Nicaea is now known to us only as a name, a somewhat illusionary place connected with synods, bishops and councils of the Church and, more usually, with the creed which takes its name from it. But in reality it is more than a name. Some fifty miles from Brusa, or a good day's journey from Constantinople with the aid of all the conveniences of modern travel, what remains of this city that was once so important stands on the borders of the lake of Isnic. To reach it several ranges of hills have to be crossed by the worst of roads, intended only for the old Turkish araba or high carriage but now gaily used by motors and lorries. But the country is delightful and the view from the various foot-hills which surround Mount Olympus is superb. These hills, together with those of a second range further to the north, hem in the lake and so afford a natural protection for the town on its eastern shore, the walls of which can just be distinguished from the hills as brown patches amongst the exuberant green of the coastal fringe.

The reconstructed trireme (Coates & Morrison 1987; March issue, 87–90) was launched in the Aegean this summer. Here is the first first-hand report for many centuries as to how a great classical Greek warship actually rows and sails.

The study of Roman urban centres in Portugal (ancient Lusitania) is now well developed, but the rural landscape has remained little known. A new collaborative European project (Friedrich-Schiller-Universität Jena, Johann-Wolfgang-Goethe-Universität Frankfud/Main, National University of Ireland Galway and University College Dublin) is investigating the rural landscape and its economy — with the support of the Fritz Thyssen Foundation Cologne and the Instituto Portugues do Patrimonio Arquitectonico — from the Romanization of coast and hinterland, its Christianization and subsequent Islamicization.