Theo is Obsessed with Castles in Wertheim

 As we travel around Germany, we get used to visiting towns half new and half old. During World War II, many German towns were bombed and nearly destroyed by the Allies, which meant the Germans needed to rebuild. We get used to leaving modern Germany and moving through a kind of time tunnel back to an earlier time, the way things used to be. We get tiny glimpses of life before the bombing.

Wertheim is not like that, and that's what makes Theo insistent that we stop and visit. It is a small, cozy German town that was never bombed by the Allies during World War II. Dan tells Theo the remarkable story--towards the end of the war, the Americans were stationed outside the city with their guns. They threatened to bomb the town if the people didn't surrender. The Germans had orders never to surrender.

But that day the head German was not in town and one brave soldier decided enough was enough. The war was practically over. He raised the white surrender flag and saved the town.

Theo hears that story and insists we pay the town a visit. Not to see the town itself, but to see the castle. 

"Sure," we agree. "We can see the castle."

But I have other things on my agenda. I'm always fascinated by places where you can glimpse the past. See the way people used to live. See their houses. The streets. And inevitable see the quirky things that make the town so special.

The streets are cobblestone. The houses are the original half-timbered architecture. There is a central plaza where everyone sits outside to enjoy a coffee, a danish or a pretzel. 

We save the castle for last for obvious reasons. As soon as we see it, Theo will insist on going back to the hotel. To relax. To snack. I know this kid by now. We're smarter than the average cat. 

Or so we think!

As we traverse the town, every other meow out of Theo's mouth is he wants to see the castle. Well, the ruins of a castle. You can step back into medieval times and forget that you are in modern times. For Theo, I think it's because he saw something on castles on the History Channel. Besides watching shows about birds and squirrels, quirky historical events are what Theo loves best. 

No cat could do more sniffing. He wanders freely on the grass, sniffs every rock and boulder he can find, jumps up on the stone gate. He's basically having a grand old time. I wonder what piece of history he's tapping into as he sniffs. Knights in shining armor? Damsels in distress? King and queens?

Well, I want to know and ask Theo directly.  "What did you think?

Did you like Wertheim? Aren't you glad you came?"

"I liked the castle."

"That's it?"

Wertheim is an incredibly beautiful place. From the height of the castle, we look down to the valley below. 

Priceless. (At least I think so.)

 

Theo Visits a Medieval Torture Museum

 

Theo is fond of using the word torture. When he wants his snack, and we're not ready to give it, he meows, "It's torture, mom." When Mico steals his favorite spot on the couch, again Theo responds by calling it torture. Somedays he seems to feel his life is, indeed, torturous. If he only knew what real torture is. I get an idea.

Fast forward. We're traveling around Germany and stop in a little town called Rothenburg, known for its medieval charm. After wandering around, we end up in the purrfect place.

Officially the museum is called the Medieval Crime Museum, but it's really all about torture. In the historical legal sense, torture began as part of the criminal system in Europe in the 14th century. When someone was accused of a crime--witchcraft, for example, where there was no proof, a confession brought on by torture was enough.

Public shaming was another kind of torture--chains with scissors attached was hung around the neck of unscrupulous sellers who sold inferior products, masks with chicken feathers were attached to the faces of promiscuous people, etc. Women who gossiped about each other were confined to the public square, one woman's wrists inserted in one side of a cruel wooden device, the other woman's wrists inserted into the other side. Others could see what they've done.

Once through the doors, you're faced with someone who appears to have been tortured--a sad and despairing face. 

Then you're introduced to various forms of torture: the stretching ladder, the rack (both which stretch joins and dislocate bones), the spiked chair, various instruments to put pressure on thumbs, etc to cause pain. There was also the shame mask with iron spikes that gouged the face, worn by men who led a wild life.  The museum houses over 50,000 objects of torture.

The museum offers a slew of torture devices and engravings in books that documents how torture was done. 

Theo is amazingly quiet during our entire tour of the museum. He looks intently through the glass as Dan and I point out various forms of torture instruments and explain how confessions were gotten from people accused of a crime when there was no evidence. 

"Well," I finally say to him, "I brought you here for a reason."

His big little eyes widen even further.

"You want to . . . " Is he thinking we're going to torture him?

"No, Theo, of course not. I want you to understand what real torture is. What you call torture is, well, that's just mom and dad being good parents. You can't get what you want all the time."

He shrugs his shoulders.

"Do you understand?"

"I get it," he meows. "I see."

"So, find another word."

He pauses for a second. "Can I say torture and do this?" He puts his delicately outlined paws into the air and makes air quotes as he meows torture.

Once a gangster cat, always a gangster cat.

Home for the Holidays

 We are so used to traveling that it seems a bit strange to be home. The holidays are almost upon us and that means, of course, decorating the house. We put up the Christmas tree, the large Santa near the fireplace, the manger on the mantel, a few angels dressed gloriously for good measure, a wreath on the door and a basket of Christmas everything's on the front porch. Of course, we have candles in the windows on a timer so as the sun goes down, the candles come on.

Theo watches but is usually unimpressed. He likes one thing and one thing only. The Christmas tree. It used to be a real one, back in the day--and I have fond and not so fond memories of traipsing through someone's tree farm--it was usually cold and rainy--to find the perfect tree, cutting it down with an axe, dragging it home tied down on top of the roof of the car, remeasuring to make sure it would fit in the space, sawing off the excess and then finally dragging it into the house. Of course, needles would fly everywhere as you hem and haw the tree through the always too narrow door openings.

The pine smell was delicious. The labor of putting it into a tree stand and then keeping it filled with water (while every cat I've ever owned insisted that the tree's water was their water and so much better tasting than fountain water) which seemed to disappear by the hour.

Those days are in the distant past. Nowadays we have an artificial specially designed tree that looks great in a corner of our living room. The twinkling lights are pre-attached. The tree comes in three pieces and during the so much less arduous task of dragging the tree from the garage and into the house, unpacking it, assembling the three pieces and then plugging it into electricity, Theo watches, waiting. He has one objective only. To sit under the tree.

He is not one for climbing the tree, knocking the ornaments off, or attacking the angel (that's Mico's thing). All he wants to do is sit under it, on top of the Christmas blanket. 

Sure, sometimes he's joined by Sienna and Mico (they like to hide under the Christmas blanket), but usually he likes to be alone under there, falling fast asleep in the corner. 

Literally ten minutes after we have the tree up, he's there. 

"What do you want for Christmas, Theo?"

"Besides world peace and food for all the children of the world," he asks.

"Yes, besides that."

He tilts his cat face and takes a moment to consider. It is a big question. After all, he believes in Santa, the elves, the North Pole, all the reindeer and the giant sled that will bring him what he wants. I can almost read his mind and see him thinking about and then rejecting a whole host of things--more toys, an electric blanket, more catnip on his favorite toy--a round plastic thing with a ball that goes around (that he can swipe with his paw) and cardboard filler in the middle that he can scratch. 

"Fish snacks," he finally says. 

"Fish snacks?"

"That's what I want."

Okay. 

Here are some random pics of the kids around the house:

We'll be home for the holidays and taking a short vacation (a few weeks) from blogging to decompress and relax. 

We wish everyone a Happy Holiday and peaceful New Year. We hope you can spend time with the ones you love. 

We are grateful for your patronage and hope to continue with our blog for the coming year--Hot Blogging with Chuck--remembering and honoring Chuck, the rascal cat, who passed away a few years ago. 

Theo in Rothenburg-Another Disneyland?

I first visited Rothenburg years ago, and I remember one thing in particular--the famous Christmas store. Yeah, I know, I should have remembered that Rothenburg is a magical city with a strange backstory. But when you travel with someone who could play/watch tennis 24 hours a day (Dan) and a gangster cat (Theo) who has the attention span of a flea, the Christmas store is what you talk about.

Kathe Wolfhart is famous all over the world. The store is several floors and has room after room of everything you could ever want to decorate your house or your tree. Located on a street that also has a giant bear at a store entrance nearby, you enter and are immediately greeted by a moveable display of a fairytale village. 

We stand there too long--watching. Theo is enthralled. At first he's content to be held in Dan's arm and watch the magical figures. Then he gets another idea. He meows and begins to wiggle free.  We've seen that behavior before. He wants to jump into the display.

"Forget about it," we tell him. "There's no room for you in there."

Even so, we are now in the mood to tour Rothenburg. Imagine stepping into a place that offers beautiful scenic views, half-timbered houses, and a quaintness beyond compare.  

The Christmas store is near the main market where, it seems, everyone gathers. I now understand why Rothenburg is considered the German version of Disneyland for adults, minus the rides. Partially destroyed by Allied bombing during World War II, the town rebuilt itself with money from the Marshall Plan. During that renovation the town was made even more fairytale like. In fact, Germans visit Rothenburg and consider it a wonderful tourist attraction. 

Here is just a sampling of the countryside that surrounds the Christmas store:

Can you imagine living here? I'm enthralled with the greenery, the old fashioned houses, fences, stone walls and passageways. You are in another world. Dan is happy and Theo is, well, hungry, but what's new about that? 

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.