Chora takes its name from an old Greek word for country — it once stood in the fields beyond Constantine's first walls, before the growing city reached out to meet it. The church you see now is mostly the gift of one man: Theodore Metochites, a scholar and treasurer of a shrinking Byzantine state, who poured a fortune into rebuilding it around 1315. What he bought was the last great flowering of Byzantine art. Every surface of the two entrance halls was sheathed in gold-ground mosaic, and a side burial chapel was painted from floor to vault.
Inside, the ceilings still shimmer — the childhood of Christ and the life of the Virgin told scene by scene in glass and gold, small figures moving through blue hills and tilted buildings. In the funerary chapel, the Anastasis fills the apse: Christ hauls Adam and Eve bodily from their tombs while the broken gates of hell lie scattered under his feet. Metochites himself kneels above a doorway, offering a model of his church, a vast striped hat on his head. Plastered over when the Ottomans turned it into a mosque, uncovered again as a museum, the building holds prayers once more today.