Earthquakes and Sophia Loren in Puzzuoli

 I am old enough to remember Sophia Loren when she was super famous in Hollywood. Her beautiful face, her sultry air, her marriage to Carlo Ponti. Many years later, quite by chance, I saw her standing outside of The Strand Bookstore in New York City. No makeup. She was still beautiful. And taller than I expected.

Not many people know but she was born and lived in the tiny town of Puzzuoli, Italy, with her mother, her grandparents, an aunt and two uncles during World War II.  Puzzuoli is famous because it is built on top of one of the most active, yet hidden, supervolcanos--the Campi Flegrei. "Campi" means "fields." "Flegrei" means "on fire." The land is never still and constantly moves up and down. 

In fact during the 16th century, in 1538, the earth cracked open and lava shot out. A 430 foot mountain was formed in one night. Literally, people went to sleep with no mountain and woke up the next morning with a mountain. 

Recently Puzzuoli suffered another earthquake, which closed down an archaeological dig. The Italians have been in the process of restoring the Flavian Amphitheater, the third largest Roman amphitheater in Italy. Experts believe that this amphitheater was built by the same architects who built the Roman Colosseum. We came to Puzzuoli to see it. We try to convince the gatekeepers to let us in, just for a peek, but no go. It is too dangerous. Too volatile.

Instead we spend the morning traipsing around another site--Ambulatio Villa, an ancient ruin that dates back to the first century AD.  At first, the experts thought the ruins were thermal baths, but as they excavated more of the area, they realized the ruins were a typical Roman villa, the home of some mega wealthy people. Like other villas, the structure was on the side of a hill, on six different levels or terraces, that cascade to the sea. 

I often have difficulty making sense of any ruins, but archaelogists insist they can tell a lot about how people lived 2400 years ago by analyzing what is left behind.

This is what I see:

A large complex made of stone with multiple staircases that connect the various levels.

I see some exquisite mosaics on the floor that are still there:

I see the remnants of frescoes that decorated the walls of the villa. Some even still have evidence of color:

What I'm most impressed by, however, is the evidence of a communal bathroom with running water. Who knew?

One of the things you realize is how connected ancient people were to nature. The ruins evidence patios and outside porticos. The Romans loved to bathe in the sea. There were gardens with vegetables and flowers. 

And what is Theo looking at? First he becomes particularly interested in a statue of one of the Roman Gods. Does he think the naked man is real? Theo dutifully goes over and sniffs the base but soon loses interest.

Then Theo spots the most incredible sight: a tree is growing upside down, hanging from the ceiling. I have no explanation for how that is possible. It just is. 

Theo can't wait to go over and investigate. He tries to squeeze himself between the rungs of the barrier that is there to keep people and cats away from the tree. It is a tight squeeze. Theo has imbibed a lot more snacks lately. He manages to get about half way through, but he gets stuck, half in and half out.

"Should we help him?" I ask Dan.

"Theo, it's too tight. Try and back out."

Using his back paws, he jerks his body backward. Slowly, he extricates himself from the barrier trap. He walks around in a few circles as if he's considering his next move. 

I want to say--it's not worth it, but before I can say a word, he stares at that tree, begins pumping and I know what is about to happen--he takes a flying leap over the barrier and ends up on the other side.

"Theo, this is a protected site. Don't do anything . . ."

Theo has a one track mind. He disappears under the tree for what seems like hours (truthfully it is only minutes) and when he emerges, if he had the proper face muscles, he would be wearing a smile. 

"What were you doing under there?"

Ignoring my question, Theo leaps back over the barrier and stands beside his beleaguered parents looking totally innocent.

"Theo."

"I had to do it, see?"

“You’re becoming more like a teenager everyday.”

He shrugs.

And that’s not a good thing. 

 

 

Theo Teeter Totters in Gaeta

 When I first visited Italy, I went to all the hotspots--Rome, Florence and Venice. The Vatican to see Michelangelo's Pieta. The Galleria dell'Academia to see the David. You get the idea. And always I battled tourists, usually too many people crowded into too tiny a space.

Now years later we choose places with fewer tourists and more locals. We practice speaking Italian. That's why we decide to cruise down the southern coast of Italy with a small group of people and stop at Gaeta, a smaller lesser known Italian town.

But no one comes to Italy and doesn't eat. Restaurants and trattorias and bars and/or cooperatives and even the local supermarket will offer prepared food. The choices are endless . . . but we decide to stop at an agriturisimo--a family owned farmhouse that offers good food from local sources (often from their own fields) and if you want, a place to stay. Agriturisimos are located most often in the country so you also get a terrific view. 

The food is simple and fresh. Wine is plentiful. The service is friendly. It is a good choice if you are visiting Italy and want to avoid the tourist spots, and we simply love this agriturismo. 

They are family oriented.

No, these are not children on the teeter totter. We stare in envy as this young at heart couple go up and down. Theo is watching them, too.

When Theo issues a meow and wears that hangdog expression on his face, I know Theo wants to teeter totter, too.

"Okay, we'll do it."

 

Never easy. Dan climbs on his seat, and Theo jumps up on his seat on the other side. Of course, he has to sniff everything first, but his balance is pretty good. Tentatively they go up and down. Up and down. Everything is teeter tottering just fine, until it isn't. 

Theo spots a small squirrel lurking near the swings. With no warning, he jumps off his seat and well, you know what happens. As Theo later admits, he underestimated the force of gravity. Dan limps off his seat.

When we finally arrive in Gaeta, we are exhausted. So our first view of this beautiful town, called the "city of a hundred churches" is after the sun goes down. Theo is restless, but luckily falls asleep when we're ready to so outside for a walk. Or so we think . . .

We spot a big moon sitting in the sky and Dan captures it. 

"Can you believe we're here?" I ask him.

"I know, right?"

We hear a meow. And Theo, as if he's fallen straight from the sky, is standing right behind us. Stalking us?

"What are you doing here? After what you did this afternoon to dad on the teeter totter . . ."

Theo shrugs. "I had to do it, see?"

Always a gangster cat, right to the end. 

A Rascally Hero in the Cemetery

 I love cemeteries. They not only make me feel peaceful, but I have to admit, I feel a bit in awe to be among people who used to live on this earth--sometimes hundreds of years ago--and now they're in their final resting place.

A few years ago I learned an interesting fact. When American soldiers fight overseas in foreign lands, and they are killed, their families have to make a choice--to have the soldier's body shipped back to the USA or have them buried with their fellow soldiers in an American cemetery, close to where they died. Many families choose an American cemetery overseas, and as a result throughout the world, there are American cemeteries that hold our fallen.

If you're a fan of World War II, like I am, you probably know that Allied forces fought several battles to drive the Germans out of Italy and liberate Rome. One battle (approximately 35 miles south of Rome) was fought at Anzio. Other battles were fought in Sicily. 

The Sicily-Rome American Cemetery and Memorial is one of two permanent WWII American cemeteries in Italy. It holds 7,860 headstones of American soldiers who died in the battles which were fought. A chapel has the names engraved of 3,095 who went missing. 

The battles began on July 10, 1943 and ended when Rome was liberated on June 4, 1944. The cemetery contains 7,738 Latin crosses made of Lasa marble and 122 Stars of David.

Contrary to what you might expect, these cemeteries are beautiful. The lawns are perfectly manicured. There is always a fountain or pool. There is a chapel and a visitor center. 

I have no idea how Theo will react when we arrive. I imagine he'll want to run in the grass. Bask in the sun. Watch the water cascade down in the North garden fountain. Feel the wind caress his face. Will he understand where we are? 

We want to see all 77 acres. It's hard to arrive and see all the crosses perfectly lined up on the grounds, knowing each cross represents a person who left their home, was part of a battle, but never believed they would end of here. Most still had the greater part of their lives in front of them. Most had family that mourned when they didn't return. 

We walk around the grounds. We see the beautiful pool of water. 

We visit the chapel and read through some of the names that are engraved. We marvel at the ornate ceiling.

  

"Theo, there's something else we need to do."

Part of the tradition is to leave a flower near one of the crosses as a sign of remembrance and respect. I explain this to Theo and we walk through the crosses in one section. I am ready to lay the flower on one of the crosses dedicated to an unknown soldier. As the engraving reads, "he's known only to God."  But as I move closer, Theo stops me. 

"It's something I have to do," he meows.

I put the flower in his mouth, and he drops it slowly in front of the cross. 

I have to admit I underestimate the kid too often. But he's well aware of the concept of fighting and territory. As a cat, he fiercely guards the land that surrounds our house. Other cats are not welcome. Other animals are barely tolerated. Birds and squirrels--he's fascinated but usually wants them gone.

"Chucky would be proud of you, Theo." And then I give him a snack. After all, he's only a cat.

Theo is taking a much needed two week break from being the star. He will be relaxing at home with Sienna and Mico. Our next blog will be posted on October 29! See you then. Meow. 

Elephants in Rome?

 I do a lot of international traveling. I've been to China, Kenya, Spain, Portugal, France, Great Britain, Ireland, Switzerland, Sweden, Denmark, Austria, Germany, the Netherlands . . . and, of course, Italy.  My favorite city is Rome. And one of my favorite things to do in Rome, besides eat, is walk around. See the sights. The city is both ancient and new, sunny and then lit up at night. It is magical.

I am the official tour guide. Dan is my steady backup. Theo is the reluctant tourist. This morning and afternoon, we decide to walk through the heart of Rome and play I Spy.

If you come to Rome, you will spy . . .

Piazzas or town squares, usually surrounding a monument, a fountain or an obelisk. This morning I spy an obelisk with the Virgin Mary sitting on the top, wearing a crown: 

Shopping streets or plazas or malls. This morning we cut through one of the most elegant malls you'll ever see:

Ancient buildings with Roman columns puckered with tiny holes that  are left over from where the Romans attached marble to the drab brick and mortar columns. Imagine what marble columns would have looked like!

A church with a cupola across from a cocktail bar and another church with a spire and a cross:

The Tiber River separating Rome from Vatican City: 

I think of where I live. There is nothing as old or elegant as this. In Rome everywhere you look, there is something from the past. 

Theo is remarkably well behaved. He is sauntering along, sniffing everything. If he could write or even dictate his meows into a recorder, the history he'd be able to describe . . . imagine . . . a dog from the three years ago passed by here and took a whiz. A squirrel dropped down from the elm tree over there and discovered a nut he'd buried in the ground from the year before. A horse clopped by here and ate an apple while he rested in the shade. 

"Are you having a good time, Theo?" 

Today is a beautiful day in Rome with clouds and sun and a soft breeze that flutters by. Every once in a while, we stoop down and let him lick a Churo, tuna flavored, which is his favorite. 

The gangster cat shrugs. "I can smell an elephant."

An elephant? Is Theo joking?

In 1962 the Italians discovered elephant bones while they were laying cable lines at the Vatican. It seems the Pope Leo X had a pet elephant--a gift from the King of Portugal. The pope loved his elephant and even had him buried near him when he died. 

Julius Caesar gained part of his reputation when he killed an elephant in battle. He often used an elephant to crush his enemies.

Elephants were brought in as part of the shows at the Colosseum.

And elephants were quite common in Rome during the Renaissance period. 

"Theo, you're a wonder."

Or, maybe he's watching a little too much of the History Channel.

Theo's Revenge at the Vittoriano

 Rome is my favorite city. It is filled with monuments, statues, fountains, gardens, parks, squares and rife with a history that precedes the gladiators in the Colosseum, the poets near the Spanish Steps, and the Vatican. There is so much to see as a visitor you sometimes miss the little details, the ornate and symbolic flourishes, that decorate the scenery. 

I am determined to bring Theo to see one of Rome's most famous monuments, nicknamed the Vittoriano, the symbolic center of Rome. It was built to honor Italy's first King--Victor Emmanuel II--who reigned after Italy was unified into a country. Unfortunately, his grandson, Victor Emmanuel III, who ruled Italy from 1900 until 1946 has a checkered reputation--responsible for bringing democratic reforms to Italy, but then later also responsible for empowering Mussolini to enter WWII. 

Nevertheless, the monument honors Italy's first King and does so much more. As a modern forum or public square, it contains stairways, columns, fountains, statues and views. It is seen as a kind of secular temple consecrated to Italy. It sits atop Capitoline Hill, near the ancient Roman Forum and Colosseum, and it is where most of the most important national celebrations in Italy today are held. 

"You must see the Vittoriano," everyone says. "The wedding cake." Because it looks like one.

I look at Theo. "We have to see the Vittoriano."

The gangster cat doesn't miss any chance to negotiate. "What's in it for me?"

"Snacks."

Theo clearly doesn't want to go. But the idea of snacks is a powerful draw. "For a little while," he concedes.

We arrive on foot after a delicious lunch. Dan is holding Theo because we've been walking so many steps, we're afraid the kid (with the short legs) will pass out. 

He's remarkably well behaved at first. He seems to be genuinely interested in what we're looking at. Of course, we're plying him with croccantini (dry cat food), Temptations (which we keep in small ziplock baggies) and Churos whenever we stop to admire something. 

Dan puts him down. The monument isn't crowded. Most visitors seem to be Italians who are milling about on their lunch hour. They gingerly step over or step to the side when they see Theo. No one bats an eye. 

This monument is a big place, and I have to admit, I'm overwhelmed by the grandeur of it all. There are statues galore on top of the roof.

I angle in for a closer look.

 

 

I'm overwhelmed when--caught against the backdrop of the bluest of skies--an angel flies into view.

We are climbing up and down stairs and around corners, as we survey this monument. 

"Look, Theo." I'm pointing to a statue of a woman holding a spear. I have no idea who she is but she looks majestic.

At this point I don't know if Theo's looking or not, but I suspect not. Whenever I look down, he's eating a snack or licking a Churu. 

I hear in the distance Dan announce, "Well, that's it, buddy. We're all out of snacks." But I'm honestly not paying too much attention because another statue comes into view.

Then I hear what I never want to hear. Dan calling,"Theo, Theo."

I look around. Look down. The one thing you don't want to have happen is to lose a cat in the middle of Rome. A cat who doesn't speak a word of Italian. A cat who seems at this moment only motivated by snacks.  Snacks we don't have anymore. 

We have nothing to lure him out of wherever he is. 

"He can't have gone that far," I say to Dan, but I say it more for myself.

"He was here a minute a go," Dan agrees.

"Where would he go?" I ask aloud because Theo is not your usual cat. He doesn't wander off unless he's hungry. In fact . . . I turn to Dan with a sudden brainstorm. "He's probably stuffed himself with snacks and now . . ."

Dan takes the words out of my mouth. "He's taking a nap."

"But where?"

A larger than life statue sits about fifty yards in front of us. "You don't think . . ." I point to what would be the purrfect spot for an irritated cat to get away and do what he wants--sleep.

Dan rushes over. He's shaking his head and then motions me over. 

Theo has cozied up to the guy holding a cornucopia. There's a space right behind his leg. Cool marble. Out of the sun. Full belly.

Dan scoops him up.  "Come on, Theo."

"The next time . . . " I start to say. 

"Let him be. He made his point."

"Or took his revenge," I think. But with Theo you learn to reframe the situation. He could have run up the stairs. Or could have been scooped up by an unsuspecting Italian thinking he was a well-behaved cat. Or gone somewhere looking for a gelato.

"It's time to go home," Dan says.

Theo nods.

I agree. "But let's stop for some gelato first."

Theo As A Gladiator in the Colosseum?

Whenever I hear someone refer to the Colosseum in Rome, I immediately think of gladiators--well, actually one gladiator in particular, Russell Crowe, who starred in The Gladiators. He was a fictional character, for sure, but he somehow captured the over the top kind of hero who participated in games and shows that were put on for the Roman people thousands of years ago. 

The Colosseo, the Italian name, is so much more than gladiators, but try telling that to Theo. He comes to Italy ready, willing, and able to be a gladiator. 

"Theo," I explain, "forget about being a gladiator. Just look around. This ruin is the place to be back in the day. We're talking 70 AD when it's built by an Emperor for the Roman people. It takes 10 years to build. When it opens, the Colosseum features 100 days of games, wild animal fights, and, of course, gladiatorial combat, and in the beginning--even naval battles. For four centuries it's like our Madison Square Garden. By the 18th century, it falls into disrepair and is scavenged by those same Roman people for building materials. About one third of it remains today. But, still, it is glorious. And big. That's why we're here. To be a part of history."

 

Dan has to hold Theo, or he will be trampled by all the tourists. First, we walk, like sardines in a can, through the large hall that the Romans would have entered to reach the arena. There are then smaller hallways that lead to the center arena. This is what we want to see. This is what Theo wants to see. 

I take a video, attempting to capture what the arena looks like in all its massive wonder. You can see where the people would have sat. You can see the arena, which is now missing a floor, but without a floor, you can see below to the lower level. 

The gladiators, the wild animals, and all the accoutrements that made the show the SHOW, came in from the ground level and were brought up using freight elevators using a complex system of winches. You can also see the large arches, some still there, which was the entrance way for the crowds:

Admission was free. Spectators, according to social class, came through 76 arches, labeled with red numbers. Today you can still see number 29. The seats in the arena were arranged in a strict order--the best ones, close to the arena, were reserved for the senators.  The worst ones had a poor view and were hard to get to:

I point to the very top. "That's where you would have sat, Theo."

Theo shakes his head. He sees himself in the center arena. He sees himself as a gladiator. Sword in paw. Fighting the good fight. The crowd cheering. He sees himself as being victorious and, perhaps, being recognized by the Emperor. Given special snacks. And a nice comfy bed to sleep on at night. He sees himself as being the most famous gladiator in the world.

Theo's eyes have glazed over. I know he's imagining himself there. 

"Snap out of it." I shake him, and he comes back to reality. "The truth is--you'll never be as famous as Russell Crowe." 

Cats can't frown, but they can give the evil eye. Theo's not ready to give up his dream, yet. We saunter around the Colosseum, go through the smaller arches and get closer to the main arena.

There is a lot more to see. Most people see the Colosseum as just an arena, but the place was also an open air market. It sold food and all kinds of wares. Today, you can still see the stalls and hundreds of exhibits showcasing the way the Colosseum used to look, including the clothing that people wore back then and pieces of the Colosseum itself that evidence the intricate designs: 

"Well, what do you think? Do you like seeing the Colosseum? The arena?" I ask Theo.

He tilts his head as if considering the question. Frankly, it's an easy question. Seeing the Colosseum is on Theo's bucket list. Being a gladiator--priceless. 

Finally, the gangster cat, gives me a paw up. Theo likes it!!