Syrian Castle among Quake-Hit Ancient Sites at Risk

In this file photo taken on February 7, 2023, the minaret of the Ayyubid mosque inside Aleppo's ancient citadel is cracked following a deadly earthquake that shook Syria. (AFP)
In this file photo taken on February 7, 2023, the minaret of the Ayyubid mosque inside Aleppo's ancient citadel is cracked following a deadly earthquake that shook Syria. (AFP)
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Syrian Castle among Quake-Hit Ancient Sites at Risk

In this file photo taken on February 7, 2023, the minaret of the Ayyubid mosque inside Aleppo's ancient citadel is cracked following a deadly earthquake that shook Syria. (AFP)
In this file photo taken on February 7, 2023, the minaret of the Ayyubid mosque inside Aleppo's ancient citadel is cracked following a deadly earthquake that shook Syria. (AFP)

Zuhair Hassoun examines worrying cracks in a Crusader-era castle in Syria, a UNESCO World Heritage site that survived centuries of conflict only to be badly damaged by last month's deadly earthquake.

Hassoun, the custodian of the Fortress of Saladin, an architectural treasure with Byzantine roots in the 10th century rebuilt by Frankish Crusaders in the 12th century, walked carefully past fissured walls and crumbling arches.

"All of the fortress's towers are in danger," Hassoun said, warning that one had already fallen after the quake.

Other parts "will inevitably collapse", he said, adding that it was only "a question of time".

The hilltop fortress surrounded by forest was among dozens of cultural heritage sites that officials say were damaged in the devastating 7.8-magnitude quake that hit Türkiye and Syria on February 6.

More than 50,000 people were killed in the disaster, almost 6,000 of them in Syria.

Ancient sites damaged included the Syrian city of Aleppo's famed citadel and Old City.

Dozens of sites damaged

The Fortress of Saladin has been on the United Nations' World Heritage List since 2006, and on the list of World Heritage in Danger since 2013, two years after the start of Syria's civil war.

But the castle, in western Syria's mostly government-held province of Latakia, scraped through the conflict unscathed and was still open to the public -- until last month's quake.

Hassoun said he feared that aftershocks or even heavy rain could cause further damage to the site, whose main facade is now cracked from top to bottom.

"Every (stone) slab weighs at least a ton," he said. "Any part of the fortress that falls into the valley can never be retrieved."

The earthquake hit one of the longest continuously inhabited areas on the planet within the so-called Fertile Crescent home to ancient civilizations including the Sumerians and Phoenicians.

This rich history has left behind a plethora of archaeological sites, many of them thousands of years old.

At the national museum in the capital Damascus, the head of the antiquities and museums department pored over a map of quake-stricken Syrian heritage locations, including in areas outside government control.

"We have identified more than 40 damaged sites," Nazir Awad said, noting that the provinces of Aleppo, Idlib, Latakia and Tartus were badly affected.

"The Citadel of Aleppo and the Old City recorded the worst damage," he added.

The day of the quake, AFP photographers saw damage in Aleppo to parts of the citadel, including to a minaret of a mosque at the World Heritage site.

UNESCO, in a preliminary assessment, cited "significant damage" to the citadel and said the western tower of the old city wall had collapsed, while several buildings in the souks had been weakened.

'Urgent intervention'

Some Syrian heritage sites "require urgent intervention so we don't lose priceless historical treasures", Awad said.

He called for "international quake experts" to assess damage across the country, citing reports of "severe damage" to several sites in rebel-held areas.

An AFP photographer saw heavy damage to the Saint Simeon Stylites monastery -- an ancient Christian pilgrimage site named after a famous hermit -- in northern Aleppo province, an area controlled by the Hayat Tahrir al-Sham extremist group.

In the north of neighboring Idlib province, some of the walls and courtyard arches of a centuries-old castle in the border town of Harim had collapsed, another AFP correspondent said.

Firas Mansour, a teacher and antiquities enthusiast in Harim, one of Syria's worst-affected areas where dozens of buildings crumpled as residents slept, said he was not surprised that modern buildings had been destroyed.

"But for a castle that withstood centuries of stress to collapse, it is shocking and sad," he said.



Briton in Russia Revives Soviet-Era Watches for Luxury Market

An employee demonstrates a watch at the Raketa Watch Factory in Peterhof, part of Saint Petersburg, Russia, April 1, 2026. (Reuters)
An employee demonstrates a watch at the Raketa Watch Factory in Peterhof, part of Saint Petersburg, Russia, April 1, 2026. (Reuters)
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Briton in Russia Revives Soviet-Era Watches for Luxury Market

An employee demonstrates a watch at the Raketa Watch Factory in Peterhof, part of Saint Petersburg, Russia, April 1, 2026. (Reuters)
An employee demonstrates a watch at the Raketa Watch Factory in Peterhof, part of Saint Petersburg, Russia, April 1, 2026. (Reuters)

When David Henderson-Stewart first visited Russia's Raketa watch factory, its few remaining watchmakers were huddled in winter coats over vintage equipment.

The British former lawyer knew nothing about watches, but his love of Soviet design led him to see potential in the ailing enterprise, which once employed 7,000 workers and produced timepieces for astronauts and the mass market.

President Vladimir Putin now wears a watch made by its bespoke offshoot, Imperial Peterhof Factory.

"I would never have found something as interesting as Raketa in the West," said Henderson-Stewart, who did not wear a watch until he took over the factory outside St Petersburg with a partner in 2010.

A yearning to ‌live abroad drove ‌Henderson-Stewart to move to Russia to work in law after ‌studying ⁠at Oxford and ⁠at Paris's Sorbonne University. He has stayed, raising three children, who all have Russian citizenship.

Under his leadership, Raketa's pivot to high-end watches with an emphasis on their "Made in Russia" credentials has paid off.

Western sanctions imposed over the war in Ukraine squeezed trade and shuttered foreign luxury stores in Russia from 2022, but domestic demand rose for the largely unsanctioned company, while sales continued to Europe and the Middle East. Its own supply chain was little affected.

"We don't depend on the ⁠West for components. We produce most of them ourselves," Henderson-Stewart said ‌at the revamped Raketa facility, whose industrial roots date ‌to 1721. "That's what our community likes ... that it's a Russian-made watch."

PUTIN BOOST

In the factory, some of the ‌over 200 employees use refurbished machinery to fashion tiny cogs, wheels and springs, continuing the ‌rare practice of making all mechanical parts in-house. Elsewhere, watchmakers with magnifying eyepieces work painstakingly, pop music blaring in the background.

Raketa received a boost in 2022 when Putin was spotted wearing his Imperial Peterhof Factory watch. Some local media read it as a signal of support for domestic production after ‌the invasion of Ukraine.

Putin has since worn the watch regularly, spurring demand for similar designs, said Henderson-Stewart.

"We were told that it would ⁠be better not ⁠to replicate this exact model," he added.

Public records show Raketa posted profit of 109 million roubles ($1.43 million) in 2025, over 15% more than in 2024.

Priced from around $700 to $3,500, Raketa watches are mostly based on Soviet designs, including the steely-faced Baikonur, named after the cosmodrome from which Moscow still launches crewed space flights.

The hands of another of its watches sweep counter-clockwise. This unique model has become a bestseller since it was brought to Henderson-Stewart's attention by head engineer Lyudmila Voynik, 86, who has worked at the factory since the 1950s.

Voynik pulled out a hand-inked technical drawing, patched with tape, from a filing cabinet - one of many she kept safe throughout Raketa's post-Soviet troubles.

"Our Raketas remain the same. Maybe some small changes in details here and there," she said. "I have lived my life here. I am proud that we managed to revive it all once again."


Skydiver Left Dangling When Parachute Snags on Stadium Video Board

In this image from video, personnel on a lift work to secure a skydiver that crashed into the Lane Stadium scoreboard before Virginia Tech’s spring NCAA college football game, Saturday, April 18, 2026, in Blacksburg, Va. (Ben Walls/WRIC8 via AP)
In this image from video, personnel on a lift work to secure a skydiver that crashed into the Lane Stadium scoreboard before Virginia Tech’s spring NCAA college football game, Saturday, April 18, 2026, in Blacksburg, Va. (Ben Walls/WRIC8 via AP)
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Skydiver Left Dangling When Parachute Snags on Stadium Video Board

In this image from video, personnel on a lift work to secure a skydiver that crashed into the Lane Stadium scoreboard before Virginia Tech’s spring NCAA college football game, Saturday, April 18, 2026, in Blacksburg, Va. (Ben Walls/WRIC8 via AP)
In this image from video, personnel on a lift work to secure a skydiver that crashed into the Lane Stadium scoreboard before Virginia Tech’s spring NCAA college football game, Saturday, April 18, 2026, in Blacksburg, Va. (Ben Walls/WRIC8 via AP)

A skydiver ‌trailing a large American flag drifted off course and became tangled in the video board at a US college football game on Saturday, leaving him suspended above the field by his parachute until he was rescued.

Viral videos from inside ‌Virginia Tech's ‌Lane Stadium, confirmed ‌by ⁠Reuters, showed two ⁠skydivers descending into the arena before the school's spring game, when one of them missed the designated landing area, hit the electronic scoreboard and ⁠became entangled.

Fans watched in ‌distress as ‌the skydiver, whose name was not ‌immediately released, was left hanging ‌for 15 to 20 minutes before emergency crews using an aerial ladder brought him to safety.

"We ‌are grateful to report that the skydiver was safely ⁠secured ⁠and is currently stable. Our primary focus remains on their well-being," Virginia Tech officials posted on X.

"We extend our sincere appreciation to the first responders, event staff, and medical personnel for their swift, coordinated and professional response."

No injuries were reported during the incident.


Chernobyl’s Radioactive Landscape Is Testament to Nature’s Resilience and Survival Spirit

Wild Przewalski horses graze in a forest inside the Chernobyl exclusion zone, Ukraine, Wednesday, April 8, 2026. (AP)
Wild Przewalski horses graze in a forest inside the Chernobyl exclusion zone, Ukraine, Wednesday, April 8, 2026. (AP)
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Chernobyl’s Radioactive Landscape Is Testament to Nature’s Resilience and Survival Spirit

Wild Przewalski horses graze in a forest inside the Chernobyl exclusion zone, Ukraine, Wednesday, April 8, 2026. (AP)
Wild Przewalski horses graze in a forest inside the Chernobyl exclusion zone, Ukraine, Wednesday, April 8, 2026. (AP)

On contaminated land that is too dangerous for human life, the world’s wildest horses roam free.

Across the Chernobyl exclusion zone, Przewalski’s horses — stocky, sand-colored and almost toy-like in appearance — graze in a radioactive landscape larger than Luxembourg.

On April 26, 1986, an explosion at the nuclear power plant in Ukraine sent radiation across Europe and forced the evacuation of entire towns, displacing tens of thousands. It was the worst nuclear disaster in history.

Four decades on, Chernobyl — which is transliterated as “Chornobyl” in Ukraine — remains too dangerous for humans. But the wildlife has moved back in.

Wolves now prowl the vast no-man’s-land spanning Ukraine and Belarus, and brown bears have returned after more than a century. Populations of lynx, moose, red deer and even free-roaming packs of dogs have rebounded.

Przewalski’s horses, native to Mongolia and once on the brink of extinction, were introduced here in 1998 as an experiment.

Known as “takhi” in Mongolia (“spirit”), the horses are distinct from domestic breeds, with 33 pairs of chromosomes compared with 32 in domesticated horses. The modern name comes from the Russian explorer who first formally identified them.

“The fact that Ukraine now has a free-ranging population is something of a small miracle,” said Denys Vyshnevskyi, the zone’s lead nature scientist.

With human pressure gone, parts of the exclusion zone now resemble European landscapes from centuries past, he said, adding: “Nature recovers relatively quickly and effectively.”

The transformation is visible everywhere. Trees pierce abandoned buildings, roads dissolve into forest, and weathered Soviet-era signs stand beside leaning wooden crosses in overgrown cemeteries.

Hidden cameras show the horses adapting in unexpected ways. They seek shelter in crumbling barns and deserted homes, using them to escape harsh weather and insects — even bedding down inside.

The animals live in small social groups — typically one stallion with several mares and their young — alongside separate bands of younger males. Many died after their introduction, but others adapted.

Tracking them takes time. Vyshnevskyi often drives alone for hours, setting motion-sensitive camera traps in camouflaged casings attached to trees.

Despite persistent radiation, scientists have not recorded widespread die-offs, though subtler effects are evident. Some frogs have developed darker skin, and birds in higher-radiation areas are more likely to develop cataracts.

However, new threats have emerged.

Russia’s 2022 invasion brought fighting through the exclusion zone as troops advanced toward Kyiv, digging defenses into contaminated soil. Fires linked to military activity swept through forests.

Harsh wartime winters have also taken a toll. Damage to the power grid left surrounding managed areas without resources, and scientists report increases in fallen trees and dead animals — casualties of both extreme conditions and hastily built fortifications.

“Most forest fires are caused by downed drones,” said Oleksandr Polischuk, who leads a firefighting unit in the zone. “Sometimes we have to travel dozens of kilometers to reach them.”

Fires can send radioactive particles back into the air.

Today, the zone is no longer just an accidental refuge for wildlife. It has become a heavily monitored military corridor, marked by concrete barriers, barbed wire and minefields — a landscape of what some describe as grim beauty.

Personnel rotate in and out to limit radiation exposure. Chernobyl is likely to remain off-limits for generations — too dangerous for people, yet full of life.

“For those of us in conservation and ecology, it’s kind of a wonder,” Vyshnevskyi said. “This land was once heavily used — agriculture, cities, infrastructure. But nature has effectively performed a factory reset.”