This is St Andrew’s Church, Kinson, Bournemouth, Dorset. One of the oldest churches in the Bournemouth area, the tower is believed to date from Norman times, around 1100 A.D. and there may even have been a Saxon church on this site 150 years before that. Although about 4 miles from the coast, the village of Kinson was once a haven for smugglers. This would have been in the early 1800s, long before nearby Bournemouth became a fashionable seaside resort or the large conurbation that it is today. St Andrew’s Parish Church is said to have been the centre of a network of underground tunnels, with the church tower used as a look-out post. Contraband may have been stored in the church tower, in the tunnels, or inside one or more ‘false tombs’ in the church yard. Several of the graves in the church yard can be linked to smugglers. Date: 15th April 2008. Click here to see Holdenhust church This shot was featured in the Historic Churches group.
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Anyway, to start off, here is a photograph taken in Lerwick, the capital of Shetland and Britain’s most northerly town. It’s origins as a port date back to the early 17th century (at least) when Shetland folk set up a shanty town here to do business with the large numbers of Dutch fishing boats that came to this area each year. The records show that the drunken revelry was such that attempts were made to put an end to the town but, eventually, Lerwick came into being and succeeded Scalloway as the capital. / Lodberry comes from the Old Norse ‘hladberg’ (thank you Nat!) and means a place where a boat could be brought right up to the warehouse for loading or unloading. It could be anything from a rock to this much grander affair with a jetty, store and house. / Lerwick did have a reputation as a place for smugglers and, even today, contraband comes to light when cellars are cleared out or renovated. One point of note here is the colour of the water. This is down to the major dredging operations going on on the entrance to the harbour and this has brought up huge amounts of silt (and marine life?) Thanks for looking / Richard Tech Detls: / Nikon D300 / Nikon 16-85 VR @26mm / f10 1/400s / ISO200
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This just went live on www.commonties.com today. It looks a lot better on their page, thanks to the addition of some text on the hood of the car. The sparse, cartoonish quality owes alot to the fact that the previous 2 or 3 pieces I’d attempted to do for them ended up being complete wastes of time, as I’d put a good deal of effort into something only to have someone else beat me to the punch. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, in my opinion. Watercolor paint on 6.25” x 8.5” white Strathmore paper.
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The Black House The Black House has stood for around 200 years on the sand spit close to the entrance of Christchurch harbour, Dorset, England, opposite Mudeford Quay. Originally a boat-builder’s house, its smuggling past is undisputed. The story goes that a band of “free traders” took refuge inside the house to escape the attentions of Customs Officers, who built fires around the walls to smoke them out. Eventually the smoke and heat became too much and the free traders gave themselves up. However, the walls were blackened through and have stayed that way ever since! Date: 19th March 2008 Click here to see more of Mudeford Sands
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A young boy helps keep a weapons caravan moving into Northern Afghanistan. Fall 1991. For more photographs of Afghanistan or for never-before published photographs of Ahmad Shah Massoud, please go to RedBubble’s “asmassoudphotos” site or to http://asmassoudphotos.redbubble.com.
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Port Isaac, Cornwall The centuries old village and harbour of Port Isaac is situated on the Atlantic coast, mid-way between Newquay and Bude, Cornwall, UK. From the Middle Ages until the 1850s, Port Isaac was a busy port, handling stone, coal, timber and pottery. With the advent of the railways, it became principally a fishing port. UK TV viewers will know it as the location for the classic period drama ‘Poldark’ and more recently for the drama/comedy series ‘Doc Martin’, starring Martin Clunes. Long before the pier was built in the 16th century, the village had a smuggling past and was associated with a gentleman(!) by the name of Cruel Copinger! This shot was taken 22 years ago on Fujichrome slide film, and recently scanned using a Plustek OpticFilm 7200. Since being chosen as the Devon and Cornwall group avatar, this has become my most viewed shot on this site with over 740 views to date and it looks great as a laminated print … or even framed … Date: 13th July 1987
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A thought that came to me whilst watching an Aussie santa parade around in budgie smugglers on TV… ;)
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Monsar. A series of Aussie slang inspired T-Shirts. I know half the world thinks we have weird sayings, I don’t deny it, I embrace it :-)
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Forget thoses dumb “I’m with stupid” t-shirts; heres one that will really get a reaction! / I would Highly recommend you do not wear this to an airport!
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Canon 350D 18 -55 IS Tried a bit of different processing here to accentuate the texture of the rocks and slate and ruggedness of the coastline. The light was very flat on the day and I think the image reflects this, so I’m not sure if I like it or not. You can decide :-) Polperro is a picturesque fishing harbour lined with tightly packed houses which make Polperro a popular tourist location in the summer months. Polperro has been a fishing and smuggling centre dating back at least to the 13th century. Polperro notoriety was such that the Revenue men had a permanent base here. During the 18th century the British government had to fund their many wars, and this was done in part by increasing taxes on “luxury goods” like tea, tobacco, brandy and Polperro was well places to get involved in smuggling – a sheltered harbour, and fairly remote. Ships loaded with contraband were brought in to land a cargo in Talland Bay often at night and perhaps with a gale running. The “Mr Big” of the smuggling trade was one Zephaniah Job, who came to Polperro in the early 1770s and lived here till he died in 1822. Zephaniah Job issued his own Polperro banknotes, and had his own London agent to handle the transfer of money to the Guernsey merchants for contraband goods the smugglers were bringing in. And he briefed his own lawyers when the local smugglers were brought before the court. John Wesley, the Methodist preacher, is said to have visited the village in 1762, and rued the smuggling: “An accursed thing among them: wellnigh one and all bought or sold unaccustomed goods.” At this time the Admiralty licensed privateers to attack and capture enemy ships, and many Polperro ships benefited from the wealth that this brought to them, often adding to their privateer income by smuggling on the side. After 1800, the government took tough action against smuggling and one of the first Preventive Water Guard boats was stationed at Polperro. As a result, the smuggling trade in Polperro began to diminish.
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Looking south towards the summit of High & Over which offers / Spectacular views of the coast at Cuckmere Haven , This photo was taken on a spring like day in early February River Cuckmere (near Alfriston) / Southdowns / Sussex / England Smuggling In Alfriston / The Smugglers Inn originally went by the name of Market Cross House, as it is indeed very near the market cross. The house itself has 21 rooms, 47 doors and 6 staircases, as well as an assortment of hiding places such as the cellars and a hiding place in the roof, all intended to confuse the enemy and allow easy escape from excise men. There were even said to be tunnels leading to other houses in Alfriston, The smuggler and owner of this house was one Stanton Collins who led the local smuggling gang in Alfriston. His father was the butcher at Chiddingly before he bought the house, leaving it to his son who became the local butcher in 1822, at a time when the troops stationed at Alfriston during the Napoleonic Wars left, leaving Alfriston a less prosperous place to live. Not much is known about Collins smuggling exploits, . He and his gang were fairly ruthless and their influence within Alfriston was great. . Collins was eventually arrested in 1831, but not for smuggling. Reports say it was either sheep stealing or theft of barley from Litlington Farm. The last member of Collins gang died in the workhouse at Eastbourne in 1890, aged 94. Smuggling was not the only illegal pastime in the Alfriston area. The looting of cargo from a wrecked ship could bring in much money to the area and any inteference could provoke violence. Such was the case in 1635 when the son of Thomas Chowne, the JP living in Frog-Firle, tried to stop looters on Seaford beach.
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Smuggle...
by buyart -
The Stocks Inn The Stocks Inn, Furzehill, near Wimborne, Dorset, England is a genuine Old English Pub. It takes its name from the village stocks which can still be found just outside the pub. The stocks were a mediaeval form of punishment and public humilation, in which offender’s feet and hands were locked in place between solid wooden boards. Prisoners were often pelted with refuse such as rotten eggs or fruit. Despite being 8 miles inland, The Stocks also played a part in Dorset’s smuggling past. It is said the cellar was used by notorious local smuggler Isaac Gulliver to store contraband. Date: 8th February 2009 Click here to read the Smuggler’s Lair poem.
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Smuggler’s Lair There was a Dorset smuggling man, Gulliver was his name, / The Excise men were after him for many a twilight game. / He loaded up his cart one night and headed for his lair, / The old Stocks Inn at Furzehill, at the end of Smuggler’s Lane. The loot was stashed down in the cellar, / By this cunning, smuggling ‘feller. / But some weeks later he was caught, / And handed over to the jailer. So what became of the contraband, / Brandy kegs, beer and whiskey jars? / The crafty locals drank the lot, / While Gulliver grew old behind bars. An original poem, © RedHillDigital, 8th February 2009 This shot was featured by the Image Writing group. Click here to see another shot of the Stocks Inn.
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Arch Angel
by Steve Strodder a.k.a Saul and Cal.S.Heartcow prods, planks of wood and fists beat down on the Angel. The angels draws his knees into himself tighter and lets the oblivion take him.
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Safe Haven The inner harbour at West Bay, near Bridport, West Dorset, England. Vessels heading east along the English Channel from here must negotiate the sometimes perilous seas around Portland Bill before they reach the calmer waters of Portland and Weymouth harbours. TV viewers may recognise West Bay as the location used for the BBC drama series ‘Harbour Lights’, starring Nick Berry as the Harbour Master of ‘Bridehaven’. St Johns Church (upper left) was consecrated in 1939 but looks much older. High cliffs to the east and west provide the village with some shelter. There has been a harbour here since the 14th century. Date: 22nd February 2009 Click here to read about West Bay’s smuggling past.
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Port Bredy Another shot of West Bay harbour in West Dorset, England, also known as Bridport harbour, Port Bredy in several Thomas Hardy novels and Bridehaven in the BBC’s Harbour Lights drama series. The pink-painted house (right of shot) sits right by Chesil Beach. Date: 22nd February 2009 Click here to read about West Bay’s smuggling past.
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SPAM AND THE US MILITARY AND SMUGGLING OIL MONEY... WOW!
by kathleenTHIS WAS IN MY EMAIL JUST NOW… SPAM IS GETTING SOOOOO INTERESTING… IT’S LIKE CREATIVE ACTIVISM THIS ONE… LOL! NOT ONLY DOES THIS…
THIS WAS IN MY EMAIL JUST NOW… SPAM IS GETTING SOOOOO INTERESTING… IT’S LIKE CREATIVE ACTIVISM THIS ONE… LOL! NOT ONLY DOES THIS SPAMMER CLAIM TO BE AN AMERICAN COL. FOLLOWING ORDERS OR SOME CRAP… THE EMAIL ADDY LISTED THE SENDER AS A US ARMY EMAIL ADDRESS… I MEAN REALLY… WHO FALLS FOR THIS STUFF??? Hello Friend, I hope my e-mail meets you well. I am in need of your assistance. My / names are Col. Harrison Caleb of the Engineering Unit of US Military here in Ba’qubah in Iraq; we have about $10 Million US dollars that we want to move out of the country. My partners and I need a good partner out there, someone we can trust / to receive the funds on our behalf. It is oil money and legal. / The most important thing is; “Can We Trust you”? Once the funds get to you, simply take out 20% as your share and keep / the remaining 80% for us. Your own part of this deal is to find a safe / place where the funds can be sent to, ours is sending it to you / safely. Also you can view this Link for proper verification / http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/2988455.stm If you are interested I will furnish you with more details upon receipt / of your response and contact details. But I can assure you the whole process is simple and we must keep a low profile at all times. I look forward to your reply and co-operation.We have kept this money / for so long but right now the president elect Barack Obama said he is / pulling us out so I must have this cash out immediately. Regards, / Col. Harrison Caleb DOH… I TAKE NO RESPONSIBILITY IF YOU FOLLOW THE LINK OR THE INSTRUCTIONS… SHEESH!
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Robin Hood’s Bay Robin Hood’s Bay is a small fishing town or village located five miles south of Whitby on the coast of North Yorkshire, England. / The town, which consists of a maze of tiny streets, has a tradition of smuggling. / There is reputed to be a network of subterranean passageways linking the houses. / What we are more certain of is that in the 18 th century, Robin Hood’s Bay was reportedly the busiest smuggling community on the Yorkshire coast. / Its natural isolation, protected by marshy moorland on three sides, offered a natural aid to this well-organised business which, despite its dangers, must have paid better than fishing. / Smuggling at sea was backed up by many on land who were willing to finance and transport contraband. / Fisherfolk, farmers clergy and gentry alike were all involved. / Fierce battles ensued between smugglers and excise men, both at sea and on land, and Bay wives were known to pour boiling water over excise men from bedroom windows in the narrow alleyways. / Hiding places, bolt holes and secret passages abounded. / It is said that a bale of silk could pass from the bottom of the village to the top without leaving the houses.
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While hurrying down a slope to the Botany Bay shore to capture quickly setting sun I turned back and saw a small rainbow touching the ground. At that day of changing weather small pack of rain clouds patrolled Sydney watering various locations. That is the kind of weather when sky is putting up a great display and a final act most of the times coincides with a sunset. The Macquarie Watchtower was built at around 1810s as a military guardhouse and a lookout station with an intention to intercept smugglers. A preventive officer who lived there would watch all vessels coming along the coast from the tower’s flat roof. Ships that entered the bay were required to stay mid-stream until the clearance papers were checked by a customs functionary. I had about 3-5 minutes to photograph everything I wanted here. Sun was setting down quickly and I did not want to miss that. In a hurry I set my tripod at the lowest position possible. This helped to remove the background views of parking and distant bay creating better composition. Lying on the grass I then made a quick bracketing set varying exposures and focusing straight on the tower. That came out fine with a rainbow, but there was so much to see around including the sky. For next attempt I decided to do a panorama in 4 parts: 2 below the horizon and 2 above. Focus is set and I am switching it over to manual to stop re-focusing between the shots. Vibration Reduction is off too and here we go, 3 clicks and [2,0,+2 EV] is captured. Looks good on the preview and I am gone to the rocky shore. But when I looked on the pictures on my PC afterwards I was upset by a mistake – one of the panoramic sets has the tower in soft focus. Looks like something went wrong with my manual setup. However, I was lucky first shots came out alright and I was able to use the tower from there. / The next part of workflow is as usual: create a HDR file from every AEB set (3 RAW – 1 HDR), stitch 4 resulting HDRs into one panoramic HDR, tonemap into a 16-bit tiff and do some post-processing for contrast and colors. Location: La Perouse, New South Wales, Australia From my photoblog at http://www.bouncedphoton.com This print is available with 0% markup. Please enjoy and thank you for your visit!
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Ventnor Beach, Isle Of Wight A warm, sunny day at the end of October in the seaside town of Ventnor on the Isle of Wight. British weather at its unpredictable best! Situated in the Solent off the south coast of England, the Isle of Wight is 23 miles long by 13 miles wide and has 60 miles of largely unspoilt coastline from the The Needles in the west to Bembridge in the east. Ventnor faces south-east and is sheltered by the land mass of St Boniface down, the highest point on the island at 787 feet. Ventnor’s Museum of Smuggling History was opened in 1973 with the help of the local council. It features 700 years of smuggling methods and artefacts and life sized models of personalities from the smuggling past. Date: 29th October 2009
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