A police escort waits patiently as I stroll the ash-blanketed streets of Montserrat's capital, Plymouth. Behind me, cattle meander through the vast gray expanse of hardened mudflows spewed by Montserrat's volcano—flanked by stunning emerald greensward. Before me a pristine beach glistens like black pearls in the sun. Graceful Georgian buildings poke up like restless sprites: the bell turret of the War Memorial, the gables of Government House. Suddenly I stop short to avoid plunging through a collapsed roof. A droll yet dreamlike store display is revealed: untouched rows of sneakers and Swatches in a former shop—a good 15 feet underground. More »
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