My past few articles have covered some pretty heavy subjects, ranging from eating dog tacos, to an island full of haunted dolls and to the ruins of one of Mesoamerica's greatest cities. To lighten the mood a little, I decided to put together a photo essay of the beautiful city of Puebla.

Puebla is much smaller than Mexico City so it isn't as noisy, it isn't as rushed and it's much more walkable. While there are still 1.4 million people living here, it doesn't feel that way. To be honest, if I was to choose between Mexico City or Pubela to revisit, I would probably choose Puebla.

Puebla is known worldwide for its colourful buildings, narrow streets and hundreds upon hundreds of churches. I was told by one gentlemen that there are 365 churches in the city – one for each day of the year – but when I told another gentlemen that, he looked at me surprised and asked "Is that all?"

If you haven't been following the news (or you chose to tune it out – in which case, I don't blame you) you may have missed the recent rhetoric between North Korea and the United States about possibly starting a nuclear war.

For those new to the story, after many years of research and development, North Korea has finally created an intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM) that has the capability of striking the entire United States. They have also been able to scale their nuclear warheads down to fit inside their ICBMs. This potentially gives them the ability to nuke any location between Tokyo and New York City.

I have very little knowledge in geopolitics nor the ability to read the minds of Kim Jong-un or Donald Trump (thank God for that) but I do have an interest in atomic bombs and have been to the sites of various nuclear disasters. With the limited knowledge I have, I will explain why, even with the possibility of nuclear war on the horizon, the world probably won't end tomorrow.

As I stood in the courtyard of Fort Henry, I heard screams emanating from within. Fort Henry was constructed to protect the Kingston Royal Dockyard from the invading American forces during the War of 1812. The threat was so real that the capital of Canada – which was then Kingston – was moved to Quebec to protect it. The docks are all that stood between the United States and the St. Lawrence River and both countries were all too familiar with how easily it would turn the tides of battle.

As the screams from inside Fort Henry faded, I turned to the man beside me. He had come with his family. We got talking, trying to calm our nerves as bloodied clowns and undead mimes began wandering out from inside the fort.

"What brings you to Kingston?" he asked.