In honor of our brother-in-law Stephen who is married to my youngest sister Cyndi, we're determined to visit St. Stephen's Cathedral in Passau, Germany, named after St. Stephen, a Christian martyr who was stoned to death. Even though we're not fans of organ music, when you have the opportunity to hear one of the world's largest pipe organs with 17,774 pipes--you listen. St. Stephen's Cathedral dates back to the 17th century where it underwent a reconstruction after it almost burned to the ground. Formerly it was constructed in the Gothic style. The renovation introduced the grand Baroque style. Think fancy and gold. Think bling.
"Are you excited to see the inside of the church?" I ask Theo.
No. The answer is no. As we trudge closer and closer to St. Stephen's, Theo finds every excuse to delay. He is interested in every bird he spots along the way and wants to investigate. Because he is a cat.
He spots a squirrel, and he needs to investigate him also.
Then he's starving. He needs a snack. We have to stop and pull out some of our dried cat food we keep on hand, just in case. I expect him to scarf it down, but instead he eats each morsel carefully and slowly.
"I know what you're doing, Theo. Speed it up." He doesn't.
Then we're on the move again. I point out some highlights of the city. I love to capture those special bits that make the city unusual, different, that remind us that in these old places they used to put angel statues on building walls.
We follow a brightly colored stone path that leads to the artist's quarter:
We see a bat suspended from a building in an alley and a king with a scepter on the wall of another building:
We pass a beautifully decorated clock tower and then a mosaic of three lions holding up a drawing of another lion.
Finally we reach the cathedral and take a minute to admire the odd style with its quirky decorations.
The cathedral is closed. There is a mass going on and no one (no tourist, they mean) is allowed inside the church.
I can't believe it. These are things beyond our control. I'm shaking my head in frustration when I glance down at Theo. An ugly thought pops into my head.
"What did you do, Theo?"
He looks up at me--all innocence.
I get ahold of myself. Of course, he couldn't have done anything. But he looks so self satisfied, sitting there, staring at the cathedral as if he has performed some miracle, or did he wield some dark magic?
"I'm so disappointed," I say to no one in particular.
But Theo doesn't seem the least bit concerned or disappointed. He wants to eat again.
"Let's go to lunch," Dan suggests.
We are in for the surprise of our lives . . . tune in next week.
