From the outside, this doesn't look like a place of worship. The small, corrugated iron hut is pretty anonymous but the crucifix on the door marks it as special. Inside the drab exterior there is an ornate world of wonder. Simple wooden pews face a beautifully decorated altar. There are religious statues on both sides and numerous brightly-coloured ornaments. If you look closely you can see that they’re hand-made, the best example being the Blue Peter-style chandelier made from tinsel and coathangers, still going strong after 60 years service.

This chapel was built by Ukrainian prisoners of war who were sent here in 1947. Between 420 and 450 men were imprisoned in Rimini and sent to Scotland instead of being sent home where they would have been tried as traitors and faced almost certain death. They arrived in Glasgow wearing German uniforms, and came to Happendon Lodge near Motherwell, then Carstairs before landing up in the camp at Hallmuir, 3 miles outside Lockerbie in the Scottish Borders.

90% of the men were farmers so the Ministry of Agriculture gave them jobs on the local land. One man, Mr Fallat, bought some fruit seeds from Italy and planted an orchard that still stands to this day. Inside the church they were just as creative. The landowner, Sir John Buchanan Jardine gave them this small hut and after humble beginnings they began to decorate it as a home from home. On the high altar is a model of their local Ukranian cathedral, carved with a pen knife. It was made from memory as the Russians destroyed the real one. The candlesticks beside it are made from shell casings and the standards surrounding the arch from a tent brought over from Rimini. For a place decorated in a time of austerity it's wonderfully cheerful.

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Posted by Anne on November 21, 2007 | Permalink | Comments (2)

Even some of the most experienced south Londoners will furrow their brows and scan their mental A-Z’s in vain when you mention a visit to Nunhead. Despite being firmly lodged in zone 2 the area possesses a spymaster’s flair for anonymity. Perhaps its low profile can be ascribed to the Post office decision in the early twentieth century to lump Nunhead and Peckham together within the SE15 postcode. Ever since being made GPO bedfellows, Nunhead has played the poor relation to its neighbour and the crisis of identity was only exacerbated when Del Boy and his three-wheeler stamped an indelible mark on the nation’s popular consciousness. But while Peckham revels in notoriety, Nunhead possesses at least one very good reason why you should make tracks to this overlooked corner of the capital. Tucked away among the ordinary terraced side streets is perhaps the greatest of all London’s nineteenth century cemeteries, a true hidden gem, which the more discerning visitor will be just dying to visit.

From the outside, the front entrance to Nunhead cemetery exudes the sort of gothic menace which would excite the location finder for any Hammer House of Horror film production. The drama of the huge iron gates hanging from towering stone columns is heightened by their recessed location from the main road. It’s easy to imagine long faced Dickensian undertakers arriving atop a jet black carriage, pulled by plumed horses the colour of midnight. This monumental entrance is the meeting point for the vast ten foot high wall which encloses some 52 acres of gravestones. The gates revel in the insignia of death featuring badges depicting an emptied hour glass flanked by wings of a feathered angel, and more ominously, a skeletal demon. Similarly the stonework is decorated with down turned torches, the life of their flames permanently extinguished. It’s fair to say that this exterior possesses sufficient creepiness to encourage the casual passer-by to consider crossing the road even in the full glare of daylight. But if the outside alone is liable to unnerve then perhaps those of a nervous disposition would be advised not to take a stroll inside.

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Posted by Maurice on April 02, 2007 | Permalink

There's nothing unusual about finding a shrine in Bangkok, apart from this one. Instead of the usual Buddhist gods and spirits the Tuptim Shrine (also known as the Lingam Shrine) revolves around something that some might consider quite unholy. Tucked away at the back of the Nai Lert Park Hotel, ignominiously hiding under some trees by the tradesmens' entrance the brightly coloured scarves and offerings beckon you in. In the middle there is a traditional Thai spirit house festooned with gifts and garlands. Nothing unusual there. But on closer inspection the large black pillar beside the spirit house reveals a familiar but unusual shape - a giant penis. And indeed, all around the things that look like little sticks of wood and statues are all the same - loads and loads of penises; all shapes and sizes - fat ones, thin ones, tall ones, small ones, some that even have legs and a tail.

A sign explains:

The origins of Chao Mae Tuptim are obscure. It can only be recalled that a spirit house was built by Nai Lert for the spirit who was believed to reside in the large Sai (Ficus) tree.

The basic offerings are fragrant wreaths of snow-white jasmine flowers, incense sticks, pink and white lotus buds. Chao Mae Tuptim has received yet another, rather unconventional kind of gift, phallic in shape, both small and large, stylised and highly realistic. Over the years they have been brought by the thousands and today fill the area around the shrine. Confronted by the extraordinary display the shrine has automatically been concluded to be decidated to fertility.

The sheer numbers and variety are dazzling. Even the fence around the shrine is made out of little penises all standing to attention. Although the comedy value is high for some, the variety of gifts and offerings show that it's serious to those who come to pray for a family. Bangkok has a reputation for its sexual exploits but this is a peaceful antidote to some of the more in-your-face spectacles on offer in the city.

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Posted by Anne on February 25, 2007 | Permalink | Comments (2)