Thursday 24 May 2012

Sarajevo (1), The Old Town, The New Town and the Assassination of Franz Ferdinand: Part 1 of The Balkans

Ottoman Sarajevo, Austro-Hungarian Sarajevo, and the Spark that Ignited the First World War

First Impressions

Bosnia and Herzegovina
Sarajevo

The sun was shining as we left the terminal at Sarajevo’s small airport and found our way to the taxi rank for the ritual ripping off of the new arrival. ‘Fixed fare to the Old Town,’ the driver said when I naively suggested he might switch on his meter. 30 Marks (£12) may or may not have been the correct fare but it was, we would discover, expensive compared with other local taxi rides.

Sarajevo lies along a narrow valley with mountains surrounding it on three sides and the airport on the fourth. The drive to our hotel, a hundred metres uphill from the Old Town, took us the length of the long thin city as we journeyed back in time from the modern airport, through the 1960s' apartment blocks – some of outstanding ugliness - through the turn of the last century Austro-Hungarian administrative area and round the pedestrianised Ottoman heart of the Old Town. Sixteen years had passed since the end of the longest siege in modern military history (April 1992- Feb 1996) but buidlings in every district were pock marked with bullet holes, while some bore the scars of more serious damage.

War damaged buildings, Austro-Hungarian quarter, Sarajevo

Two Millenia of History in 150 Words

The earliest Balkan civilization was Hellenic, the area being known as Illyria from the 8th century BC. The Romans duly took over and when their empire fractured the region was absorbed into the Byzantine Empire. In the 6th century AD Slavic tribes started to arrive. Bosnia emerged as an independent kingdom as the Byzantine Empire disintegrated and from about 1180 to the mid-15th century it was a power of some importance.

The expanding Ottoman Empire swallowed Bosnia in the 1460s, and that was the end of independence (until 1991). Sarajevo was founded in 1461 as the administrative capital for the new Ottoman province. When the Ottoman Empire declined, Bosnia became part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and when that fell in 1918, it joined the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes - later Yugoslavia.

Ottoman Sarajevo

The Ada Hotel, Sarajevo Old Town

We checked into the tiny but excellent Hotel Ada and, after complimentary tea and cakes, took the short walk into the Old Town. Baščaršija Square, known as pigeon square for obvious reasons, is surrounded by cafés. The centrepiece, the Sebilj, looks Ottoman but is actually a drinking fountain erected by the Austrians in 1891.

By the Sebilj, Baščaršija Square, Sarajevo

Narrow alleys lead off the square, each devoted to a single craft.

Metalworkers Street off Baščaršija Square, Sarajevo

The Gazi Husrev-beg Buildings

Not far away are the Gazi Husrev-beg buildings, constructed in 1530 by the Ottoman governor of that name. There is a madrassa, an imposing mosque….

The doorway of the Gazi Husrev-beg Mosque,Sarajevo

…a covered bazaar, which still houses stalls selling linen and second hand books…..

Gazi Husrev-beg Covered Bazaar, Sarajevo

…. and, unusually for a mosque, a clock tower which could be Italian but for the Arabic numerals on the clock face.

The Gazi Husrev-beg clock tower, Sarajevo

The Old Orthodox Church

Gazi-Husrevby may be the oldest but it is certainly not the only mosque in the Old Town. In fact it is a surprise to find a church in such essentially Turkish surroundings. The Church of the Holy Archangels Michael and Gabriel, usually called the Old Orthodox Church, is a 1740 rebuild of a medieval original. Although austere on the outside, the inside is anything but. The church is wider than it is long so has room for a huge iconostasis which is jewel encrusted and festooned with icons. There was also a relic of Saint Thecla and an icon in a glass case that all the other visitors when we were there thought it necessary to kiss.

Orthodox Church, Old Town, Sarajevo

The Yellow Bastion, the Victims of the Siege and the Origin of the Bozniaks

One evening we walked further up the hill behind our hotel. In 1697 the Austrians rampaged across the Ottoman Empire, trashing Sarajevo as they went. In response the Ottomans built the Vratnik citadel, enclosing 50,000 m² at the head of the valley. Part of the wall has recently been rebuilt, but we left that for later and continued to the Yellow Bastion, a crumbling grass-covered stone structure giving magnificent views over the city.

I intended this narrative to follow the history of the city rather than the random wanderings of our visit, but the past is not so orderly. In the foreground of every photograph taken from the Yellow Bastion is a massive Muslim cemetery containing the graves of eleven hundred victims of the siege of Sarajevo, 1991-95.

Sarajevo from the Yellow Bastion

All across the city pencil-slim minarets pointed to the heavens. As dusk fell we heard multiple calls to prayer; the familiar clipped Arabic syllables sung to notes more than usually attuned to the European ear.

When the Ottomans arrived the people of Bosnia were overwhelmingly Christian; Catholic Croats who used the Roman alphabet, and Orthodox Serbs who spoke the same language, but wrote it in Cyrillic, though the orthographic distinction was of small interest to the largely illiterate peasantry. Under Ottoman rule there were distinct advantages in being Muslim and gradually, beginning with the administrative classes, Bosnians started to convert. Eventually there were three distinct communities in Bosnia; Muslim Bosniaks (now 48% of the Bosnian population), Orthodox Serbs (37%) and Catholic Croats (14%).

Dinner Under the Lindens

The first night, we dined at Pod Lipom (Under the Lindens) a restaurant in the Old Town. Observing the other diners, we started with a glass of šljivovica, the fiery plum brandy popular all over the Balkans, accompanied by plate of full flavoured local cheeses. For the main course we chose a mix of local specialities; Bosnian cooks like stuffing vegetables – onions, peppers, vine leaves - with minced beef and covering them with a sauce based on sour cream. A bottle of Montenegrin Vranac, a dark wine with a powerful smoky nose, but lighter palate, was a fine accompaniment. After starting with brandy and cheese we could have eaten our entire meal backwards by finishing with soup, but only in Hanoi have we ever encountered a ‘dessert soup’, and anyway we were too stuffed even for a slice of baklava.

The next two days were drizzly and cool. At home we would have been basking in a late spring heat wave; meteorologically we were definitely in the wrong country.

Bjelava and the Srvzo House

After an hour in the Old Town on Wednesday morning we returned to our hotel for more and drier clothing. In typical Hotel Ada style, no sooner had we reached our room than the proprietor appeared at the door with a tray of tea. Refreshed and more appropriately clad we walked through the rain to the Bjelava district which sits on the lower slopes of the mountain immediately north of the Old Town. It is a mixed residential area with apartment blocks and new brick houses among some old Turkish style dwellings.

The Bjelava district in the rain

The Svrzo House (vowels sometimes seem an optional extra in the Balkans) is the oldest house in Bjelava and, according to the Lonely Planet, ‘the best preserved Ottoman-era courtyard townhouse anywhere in the Balkans.’ With an inner and outer house, wooden balconies, a fully furnished dining room with traditional bench seats.....

Ottoman style dining room, Svrzo House, Bjelava, Sarajevo

.....bedrooms..........

Bedroom, Svrzo House, Bjelava, Sarajevo

...bathrooms and kitchens it gave an insight into the very Eastern lifestyle of the well-off in the Ottoman era

We made our way back down to the old town down streets which sometimes turned into stairs.

Down to the old town on streets that sometimes turn into stairs, Sarajevo

Finding a Beer and a Sandwich

We were heading for a café we had earmarked earlier. Lunch, we had learned on Tuesday, can be a problem in Sarajevo. There are dozens, if not hundreds, of cafés, but coffee is all they sell, with maybe a cake or an ice cream. There are doner kebab stalls – which are every bit as appetising on their home turf as they are in England – and Čevabdžinica, cheap eateries whose specialities, which include ćevapi (grilled cylinders of minced beef) and burek (much the same but encased in filo pastry) are a touch heavy for a light lunch - and they only serve soft drinks. There are bars for those who just want alcohol, but finding the equivalent of a beer and a sandwich required perseverance.

We had spotted a suitable place for lunch an hour or two earlier, before the rainstorm that drove us to change our clothing. Nearby, we had sipped coffee sitting on the carpet covered bench seats outside a typical Ottoman coffee shop on the boundary of the old and the Austro-Hungarian towns. We looked east…..

Looking right into Ottoman Sarajevo

Austro-Hungarian Sarajevo

….and then looked west, both actually and figuratively.

Looking left into Austro-Hungarian Sarajevo

Immediately after I had taken this photograph the light drizzle turned into steady rain, which was good news for the umbrella salesman (bottom left) if for no one else.

The Ottoman Empire frayed at the edges long before it crumbled at the heart. Rioting by starving Bosnians peasants after a disastrous harvest in 1875, sparked off a series of revolts across the Balkans. Three years later the Congress of Berlin invited the Austro-Hungarians to occupy Bosnia to calm the situation; occupation was followed by annexation in 1908.

Many Muslims emigrated to Turkey; those left behind started, for the first time, to develop a Bosniak identity. Sarajevo had quietly prospered under the Ottomans and did as well under the Austro-Hungarians. The city acquired a selection of solid and imposing buildings as the new rulers set out to make the city a modern European capital. Sarajevo had electric street lighting before Vienna (better to test such dangerous new technology in a remote part of the empire) and the first electric tramway in Europe (and the second in the world, after San Francisco).

Two Cathedrals and a Synagogue

Central European neo-Classical Sarajevo remains a city at the juncture of three cultures; it still has mosques, but also churches, including an Orthodox Cathedral…..

The Orthodox Cathedral, Sarajevo

.…and a Catholic Cathedral….

The Catholic Cathedral, Sarajevo

…..and even a pair of synagogues.

The Ashkenazy Synagogue, Sarajevo

And let us not forget the brewery, whose products we enjoyed several times.

Trg Oslobodenja (Liberation Square) has a peace monument, which is in poor repair (fortunately the same cannot be said of the peace) and a giant chess board. Whenever we passed there was always a small crowd watching – and advising - the players.

Playing Chess, Trg Oslobodenja, Sarajevo

The River Miljacka and the Despića House

The River Miljacka, which flows through the whole length of Sarajevo, may be small but frequent, often devastating, floods led to it being canalised in 1891. Consequently the buildings along its banks are entirely Austrian.

Beside the river Miljacka

The riverside Despića House was owned by a wealthy merchant family who also formed Sarajevo’s first theatre company. The ground floor dining room could have been in the Svrzo House - bar the paintings on the walls - but the upstairs salon is pure 19th century Viennese. The room across the landing, decorated with icons, was more eastern orthodox.

Viennese salon, the Despića House, Sarajevo

Understanding the politics and tensions that led to the Balkan Wars of the early 20th century is beyond the scope (and ability) of this blog. However the events of the 29th of June 1914 that thrust Sarajevo into the world headlines for the first, though sadly not last, time in the 20th century are easier to explain- though not to understand - and happened only 50m from the Despića’s front door.

The Assassination of Archduke Ferdinand, 1914

Nationalist factions in independent Serbia hoped to shake Bosnia free from the Austro-Hungarian empire and incorporate it into a greater Serbia – much the same ambitions caused the 1991-5 war. To this end they planned to assassinate Archduke Franz Ferdinand, the heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne, while he was on a well-publicised visit to Sarajevo.

The plot involved the deployment of six potential assassins along the route of the Archduke’s motorcade from the station to the town hall. The first two failed to act, the third threw a bomb which bounced off Franz Ferdinand’s car and exploded under the following vehicle injuring 20. The failed assassin attempted to kill himself by taking a cyanide pill and jumping into the River Miljacka, but the cyanide pill only induced vomiting and jumping into the Miljacka is more likely to break an ankle than cause drowning.

The Miljacka - in places as much as 10 cm deep!

After the attack the motorcade proceeded at high speed and the remaining assassins, including Gavrilo Princip, were unable to act.

The Royal party lunched at the Town Hall, which later became the National Library and was destroyed during the siege. It is currently being rebuilt and from what we could see through the scaffolding, was once a great building and will be again.

Me and the largely rebuilt National Library and former Town Hall, Sarajevo

Abandoning the planned programme, the Royal Party set off towards the hospital to comfort those injured in the morning’s bomb attack. General Potiorek, in charge of security, decided the royal car would be safer to follow the river all the way rather than go through the city centre. Unfortunately, he forgot to tell the driver.

By the Latin Bridge the driver turned into Franz Josef Street. General Potiorek, who was travelling on the car’s running board, stopped him, ordering him to reverse. The driver stalled the engine and locked the gears.

The Latin Bridge with turning into Franz Josef Street next to the museum

Believing his chance had gone, Princip went into a bakery on the corner of Franz Josef Street - the building that is now a museum. He came out to find Franz Ferdinand right in front of him in a stationary car. He fired two shots, killing Franz Ferdinand and his wife the Duchess Sophie, though he later said he intended to kill Genreral Potiorek , not the duchess. He was not a good shot as he next attempted to shoot himself and missed.

There used to be footprints on the pavement marking the point where Princip had stood. That seemed a little frivolous after the siege so they were removed and the point is now marked only by a plaque.

The plaque on the wall of the museum

Inside, The museum tells the full story of the assassination and also has Princip’s gun.

The lower gun is the one used in the assassination

The conspirators were arrested and tried. Some were hanged but several, including Princip, were minors so were sentenced to lengthy terms of imprisonment.

Baldrick was bemused as to how the murder of an ostrich called Archy Duke in a place he had never heard of could have started a World War. It remains a good question. A month to the day after the assassination Austria declared war on Serbia, the next day Russia mobilised, followed by Germany on the 30th of July and France on the 1st of August. On the 4th Great Britain declared war on Germany. Princip could scarcely have imagined the far reaching consequences of his actions. The whole of Europe, it seems, was spoiling for a fight and perhaps if Princip had not provided the spark, another excuse would have been found. Whether or not he was truly responsible, Gavrilo Princip did not live to see the end of it. He died in prison from tuberculosis in 1916.

Despite Princip’s efforts many Bosnians fought for Austria-Hungary in the war. When it ended Bosnia joined the new Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes, soon renamed Yugoslavia.

Sarajevo and World War II

Bosnian involvement in World War II started when the axis powers invaded the Balkan Peninsula in 1941. Temporarily absorbed into the puppet Croatian fascist state, the city of Sarajevo avoided most of the horrors of the war though Bosnia saw its share of fighting in a three cornered war between fascists, communist partisans and Yugoslav monarchists. The defeat of fascism, and those who died defeating it, are commemorated by an eternal flame outside the Finance Ministry (is it just me, or is that an odd juxtaposition?) We missed it when we walked past on Tuesday (could the ‘Eternal’ Flame have gone out?), but passed it again on Wednesday when we took this photo.

The eternal Flame outside the Finance Ministry

After World War II, Sarajevo carried on quietly as the capital of the Socialist Republic of Bosnia and Herzegovina in Marshall Tito’s Federal People’s Republic of Yugoslavia. A friend who visited in the 1970s was impressed by a multicultural city where everybody seemed to get on so well with everyone else. We know now there were tensions below the surface, but no one would have predicted the horror that was to come.

The Balkans
Bosnia and Herzogivina (May 2012)

Saturday 12 May 2012

Biddulph, The Cloud and Rushton Spencer: Cowpat Walk No. 4

A Circular Walk Around Staffordshire's North East Corner

Staffordshire
Staffordshire Moorlands

With just Francis, Mike and myself available, Cowpat 4 would hardly have been quorate if Francis had not previously walked it with Alison. That walk, on Easter Monday, was in rain and mist, this one was largely in sunshine, but sunshine with very little warmth.

Biddulph Grange Country Park to the Staffordshire Way

We arrived at Biddulph Country Park a little after 9. The sign on the car park gate said it would be unlocked at 7am, the padlock suggested this might not be entirely true. I parked on the road outside.

The gates to the car park were firmly locked

We strolled north up the minor road, turning left where the attractive Mill House sits behind its large pond.

Francis passes Mill House

Ignoring the belligerent goose we turned down what was once, presumably, the mill race. We should have been in the field above, but it was a very pretty path down a steep dingle lined with bluebells.

It may have been pretty, but the path was also muddy, slippery and, occasionally, steep. With my camera in one hand and sunglasses in the other, I descended a particularly precipitous section which seemed to offer four natural steps. The lowest looked like a stone, but had the properties of ice and promptly dumped me in the mud on my backside. My initial attempt at standing was abandoned when I discovered my left hand was lodged on a thistle, but eventually I made it and continued down the path.

A pretty path down a steep dingle...

100m further on I realised I no longer had my sunglasses. I am quite attached to them - they are ‘genuine’ Ray-bans and cost me 120,000 Dong (see Ray-bans in Heathrow and Saigon) – so I retraced my steps. I could not find them at first but after re-climbing the ‘natural steps’ I spotted them in the mud at the bottom. Descending, I again slipped on the bottom step and again crashed onto my arse. This time I avoided the thistle, picked up my glasses and then myself and walked on, bloodied but unbowed. My glasses, on the other hand, were muddied and a little bowed, but I soon straightened them up.

A muddy and slippery path beside the mill race

We climbed the bank onto the correct field path which gave us a view of the remains of Biddulph Old Hall.

Biddulph Old Hall hides in the trees

Descending to the A527, we crossed it and climbed the steps onto the disused railway that runs north from Kidsgrove.

Down to the A527

Following the Staffordshire Way to The Summit of the Cloud

From here to Rushton Spencer we would be on the Staffordshire Way. We walked the entire 93 miles of the Staffordshire Way in 2005/6, and one day, when I have nothing more pressing to blog about, I will post some photos. [That day came during the second Covid lockdown March/April 2021. I posted a 7-part blog of the walk, which starts here.]

Along the disused railway

After a kilometre on the railway, despite being on the Staffordshire Way, we entered Cheshire. The disused railway is not very interesting, but it is flat and has a good surface for walking, so it was another quick kilometre before we turned off towards The Cloud.

Field paths to The Cloud

We approached the hill across field paths and through the Timbersbrook picnic site – devoid of picnickers in the May chill. The ascent starts through a wood on a path with a lot of high steps. This emerges onto a more gently graded bridleway, which we followed briefly before turning up a steeper path with some fine views over the Cheshire Plain, the giant telescope of Jodrell Bank right in the middle of it.

Leaving the bridle way for a steeper path, The Cloud

Continuing with a more gentle climb through Cloud plantation….

Through Cloud Plantation

…we emerged onto the heather covered back of The Cloud’s gritstone cap.

The heather covered gritstone cap, The Cloud

At 343m The Cloud is hardly one of the world’s great mountains, are even a mountain at all, but it does provide some fine views over Rudyard Lake to the south west, the Dane Valley to the west and the Cheshire Plain to the north.

Looking west over the valley of the River Dane

It also has a spot where you can get out of the breeze and drink your coffee.

Coffee stop on The Cloud

The first time I climbed The Cloud, some 15 years ago, I was on my own and I had the whole hill to myself. That same day, 50 people reached the summit of Mount Everest. Sometimes you do not have to go as far as you think to avoid the crowds.

From The Cloud to Rushton Spencer

The Cheshire/Staffordshire boundary runs across the summit of The Cloud. We descended into Staffordshire over field paths, sometimes straight down the field, ….

Descending The Cloud: Straight down a field

…and sometimes across them, offering plenty of opportunities to turn an ankle…

Descending The Cloud: Across a field

… but also some views back to The Cloud.

Looking back at The Cloud

Eventually the path drops into the deep ravine of Ravenscloud Brook, another pretty path among bluebells, but less muddy and slippery.

Bluebells by Ravenscloud Brook

I heard a bird which I took to be a buzzard, but Mike clearly saw an owl sail overhead. By the time Francis and I looked up it had settled in a tree and disappeared.

Mike looks for his owl by Ravenscloud Brook

The brook meets the River Dane, which we followed briefly before joining the second disused railway of the morning….

Approaching our second disused railway of the morning

…though this one was not so pleasant underfoot.

A stonier disused railway

Lunch at The Knot, Rushton Spencer

We soon reached the Knot Inn in Rushton Spencer where a couple of pints of Timothy Taylor’s ‘Landlord’ washed down my excellent turkey and leek pie. The ‘Landlord’ ran out so Mike and Francis had to switch to Adnam’s ‘Broadside’ - no great hardship.

The Knot Inn, Rushton Spencer

From Rushton Spencer back to Biddulph

After lunch we continued a few hundred metres down the railway then forsook the Staffordshire Way and turned west, back towards Biddulph.

After spending the morning climbing to 343m and then descending right down to 159m, the afternoon involved climbing back up to 322m; no wonder my legs were sore the next day.

A short ascent west of Rushton Spencer, was followed by a brief descent and then another climb up to what is described on the map as a ‘cross’, but is actually a large graveyard, still in use, beside what looks like an isolated chapel.

St Lawrence, Rushton Spencer

The 'Chapel in the Wilderness', as it was once called is a medieval wood-frame building rebuilt in sandstone in the 18th century. Until the 19th century Rushton Spencer and surrounding villages formed the 'chapelry of Rushton', the parish church being 5 miles away in Leek. In 1865 it became a parish in its own right and the Chapel in the Wilderness became Ruston Spencer's Parish Church of St Lawrence.

As a parish church it was much closer than Leek,  but it is still far enough away to give a good view back over Rushton Spencer to the hills on the western edge of the Peak District which will feature in Cowpat 5 (Shutlingsloe and Danebridge).

Looking back over Rushton Spencer

We climbed up to Beat Lane, crossed it and then headed down Dingle Lane, the irritating sharp drop to cross Dingle Brook merely increasing the forthcoming climb.

Unlike The Cloud, the grassy bank now separating us from Biddulph had no summit and no pretension about being a mountain; it did not even have a name though the top is only 20m lower than The Cloud. A hard slog through the long grass of the lower slope brought us onto a plateau, after which a slight turn westwards started the second part of the ascent. Trudging upwards without looking at the map I got it into my head that Oxhay Farm was the top of the hill. When we passed the farm buildings I was less than delighted to discover they had been hiding a further 50 m of climbing.

Through the long grass of the lower slopes

Once at the top, we followed the minor road along the ridge for a few hundred metres before again turning west with the knowledge that it was all downhill from here.

Mike negotiates a thin style near Oxhay Farm

Some of the field paths were very wet, others were churned by cattle and some were both, but generally it was fairly easy going. At one farm we followed the diverted path around the buildings, crossing the drive just as the owner drove down it in his Ferrari. We probably stared a little - the upland farmer’s usual vehicle of choice is a battered Land Rover.

The driver stopped and politely enquired if we knew where we were and where we were going. We assured him we did. He may have been concerned for our welfare, but more likely he was checking that we were what we seemed to be (and indeed we were) and not thieves intent on sharing his undoubted wealth. Reassured, he drove off. The Ferrari swiftly disappeared from view, but lingered rather longer on the ear.

Further down, we passed the rocky outcrop by Troughstone Farm and Francis chose exactly the right moment to turn left, though the crossing path was unmarked. Earlier he had protested that accurate navigating and Adnam’s Broadside do not mix - he had underrated himself.

Rocky outcrop above Troughstone Farm

We continued working our way downwards via a minor road and more field paths until eventually a muddy sunken lane brought us out on another minor road. A final field path brought us back to the road up to Biddulph Country Park.

A muddy sunken lane

By now the gates had been unlocked and the car park was three quarters full. My car looked lonely and out of place on the road outside.

Approx distance: 18 km

Saturday 5 May 2012

Churches that Tell Stories in Russia, India, Vietnam, Portugal and the UK

Stories of Colonialism, Repression, a Long Christian Tradition, Natural Disaster, Commercial Exploitation and the Continuity of a Sacred Site

This post is an improved amalgamation of two older posts 'Three Favourite Churches' and...wait for it....'Three More Favourite Churches' - such originality.

Unlike Lynne, I am not a believer, but I am interested in religion and I do like churches. I like the architecture, I like the history they contain and the sense of community they embody. Building a church is somebody’s attempt at the sublime, sometimes for the greater glory of god, sometimes for the greater glory of themselves.

The six churches in this post all have stories to tell. and they are very different stories. From west to east they tell of colonialism, repression, an ancient Christian tradition in a place some find surprising, surviving natural disasters, commercial exploitation and the adaption of ancient sacred sites.

Colonialism

The Church of Giang Ta Chai, Lao Cai Province, Vietnam

The French ruled Indo-China for over a hundred years before independence in 1954 so it is unsurprising that there are many Vietnamese Christians – more specifically Catholics - and for a time, after independence and partition, there was a ruling Catholic elite in South Vietnam. Most Christians live in the urban centres; there are few churches in the countryside and they are particularly rare in ethnic minority villages in the northern highlands.

I cannot describe this church as 'sombody's attempt at the sublime', but it possibly has a rustic charm. It does not look like a Catholic Church, maybe it is an evangelical church, the work of more recent missionaries - a modern form of colonialism.

The Church of Giang Ta Chai, Northern Highlands, Vietnam

We passed the church of Giang Ta Chai, whilst trekking through the Muong Hao Valley in 2011. A village of the Hmong ethnic group, it has twenty Christian families. The photograph was taken in late March but the banner translates as The Church of Giang Ta Chai, Happy Christmas.

Repression

Cathedral of the Epiphany, Irkutsk, Russia

Cathedral of the Epiphany, Irkutsk

At the start of the 20th century the Siberian city of Irkutsk had two cathedrals and two other major churches clustered round one square. A decade of civil war and sixty years of communism saw them all either destroyed or converted to other uses. Since 1990 the Russian Orthodox Cathedral of the Epiphany has been reconsecrated, restored and repainted. Resembling an elaborate birthday cake it raises a smile in an otherwise rather dour city.

A Little Known but Ancient Christian Tradition

St Mary's, Thalassery, Kerala, India

Christianity is a minority religion in India, practised by only 2.3% of the population - but that is still 30 million people! In the 16th century Portuguese Catholic missionaries claimed many converts, paricularly in Goa while in the 18th century Protestant British and US missionaries worked in the north-east

St Mary's, Thalassery

22% of India's Christians live in Kerala, India's most southwesterly state, and few of them owe their Christianity to European missionaries. When asked, many Keralan Christians will describe themselves as 'Catholics', but most are not Roman Catholics but Syriac Catholics. According to tradition the church was founded by the apostle St Thomas who came to India about 40 CE and is buried in Chennai (formerly Madras) predating the arrival of European missionaries by more than a thousand years. The church above was photographed in 2010 at Thalassery (formerly Tellicherry) on the Keralan coast. Like Irkusk cathedral it could be mistaken for a birthday cake, but with very different icing; the light in India is different and demands strong colours.

Surviving a Natural Disaster

Igreja Matriz, Estômbar, Algarve, Portugal

Sitting on a low hill between the main N125 and the road to the ‘Slide and Splash’ water park, Estômbar has somehow remained aloof from the development that has gone on all around. Although it is now largely a dormitory village for the nearby city of Portimão, the tides of tourism have washed round the village not over it.

The light is different in Portugal, too. Although cooler than India the Algarve sees more sunshine than anywhere else in Europe and white and silver are the order of the day. Rows of whitewashed houses descend the hill from the central square which is dominated by the gleaming bulk of the Igreja Matriz (Mother Church).

The Igreja Matriz, Estômbar, Algarve, Portugal

Constructed in the late 18th century, a time of great prosperity in Portugal, it looks like a symbol of permanence and stability, but in 1755 a great earthquake and tsunami destroyed 85% of Lisbon's buildings, killing a quarter of its population, and inundating the Algarve. Estômbar's church was destroyed, except for the Manueline doorway, which the builders incorporated into their new church. The Manueline style was peculiar to late 15th and early 16th century Portugal and is exemplified in the Torre de Belem and the Jeronimo Monastry in Lisbon.

Commercial Exploitaton

St Bartholemew's Tong, Shropshire, UK

Built over an earlier Norman church in 1406 and remodelled in 1510, St Bartholomew’s is not an architectural masterpiece, though the octagonal tower is unusual. Much more interesting is the story attached to the church.

St Bartholmew's, Tong

Charles Dickens knew Tong well; his grandmother had been housekeeper at Tong Castle (the site now lies beneath the M54). The death of Little Nell in The Old Curiosity Shop was set in Tong and she was buried in a fictionalised version of St Bartholomew’s. The book's enormous popularity and Dickens' lecture tours in America, led to a spate of Americans coming to England to visit scenes featured in the story. Seeing an opportunity George Boden (or Bowden), the parish clerk, forged an entry in the parish register of burials, had a gravestone carved and charged visitors to see the grave of Little Nell. It did not seem to worry the visitors – and it certainly never worried George – that they were paying money to see the ‘real’ grave of a fictional character.

Ancient Sacred Site

St Margaret's, Bagendon, Gloucestershire, UK

St Margaret's, Bagendon

One of the delights of the Cotswolds is the way buildings can be so much part of the landscape they seem to have grown organically from it. The tiny church at Bagendon is a perfect example, and also an embodiment of two thousand years of Cotswold history. Although the earliest parts of the building are Saxon, Roman votive artefacts have been found in the churchyard suggesting the site was of religious significance in pre-Christian times. The tower is Norman, but the nave was rebuilt in the late fourteen hundreds. The enormous wealth brought to the Cotswolds by the wool trade at that time resulted in many churches receiving a Perpendicular Gothic makeover. Nineteenth century restorations and the addition of a porch in the 1960s were done so sympathetically it is hard to tell what is new.

see also...............