Uganda 2014
The prospect of teaching a dozen or so E blockers a few times a week may seem a daunting prospect for any new beak. It was understandable then that the prospect of teaching up to a hundred Ugandan children every day seemed a little daunting to us, a jumbled ensemble of teenagers lacking in any real credentials for the task besides enthusiasm; it was testament to the fact that our time teaching in Uganda, approximately three months, wouldn’t be to everyone’s tastes that one of the girls quickly reduced our number from a group of fourteen to thirteen following just a week of teaching, taking the first plane back to the UK.
Having touched down in Entebbe at the close of January, we were brought to our orientation week in Jinja, the second largest ‘city’ (this is a loose description) in Uganda. Here we were indoctrinated into the basics of the local culture; cuisine, etiquette and language. The latter of these proved to be the trickiest to overcome (despite the rightful claims of the particularly unappetising ‘posho’ and beans that would become the staple of our diet from day to day) as we were provided with some basics in Lusoga, a variation of Swahili. Whilst we toiled away with our pronunciation, the greater issue was that we were informed that the majority of the children we would be teaching had little to no grasp of English, the primary subject we were due to be teaching them.
My time for the next 3 months or so would be spent with the two other boys in our group, teaching in Nambaale, a rural village an hour and a half away from Jinja. Upon our arrival we were greeted with an enormous lunch prepared by Mrs Azedy, a member of our host family and were inundated with questions regarding England and our first impressions of Uganda. Generally speaking we had been warned off engaging in any religious or political discussion following the recent developments in Uganda whereby homosexuality has become a criminal offence, yet the other teachers were keen to learn of our religious sympathies. Despite seeming pleased by our own Christian backgrounds (Christianity being the dominant religion nationally), it swiftly became apparent that religious interpretation had heavily influenced our western and Ugandan cultures separately; biblical literalism was evident in the respectively dominant and subservient social roles of men and women, sexually conservative ideals of a modest, heterosexual presentation of oneself, and an underlying suspicion of potentially ‘debauched’ behaviour such as drinking and smoking. This only underlined the dubious nature of religious interpretation, for whilst we were all united by a common ‘Christian’ cultural influence, there was frequently a disparity in our social outlooks.
Once teaching got underway, we were soon into the swing of things – the two schools represented entirely different challenges. The first school, Nambaale Primary, represented the most immediately daunting task in the form of classes numbering up to one hundred – the impracticalities are obvious; conversely Hilltop Primary school was far smaller, with some classes as small as five, mine a modest ten to twenty. Upon questioning why the classes varied so much in number, even from day to day, we soon learnt that the education of the children largely came secondary to their respective family’s income; where business flourished, the children were in frequent attendance, whilst the less fortunate were forced to help the family income in the shops or farming the land.
However, despite the smaller size of my class at Hilltop, I felt far more pressure to succeed as a teacher. The Ugandan education system can be likened to that of the old grammar schools in the UK, complete with the equivalent of the 11+ examinations. In short, those who passed the test are able to attend senior school, those who don’t are consigned to making a living elsewhere, their opportunities unfairly and vastly limited. Teaching itself could therefore be a little frustrating at times, since the disparity in the quality of both spoken and written English amongst the children was vast and therefore progress could be a little slow at times; often difficult to accept, we were told to push on at the pace of the strongest students rather than working slowly to accommodate those who struggled. This seemed effective enough, particularly in Maths rather than English, where the language barrier appeared less of an issue.
Although, we had mixed success when it came to the academic progression of the children, despite our best efforts, our presence at school largely seemed to have a positive effect. For the school itself, we provided funds to concrete over the dusty old floors of a couple of the classrooms, as well as purchasing some of the raw materials for a planned new dormitory. Perhaps more significantly, our introduction of P.E proved to be particularly popular amongst the children, since the teachers at school are fairly reluctant to contribute their time to extracurricular activities. Many of the children were apparently largely unenthusiastic about school, yet the promise of a football or similar seemed to be a large enough bribe that their attendance was far more consistent; apparently in our absence numbers often dwindle. It was hoped therefore that, even if we ourselves could not have the desired impact on the students directly, by encouraging an enthusiasm for the school environment, those better equipped for teaching, primarily a fluency in the local language, would be able to have an improved influence on their education. Therefore, despite what we had perhaps sold to ourselves before coming to Uganda, visions of us as inspiring, ground-breaking teachers, our impact was perhaps a little more subtle, yet equally worthwhile; our value to these schools was arguably our alternative, and thus fresh, approach to education, and our emphasis on its importance to the children. Therefore regardless of success or failure elsewhere, we could leave Uganda feeling we had offered something different, and hopefully something of use.
In short, my time in Uganda, for fear of slipping into gap year cliché, was a wholly productive one; I myself came away having engrossed myself in an extremely rich, familial culture whilst I would hope the children themselves were brought an invigorated enthusiasm for learning as a means to improve their own quality of life. Having said that, despite the evident poverty we saw, in many ways the people were far happier, far more optimistic, and far more grateful for what they had – it is an attitude that I for one will certainly take with me. I would like to thank the St Nicholas Society enabling me to do so.
Camino De Santiago July 2013
As I sat on the train from Toulouse to St Jean Pied-du-Port the starting point of the Camino de Santiago, I had a chance to reflect on the significance of this journey for ancient catholic pilgrims, whom in following the ‘Camino’ (way) of St James would yearn to reach the fabled city of Santiago de Compostella the home of the Shrine of St James the Great.
I was to walk one part of this journey, beginning at St-Jean Pied-du-Port and ending in the student city of Logrono. Passing through Lourdes and seeing the Sanctuary of Our Lady of Lourdes started to give me a sense of the importance of religion, and in particular catholicism to the people in this part of Europe. It struck me that home in the UK, religion and the church once very important take a sideline these days for most of us with the increasing pace of modern day life. It was striking to see, in the town of Los Arcos, the entire town gathering in the church for the funeral of an old member of the community. One could not help but marvel, not only at the level of care and the sense of community exhibited by the towns-people but also at the importance of the a church at the centre of it all. This is something which particularly struck me, and in the quiet, laid back towns of Navarra was particularly noticeable.
The guide book I used for the trip, consistently encouraged me to reject all pressures outside the Camino and to focus my mind on ‘being’. This was more easily said than done. The first day of walking was a 25 kilometre trek across the Pyrennees. The guidebook helpfully converted this into a ‘feel’ distance, that is to say, how far it would feel like (taking into account the change in altitude) which it said was 35 kilometres, this had a slightly less appealing ring to it! As I set off, puffing and panting, it was difficult to focus and think about anything spiritual. I couldn’t bring myself to inwardly debate the needs of religion in the modern day, and where religion fitted into my life, which was what I had planned on doing when considering the intended enlightenment of the trip. Yet the mixture of the intense and jaw dropping views back across the mountains to France and then down into Spain and then, further on the walk, the miles upon miles of olive groves and vineyards, not to mention the running of the bulls in Pamplona and the panoramic views from the Spanish Civil war Citadel of Ciraqui, enabled me to expand my thinking. I came to realise that this journey was not about myself, or my own actions, but with every step I was following in the footsteps of other weary travellers, slowly plodding through the vast open fields of the Navarra region. I had been given the chance to be a part of one of the oldest pilgrimages in Europe, not simply soaking in the hundreds of years of history but being part of the future history of the pilgrimage. It is a truly special place.
The wonderful hospitality of the people who ran the ‘Albergs’ (pilgrim hostels) along the route could not be underestimated. Many opening up their homes and asking for very little in exchange for bed and breakfast. This hospitality makes walking the Camino accessible to people from all walks of life and gave me to a wonderful chance to meet an array of people who had all come to do the pilgrimage for their own specific reasons. When staying in the town of Zubiri, I met a Frenchman in the Alberg bar who explained to me in a mixture of French and incredibly broken English that he had just left prison and, filled with remorse for his previous actions, was trying to find his true character on the Camino. He then took me around the Alberg, showing me that this sleepy and innocent little house was not quite all it seemed, taking me to a small balcony at the back stuffed full of plant pots, which, when he pointed it out to me, I realised were marijuana!
This extraordinary mixture of interesting people, stunning scenery, sleepy spanish country towns and wonderful food made my time on the Camino de Santiago de Compostella a truly remarkable experience. If you are looking for fun, company or just for a time to be with yourself and contemplate the busy, action filled life that you lead outside the shelter and tranquillity of the Camino, then I cannot recommend the pilgrimage more!
First Report – Eastern Europe Trip 2012
This summer along with an entourage of Etonians I travelled around Eastern Europe for a month. We started in Budapest and then made our way through Serbia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croatia, Montenegro, Albania, Macedonian and finished in Thessaloniki. We travelled so far and did so much in the month that there isn’t space or time here to go through a blow by blow account of what we did, what I will do however is mention some of the highlights of the trip.
Budapest was incredible: I particularly enjoyed seeing St. Stephen’s Basilica which was stunning. St. Stephen was the first king of Hungary and seems to be a tenuous saint with his miracle needed for canonisation consisting of a selection dubious healing miracles that occurred at his tomb. Nevertheless his right hand, which is on display in the basilica, is still considered a very sacred relic by the people of Budapest.
Having left Hungary, Roman Catholicism was no longer the dominant religion but instead that of the various Orthodox churches. When going round churches such as the enormous Cathedral of Saint Sava in Belgrade (one of the ten largest church buildings in the world). It was interesting to see the differences between both their shape (endless domes in the Orthodox Churches as opposed to towers and spires in Roman Catholicism) and, more interestingly, the difference in behaviour in church. In nearly all the Orthodox churches we went into there were various pictures of saints and Jesus which people would go up to and kiss and then leave money on the picture. This was quite alien to me.
Bosnia and Herzegovina was probably my favourite country out of all the Balkans. It had everything – interesting history, beautiful architecture (a very Eastern feeling), good food, incredible countryside and fun nightlife. It was a really nice change to have delicious more Turkish like food after the disgustingly bland food in Serbia. We went to a few museums about the conflict in the 1990s and also saw the spot where Franz Ferdinand was assassinated in Sarajevo as well as the gun that was used. The museums about the siege of Sarajevo were incredibly shocking, the combination of so many civilians being killed (10,500) and it being so recent made it really quite moving. It was extraordinary seeing just how many bullet holes there were in buildings across the city, as well as some buildings which had just been left totally ruined by shelling. The most powerful example of this was in Mostar where there was a building known as the ‘sniper tower’. This was totally covered in bullet holes and inside there were still literally thousands of used bullets all over the floor amongst broken glass. Apart from the rust on the bullets, it was as if the war had only finished a week previously.
Albania was an extraordinary place. I had read previously in a magazine article that it had the highest proportion of stolen cars in the world and I think the article was right. Despite being a really poor country and quite primitive everyone drives a Mercedes! If you don’t have a Mercedes you cycle! This was a shame considering that the driving was truly terrifying and made more terrifying by the fact that Mercedes are fast cars! It appears that cars in Albania overtake as and when they regardless of whether there are cars on the other side of the road or if it is a blind corner. We must have missed a head on collision at 50mph with a Mercedes by 6inch (no exaggeration). Tirana was not a particularly beautiful city although less communist looking than I had expected and it did have some beautiful buildings. We went into this lovely mosque in the main square which had incredible murals.
We then undertook an epic journey to Ohrid in Macedonia which involved multiple minibuses, a taxi, walking across a border, hitch-hiking and another bus. Ohrid is known as the town of a church for every day of the year as it was once fabled to have had 365 of them. There were so many stunning Macedonian Orthodox churches perched on the edge of this huge lake. There was also an excellent iconography museum in Ohrid which we spent a long time at – it was an incredible collection of all the most precious and beautiful icons from all of the hundreds of churches around lake Ohrid.
We finished in Thessaloniki which also had some lovely Greek Orthodox churches in. We went to a service there and it was interesting to see how different the format was from normal mass. It seemed to last for much longer and people would walk in and out during the service, people didn’t seem to stay for the duration (including us!) and the holiest part of the church is behind a screen which only the priest can go into and is out of view from the congregation. I also met a Greek Orthodox priest who I tried to have a discussion with about the differences between the Orthodox and Roman Catholic Church – sadly his English wasn’t really up to it and he just look very confused and nodded!
Thus concludes the stories about my travels. All that remains for me to do is to thank you so much for the travel grant – I had an amazing time and plan to go back and visit this area in the future.
Second Report – Istanbul is dominated by Islam, failing to recognise the city’s Christian Importance – 2012
During my recent trip to Istanbul and Belgrade, courtesy of the St. Nicholas Society’s generous grant, I was able to visit some outstanding sights. However, I felt that, after a short period of time to look back upon my trip, I found the most personally fascinating, as well as something which could be widely appreciated, was the city of Istanbul. The city itself is the only city in the world which traverses two continents; it is home to one of the busiest shipping lanes in the world, the route between Europe and Asia, as well as being the capital of one of the most powerful Empires in history. However, it is city’s religious identity that is the facet which needs to be uncovered. The city was fundamental in the growth of Christianity during the Roman and Byzantine periods, until the point at which the city was conquered in 1453 and morphed into the Islamic stronghold and the seat of the last caliphate. In the current period the vast majority of people across Istanbul consider themselves Muslim, specifically followers of the Sunni sect. Whilst the everyday living of the Christians has changed drastically following conflicts with the Turks during the decline of the Ottoman Empire, up until the climax of the Balkan Wars, First World War and the Turkish war of Independence.
The Patriarch of Constantinople has been designated Ecumenical Patriarch from the 4th century AD, leading to it having become the leader of the world’s 300 million Orthodox Christians, approximately. The Patriarchate has been based in Istanbul’s Church of St. George, which is a remarkably unidentifiable building, walking past it could quite easily be regarded as a block of apartments, there is a lone security guard with no information about the building within. However, it is the most stunning building which I have seen, the fact that it is ‘off the beaten track’ ensures that it is all the more impressive.
The Church of St. George was a small building, possibly 30 metres long, by not much more than 15 metres wide and 20 metres high. The exterior is constructed of white marble, with tall arches. The church is surrounded by higher buildings which block out the majority of the natural sunlight of the church; there are two low hanging chandeliers which maintain the ornate golden finishing to the church. Along the walls by the entrance and exit of the building there are golden mosaics depicting angels, with Latin inscriptions. The pulpit is highly elevated to a point which is above the chandeliers, the speaker will be stood next to a painting of Christ upon the ceiling. The Church is finished in a deep mahogany wood for the seats increasing sheer beauty of the building. The front wall of the Church is completely covered with a golden finish, extremely detailed, with crosses, eagles and relief art work. The wall is decorated with elaborate portraits with warm colours embedded in the gold surroundings.
Living in what is the centre of the world’s Orthodox Church is something that is dominated by booming stereo systems from the minarets of the Islamic mosques; it is clearly audible above the city life and even inside the other religious buildings. The call to prayer is something that insures people regard the city as being ‘Islamic’. The Christian services are infrequent and short with few attending, with many of the Churches having fallen into disrepair, such as the Sveti Stephen which is currently ‘under repair’ but has been so for some time. It is hard to tell how many people are actively involved with the Orthodox Church in such an important city. If a comparison is drawn to the Vatican, it must be said that the Orthodox centre of the world is a little feeble and even more so in regard to Mecca, where the Dome of the Rock is situated.
However, this cannot be said to be unjust, the emphasis in religion within the city, despite being against the prestige, in one sense, is completely with the number of followers. With 2691 active mosques and only 123 active churches alongside 109 Muslim cemeteries and 57 non-Muslim cemeteries it almost shows a ‘generosity’ towards people of other faiths. Looking at the populations in Istanbul, out of the rough 13.5 million people, 9-10 million of them are followers of Islam, the rest mixed between Orthodox Christianity and Judaism, approximately 1.5 and 0.7 million respectively. Thus, it is a safe conclusion that the number of religious followers in relation to the number of religious buildings is disproportional. Despite the domination that Islam has over the city, it could be argued, and probably should be argued, that it requires a greater domination in order to fulfil the religious necessities of the people who live within the city walls.
To conclude, there is no question that Istanbul is a city that is heavily dominated by Islam, despite the importance of it as the centre of the Orthodox Church. The city illustrates both the desires of the public and the practical requirements, with the majority of the city needing to enter into a mosque at the same times each day, the city needs to be able to facilitate this. The city still features the stunning beauty of the St. George church, which allows people to visit the Christian place of worship, however it is one of very few that are accessible within the city walls, many of them are outside of the centre of town on the European side of the city. Istanbul tries to bring about a hard to find balance between the two main religions and despite the hindrances currently in place; it in the most part succeeds.
Third Report – The History of Major Orthodox Churches in Belgrade, Sofia, and Istanbul – 2012
When we arrived in Belgrade we were struck by how different it was to the preconceptions we had set out with. Far from being an impoverished relic of its violent and destructive recent past, Belgrade was a busy, modern, and very pleasant city, full of incredibly friendly people. Our first port of call was The Cathedral Church of Saint Michael the Archangel – a large and simply designed church in an area of the city in which pedestrians were few and far between, but with a large road heading up to The Cathedral (as it is known locally), as in the foreground of this photograph. Despite this there was a consistent trickle of worshippers drifting in and out – all properly dressed with lower legs and shoulders covered. The Cathedral has its own regularly updated and very detailed website, detailing much of Christianity’s history in Belgrade and the role of The Cathedral today. Because photography is forbidden within The Cathedral, it also provides a useful documentation for the richly-decorated interior. Despite seeming well-staffed (there was a gardener tending the small graveyard at the front of The Cathedral as well as three members inside) there were countless opportunities to donate towards the continued restoration of The Cathedral, as well as a rather expensive Orthodox-themed gift shop in the annexe. This would be a theme repeated throughout our time in Eastern Europe – that those who were interested in the preservation of traditional orthodoxy would throw themselves wholeheartedly into the task, but that the majority of the population seemed content to focus on other aspects of their lives. This was epitomised by a discussion I had with a hostel owner where we stayed in central Belgrade. He, having seen much of the second half of the 20th Century, noted how people had become more concerned with modernisation and the transformation of Serbia into a wealthy
Western state and how traditional Serbian life, including the Orthodox Church, had been neglected. When walking through central Belgrade this is only too obvious. One is reminded of Oxford Street on a busy day, rather than a nation in which over 80% of its inhabitants claim to adhere to Orthodox Christianity. This was repeated across the road at The Patriarchate of The Serbian Orthodox Church, which was closed for refurbishment for an extended period of time when we visited. Having been made Monument of Culture of Exceptional Importance in 1979 we hoped that this building would give us a good insight into the history of the Serbian Orthodox Church, of which the first Patriarch was made in 1346. The modern Patriarchate is an imposing building, built opposite The Cathedral, but slightly out of line with it, as the zebra crossing in the photograph here shows.
From here we crossed the city to the more centrally located St. Mark’s church, just south of the National Assembly. St Mark’s is a much larger, more modern Church than The Cathedral, having only been completed in 1940. Having said that, the interior was not finished due to the second world war and the scaffolding shows the extent of the restoration and completion which is still in progress. Inside, the only decoration is at ground level apart from four large marble pillars, and the walls and the interiors or the domes are a bare stone. It is a far cry from the complex and intricate patterns which adorn Mosques in Istanbul and one feels that the money allocated to the decoration of these is significantly more than that available to this Church, despite its location in the heart of Belgrade.
A good walk to the south of this is The Cathedral of Saint Sava, the largest Orthodox Church in the world. It stands well above the skyline in the south of the city, and is visible from several miles away in all directions. Again, though, the Church has had a torrid history. The Cathedral was first proposed to be built in 1895, three hundred years after the burning of the remains of Saint Sava on the same site by the Ottoman authorities in response to a Serb uprising. Work eventually started on it in 1935 but was stopped because of World War Two in 1941. It remained a series of low walls until as late as 1985 when work started again. Now the exterior of the Church has been finished, but inside work continues. When we were there, the main area was a mass of scaffolding and masonry, on which sat a handful of construction workers on their lunch break. A small section at the side of the Church, accessed through a bare stone walkway, had been dedicated to worshippers, and was nothing more than a small jumble of relics with an alter at one end. The result of the work next door was to cover all the surfaces with a thin layer of pale grey dust. As we went back outside we walked around the side to find a steel fence with construction signs on it as well as what must have been hundreds of tonnes of marble sitting in a pile. As we watched, a tourist picked up a small piece which had broken off and put it in his pocket. After this we visited a very different Church, across the river Sava, that of St. Vasilije of Ostrog, in the new area of Belgrade. Being much smaller and more modern than the other churches we had visited, we were struck by how it was geared more towards practicality than opulence. It received a regular stream of local worshippers and reminded me very much of a parish church in this country in terms of its function.
During our time in Istanbul we realised that the train which would take us directly to Istanbul was no longer functioning due to Turkish rail issues. We therefore had the opportunity to spend a full day in Sofia, Bulgaria’s capital, and take a bus from there onwards. Because we were so underprepared for this day, and because we wanted to make the most of it, we got in touch with one of its residents and another recent OE, Peter Iltchev, who agreed to show us round his city. The first major attraction was the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, with its enormous golden domes. Again, despite being in the centre of the city, at the end of Sofia’s famous ‘yellow brick road’, the building was largely deserted, and the graffiti and dirt on the bottom of the walls reminded us that in the 100 years since it was completed its importance in the city has dwindled. This was repeated within, with walls covered in a thick layer of black grime, making the vast murals difficult to see, and the large, elaborate iconostasis difficult to appreciate. We then walked to the St. George Rotunda, a small Roman Church which since its completion in the 4thCentury has seen various repossessions by different religious groups, leading to eclectic style which it and the ruins surrounding it exhibit. Despite being the oldest building in Sofia, there still remain parts of frescoes on the interior of the dome, some of which were painted over a millennium ago. Moving forward, the Saint Nedelya Church, in the centre of a major roadway in the city, was completed in the mid nineteenth century, when the wooden church on the same site was demolished after 800 years in that location, in a variety of forms. It sits less than 100 yards away from both a synagogue and a mosque and has led to the local saying which goes along the lines of though they are a stone’s throw apart, never has a stone been thrown against one another. This neatly summarises the relatively amicable relationship between various religious groups in the area, including the peaceful takeover and rule of the Ottomans before Sofia reverted back to its Christian roots.
After a brief stay in Sofia we made our way to Istanbul, arriving at dawn to a city which, despite having almost twice the population of the entirety of Bulgaria, seemed practically empty. We later realised that we had arrived during morning prayer which, in a city with over 20 mosques to each church, explained the deserted streets we saw on our way to our accommodation. We had not previously realised how much more prominent Islam was here; indeed Churches in any form were few and far between. So it was that we visited our first major historic site – the Hagia Sophia, which was the seat of the Greek Orthodox Patriarch for over a millennium until the Ottoman conquest of 1453. It was dedicated to The Logos, as its Greek name suggests, before it was transformed into a Mosque. It was then controversially converted to a museum in 1935, which it remains to this day. Despite its name it is unlike most museums in that it contains very little information. There is certainly very little detail on the Christian history of the building. Instead, the rather steep entry fee seems to be simply to appreciate the interior, which is admittedly very impressive. Unlike its rather plain outer image, the inner walls are richly decorated, but there is almost no indication of its Orthodox roots. In fact, we discovered that there are many mosques which have been converted from, or have taken over the site from, previous Churches, but none of them have retained any of their original architecture or interior decoration.
Instead we visited two major sites on the southern shore of the Golden Horn which we hoped would give us a better understanding of local Orthodoxy. The Church of Saint Stephen of The Bulgars is a Bulgarian Orthodox Church on the Southern shore of the Golden Horn, a few kilometres west of the city centre. Despite looking very much like many other Orthodox Churches we had seen, this one was made completely of cast iron, originally in Vienna, and then floated down the Danube to its current location, where it was bolted together. When we visited much of it was covered by tarpaulins, and the area was fenced off with various signs referring to its refurbishment. However, there was no-one present working on the site, and the building itself was dirty and looked as if it would take a significant period of time to restore it. As well as this, we were struck by how few pedestrians there were in the area, despite the church being right on the water’s edge. The only source of people at all was a main road going directly past the church, but there was nowhere to stop and park at the church – it was more of a bypass than anything else. The site seemed to be on the margin of city life; both in its location and accessibility. I got the feeling that it would have been just as deserted had the Church been open and restored. Nevertheless, we headed towards the Church of St. George, the Ecumenical Patriarchate. It is situated in a small, anonymous street, just opposite the Church of St. Stephen of the Bulgars, and is invisible from the main road which runs parallel to the Golden Horn. It was guarded by a solitary man reading the newspaper in a small kiosk, and shares a site with a wooden monastery which was under construction when we visited. The building itself looks nothing like a Church from the outside and it was not until we entered did we realise that we were looking at the right building. There was nobody guarding the Church itself, inside or out, and when we entered we were completely alone having expected it, with its historical importance, to be busy. We also expected a large, grand interior, with space for services with a large number of worshippers. What we found was a small and densely furnished interior, with very few seats and scarcely any floor space. Having confirmed that we were allowed to take photos within the Church itself, we attempted to get some idea of the small scale, and the concentration of relics, frescoes, chandeliers and gilded surfaces. Despite being small, the riches within it were incredible. However, we were again confronted with the reality that there were very few people around to appreciate them, and it seemed from the lack of staff members in the early afternoon on a Thursday that the Church was usually this empty. To compound this, on walking around to the side of the Church we found a secluded room in the base of a wall not twenty metres from the corner of the building itself which was full of boxes of paintings and icons which were covered in dust and looked as if they had been there for decades. It seemed strange that these were of such little importance that they were left to decay out of sight, and such that anyone could have walked in and taken whatever they wanted to. However, this was indicative of our experience of Christianity in Istanbul as a whole. It has a historical tradition which is rich and detailed, but has now passed into such obscurity as to be largely ignored by the current population, and the city seems to have grown used to the idea that Islam has eclipsed Christianity as the dominant religion.