Theo In Bamberg: Is it fish or a Magical Story?

 Who can resist going to Bamberg, Germany? Located on the Regnitz River, it was the center of the German Enlightenment Period and home to Hegel, a great German philosopher. It is known for colorful timbered houses that date from the 11th to other 19th century, medieval streets that give you a good idea of the layout of a town back then, and a magnificent Cathedral. As we walk around, I try to capture in photos the uniqueness of the houses, the cathedral, the square in front of the cathedral where Germans today hold their annual Christmas market, the famous Rose Garden:

On top of one of the bridges, I capture a panoramic view of the town:

I drag Theo and Dan inside the cathedral. I'm always impressed with the Gothic architecture--the sheer immenseness of size, the statues, the paintings, especially when you contrast it with the poverty that existed for most people who lived in medieval times.

Theo has been remarkably behaved during this entire period. It's almost as if he's in a kind of trance, sniffing the grounds (really loving the rose garden) but tolerating everything else.

Even when I suggest we stop in the museum near the cathedral. I want to point out two more things--an imperial crown and a pair of shoes. Again the contrast.

When you travel with a gangster cat, you have to keep things moving. He can only take so many cathedrals and museums before his little head threatens to explode. 

We leave the museum, and Dan mentions how remarkable it is that the city was spared the worst of the bombing and possible destruction during World War II. I know what's coming.

"Theo, pay close attention to this story."

He gazes up at me. I can see from the look in his eye that he is now thinking of only one thing--lunch. He's hungry. One thing about cats--they have this uncanny internal time clock inside which dictates when they have to eat or else . . .

"Mom, I'm hungry now."

"You can wait five minutes."

He shakes is head with a vehemence I seldom see.

It's time for compromise. Dan agrees to tell the story en route to the restaurant where we promise to order fish.

"Bamberg was supposed to be bombed, but a sudden fog descended on the city, and the bombers were forced to drop their bombs on Wurzburg. Where did the fog come from? Was it the whim of Mother Nature? The locals believe that Queen Kunigunden saved them. She was born in 975, was the empress consort of Holy Roman Emperor Henry II, and for years they ruled the city together. Later she became the revered saint of Bamberg. On that fateful night, the local believe, she spread her cloak over the city and saved it. She is buried in the cathedral."

We arrive at the restaurant, are seated but it isn't until Theo is munching on his trout meunière that he finally concedes it's a great story. 

"How's the trout?" Dan asks.

We look down and Theo has eaten every morsel, but like a true German, he loves a good story almost as much as he loves his fish.  

Theo and the Angel's Leg in Bamberg

 Why do people travel? What is it that they're really looking for? Dan, Theo and I decide to stop in the historic city of Bamberg, Germany, not because it is a UNESCO world heritage site, not because it has some of the greatest examples of medieval architecture in the old part of the town which can make you imagine you've stepped back in time, and not because they brew a concoction of "smoked beer"--all of those would be good reasons. No. I push Dan and Theo to stop in Bamberg because of an angel's leg. A memory I have that haunts me from when I first saw Bamberg years ago.

Let me start from the beginning. Walk through Bamberg and you are immediately struck by its location near a river and the wide variety of houses. They are different than houses in the states. The architecture is old and at times amazingly quaint. They are the kinds of houses you want to see the inside of--the rooms, the furniture.

We walk along a river and I can't resist taking a video of the houses that butt up against the water.

We enter the old town. Statues sit on buildings above doorways:

Or they are just there as you walk along a bridge:

But the most amazing site is that some of the buildings in the old town are decorated with murals that tell a story. I have never seen anything like it. As we pass building after building, sporting angel murals, I am getting more excited because I know the angel leg is close:

Theo, who is usually pretty easy going (as long as there are snacks in the picture) balks. He lets out a big meow as we are going up one street and down another.

"Believe me, Theo, the angel leg is sticking out of a building. You will love it."

Theo knows about angels (no, not from church) but from our Christmas tree which has an angel sitting on top of it every year. He's 

been an eyewitness to Mico (his younger brother) racing across the living room and toppling the angel off her perch. 

But angels on buildings? I don't think he believes me.

Dan is also skeptical. "Do you really think a mural of an angel is all that exciting?"

"Trust me, boys. You've never seen anything quite like this before."

All I remember from the trip years ago is that you have to cross over a bridge so when I spot a bridge, we walk in that direction. From a distance I think I see it:

I walk faster and Dan shouts out, "I see it. I see it."

Impressive as it is, it is not what I want and need to see. "Does that look like an angel's leg to you? That's an entire baby angel."

And then I do see it. The angel leg I've been looking for. "There it is."

It is unusual. Half mural/half statue. A little freaky. "Well," I say in triumph. "Am I right? Isn't this the craziest thing you ever saw on a wall of a building?"

Dan holds Theo up so he can get a better look. 

No comment. Not even a meow.

I turn to Dan. 

No comment. 

"A bust?" I ask incredulously.

"Let's go eat," Dan says. Who can argue with that?

Theo and the Mechanical Clock

 Nuremberg turns out to be very different from what we imagine. You think Nuremberg trials, World War II. You think Zeppelin Field and Nazi propaganda. If you're a real history buff, you realize the critical part Nuremberg played in the Roman Empire.

For Theo, the piece of Nuremberg that captures his attention is the mechanical clock that is part of a 14th century Gothic Church called the Church of our Lady (Frauenkirhen in German) in the Market Square. We arrive there around noon because that's when the excitement begins. The mechanical clock literally comes to life and for several minutes puts on a show. A procession of prince-electors circle a figure of the emperor, Holy Roman Emperor Charles IV. This show commemorates the Golden Bull of 1356, a constitutional document of the Holy Roman Empire. The clock was installed between 1506-1509.

Trumpets on either side of a little door begin playing, announcing the start of the show. Someone tinkles a bell. A little door opens, players come out and circle around--called the running men--and you are transported back to a world before television and computers, radios and airplanes.

Theo is more than mesmerized. Dan holds him up so he can see better. I begin to take the video. The crowd hushes to silence for a split second. We wait. The show begins slow with a preamble of sorts and you have to strain to hear the bell tinkling and soldiers marching over the murmur of the crowd. Part 1:

Clock Tower Show Part 1

My arm is killing me. I stop recording for a moment but Theo, ever anxious to capture the entire show, gives me the evil eye. Okay. Okay. I start up the video again to capture the second half. 

Clock Tower Show Part 2

Theo is crushed when it is over, but later that night, back in our room after an exhausting day, we show Theo the two videos. This is why the gangster cat likes to travel--he snacks at all times of the day and sometimes there are mechanical clocks that harken back to the past.