The Bones of St. Matthew? Theo Investigates.

 If you weren't born and raised a Catholic, you probably don't know that the religion is rife with stories--regarding saints and apostles and popes--that report that so and so's bones are buried here. Case in point. 

Dan, Theo (the gangster cat) and I are traveling around Salerno in Italy when we catch wind that St. Matthew's bones (or relics) are buried in the underground portion of a church. 

Who is St. Matthew? One of the apostles. He wrote one of the gospels that form the basis of the New Testament. If you are a fan of The Chosen, a publicly funded multi-part mini series that authentically traces the life and death of Jesus, Matthew is portrayed as slightly autistic. He was a tax collector for the Romans before he converted. 

By pure coincidence, I have a brother named Matthew. So how can we resist checking out the relics of a saint he was named after. Are they really his bones? Experts waver. 

The official story is: In Salerno, the Duomo of Salerno, or St. Matthew's Cathedral was built between 1080 and 1085. The remains of St. Matthew were found in 165 and later transported to Salerno in 954. Originally they were placed in an ancient Christian church (on the same site as the Cathedral). Later the remains were moved to the crypt. In 1688 the Cathedral was destroyed by an earthquake and rebuilt by 3 Italians. The Cathedral includes a bell tower and an impressive courtyard surrounded by porticos.

 

It is a majestic church that literally takes your breath away when you walk inside.

There is so much to see--the walls of the church and all of the artwork on the walls and the magnificent ceiling: 

We are enthralled, but anxious to go down the stairs to visit the crypt which lies underneath the main altar. This is where San Matteo is--the bones of the apostle we call St. Matthew.  

"Do you think it is really him?" I ask Dan.

Dan shrugs. "It could be."

Theo looks up, and I can almost see his brain thinking. He'll find out, he seems to want to say. He precedes us down the stairs to the crypt. 

"How does he know where to go?"

We pass an engraving on the wall which seems to identify that what we are about to see is for real. After all, St. Matthew is the patron saint of Salerno.

We round the corner and see the crypt in all its magnificence:

 Well, actually the crypt is blocked by a railing which surrounds it.

What we see is a sign that reads San Matteo. 

Right away I spot the problem. The crypt is under the altar. You cannot get close to it unless you leap over the railing that surrounds it. We stand as close as we can get and peer in.

And there he goes. Before we can say--don't go near the crypt, Theo has slipped between the rungs on the railing and is making his way toward the crypt.

"Theo, come back here."

Now I have to be honest. There are no armed guards protecting St. Matthew's remains. We could leap over the railing if we wanted to. There are very few visitors who are standing around. 

But somehow it feels sacrilegious. 

Nothing is going to stop Theo, however. He heads straight toward the crypt. And he's sniffing and sniffing.

I'm sceptical. Will Theo, with his expert sniffing, be able to answer the question--is St. Matthew really in the crypt?

Slowly he comes back, slips through the railing and acts as if he hasn't been on some deep secret mission. 

"Well? Is it St. Matthew or not?"

No answer. Theo has sniffed but he's keeping the info to himself.

"We're pulling out a snack."

The crinkling of the bag tells Theo that we mean business. 

Finally, he nods.

Theo has nodded. It is St. Matthew! Go figure.

Theo and Buffalo Bill

 

Dare I admit that I am in love with buffalo? Just take a peek. Yeah, I admit these guys are baby buffalo, but how cute!

Years ago I visited a buffalo farm in New Jersey which was known for their bison. I remember watching the buffalo in the field--I always think they are so magnificent looking--but what I remember most was accidentally stepping into a gigantic pile of buffalo poop. It looked like a mound of dirt. I had no idea. Yuck!

Today Dan, Theo, and I are on our way to another buffalo farm, but this farm is known for its buffalo mozzarella. It is family owned, of course, and it is surrounded by palm trees. Only in Italy. 

My appreciation for mozzarella has grown over the years. When I make lasagne, you can buy mozzarella all wrapped up and ready to slice. When you make a pizza, you can buy already shredded mozzarella. You can buy low fat and full boat mozzarella. Now the trend is fresh mozzarella, which is still sitting in its own juice. 

Most mozzarella is from cows. In Italy, in Capaccio, a province of Salerno in the Campania region, they breed buffalo for their mozzarella. The taste of that particular mozzarella is richer and more tangy.

So here we are at a buffalo farm, and I am very careful where I step. The buffalo here, when we arrive are in stalls, and luckily, we can walk on pathways--free of poop? I'm hoping.

The buffalo do roam outside, but for now they are in their pens. This place is enormous. 

Theo is in his glory. He can smell the buffalo--and his little nose is sniffing away. He stops a few times along the trail and just stares. 

I've seen them before, of course, in the wild at Yellowstone National Park. There you keep your distance. They can move fast, and like most wild animals, the mamas will defend the baby buffalos if they sense any threat. A close encounter with a buffalo will land you in the hospital or even dead. 

"Keep an eye on him," Dan calls out.

"I know." He means Theo, whose curiosity might just get the best of him. 

I call it close encounters of the third kind--when you go nose to nose. I can imagine Theo . . .

And sure enough there he is, the little gangster cat, stalking along the perimeter of the fence, separating safety from buffalo. He stops. And a buffalo saunters over. Curious too?

I can easily imagine the worse case scenario. Theo slips under the fence, misinterpreting the buffalo's friendliness. Something Chucky would do. 

If I move closer, will Theo make a move? A wrong move? 

Meanwhile, the buffalo--let's call him Bill--is inserting his head between the iron fencing and sniffing. I know he's spied Theo. I know he's curious. Has he ever seen a cat before? Sniffed a cat?

Dan, my hero, who has saved Theo from more unfortunate incidents, scoops Theo in his arms. He takes a step back but not too far. Theo protests. He meows. I feel incredibly bad. 

I have to admit this buffalo looks totally harmless. But I've heard the stories from Yellowstone. I know they are deadly wild animals. And yet, dare I say it, they look cute.

I snap a lot of photos. I take one more video.  Stalling?

"Should we let Theo sniff the buffalo?" I tentatively ask.

Dan looks like he can go either way. But he steps closer.

"Wait. Not too close--"

But Theo is giving me the evil eye. Even Buffalo Bill is looking at me a bit funny.

Nothing much happens. Theo sniffs. Buffalo Bill sniffs. There is no biting, punching, eye gouging, cat eating. Nothing. Later we eat lunch there also (it's always about food), and Theo even tries the buffalo mozzarella. 

Theo likes it. Yes!!

The Miracle of Paestum

 Greek temples in Italy? If you need confirmation as to how crazy the world can be, visit Italy where you'll find more Greek temples than in Greece. 

Historians in the know report that during the eighth century BC, ancient Greeks settled along the coasts of the Mediterranean Sea and founded more than 500 Greek colonies, scattered along the shores of the Black Sea, southern Italy, Northern Africa and the coasts of southern France and Spain. They built temples to honor their gods. 

We wanted to see for ourselves what historians call a miracle.  

Sure enough--for some unexplained reason, the Romans did not destroy three well-preserved Greek temples. Centuries later, the miracle continued. During WWII, American (136th Infantry Division) and British forces arrived to liberate Italy. Salerno was the landing point where the Americans fought the Germans for control. The American soldiers slept in those same temples. The fighting caused some damage, but still the temples survived. 

They are a marvel. When you first see them, they seem surreal--as if you've stepped back in time. Imagine a field of grass and rock and dirt, where larger stones lay on top. This is what excavation looks like, a slow process of uncovering what lies beneath. Paestum is approximately one half mile wide. So far, the Italians have excavated only one fifth of that area:

 

In the distance you see a stone archway. 

Further on, you spot your first temple. Doric style. Built in honor of Hera, one of the Greek gods, in 600 BC. Paestum thrived as a democracy for 200 years.  

To the left is the second temple built in honor of Hera. Again remarkably well-preserved.

  

I'm not an expert on temples, but even I can see the details that remain after thousands of years. It is truly remarkable. 

Theo is with us, of course. He loves being outside, smelling the breezes. Today is not as hot as it usually is in Italy in June. But Theo loves the sun. He seems as entranced as we are. 

You can get up close and personal to these two temples, which isn't always the case when you visit ruins. (You can only admire the Acropolis in Athens, Greece, from afar.) Here you can climb up and walk inside the temple and touch the stone. You can imagine the awe the peasants would have felt to witness the size and glory of a building. 

Theo is having the time of his life. I suspect things are only real to him if he can sniff them. After a few minutes, we have to usher him along. There is still one more temple to see. And the amphitheater.

The third temple (far to the right) is dedicated to Athena. Unfortunately, barriers are erected to keep tourists from going inside. What happens next is our own darned fault.

Theo thinks you can sniff any ruin. Any temple. He doesn't quite get the context of barriers which means keep out. A barrier is just an obstacle that he can easily overcome. In this case, he slides through and is standing in the forbidden zone. 

This is going to be tricky. 

"What do you think we should do?"

Now the barriers are not ten feet tall. Dan can scoot over one in an instant. We look around. A few people are milling about. A horde of tourists are still over by the Hera Temple. We have a few minutes yet to solve the problem.

"I don't see any guards."

Still Dan is reluctant to go into the forbidden zone. Would Italians think it's cute that we're rescuing our cat or would they see us as temple terrorists and arrest us? I can see the headlines now . . . 

"Theo," he calls. "Snack time."

Who says Theo doesn't understand English? Or recognize the sound of his favorite dried food rustling against the small plastic container we're holding. 

"Shake it again."

That's all it takes. Theo loses interest in the temple and slides back through the barrier. We hightail it over to the amphitheater and sit down to snack. 

As we're leaving, we take one last look behind. The Athena Temple stands there in all its glory, and we're sure it's destined to remain for at least another thousand years.

To Bribe or Not To Bribe

 For so many travelers, if their bucket list includes Italy, it usually means looking at something old, ancient. Even when you're trying to discover how Italians live today in 2024, their lives are still intwined in the past--old historic buildings and statues and left over temples from when the Greeks invaded. 

Today we decide, just the three of us, to stay in the tiny town, south of Puzzuoli on the coast of Italy, called Baiae. In the day--and I mean many moons ago--Baiae was the getaway vacation spot for the rich and famous of Rome. They would pack up and stay in their luxurious villas, which they built near the sea. (We already visited one such villa, Villa Ambulatio.) It sounds like a good idea. After all, I live in a state which celebrates its shore towns and beaches.

Unfortunately, by the 1500's Baiae was abandoned and then covered by water from the nearby shallow waters of the bay. It seems the water level rose ever so slowly due to volcanic vents that were in the area. Today, if you are a fan of snorkeling or riding in a glass bottom boat, you can see some of those remains, captive in the bay. They call it the city under water. 

The ruins are one reason for visiting Baiae. The other reason is to get a glimpse of modern Italy. Because Baiae fronts a bay, the water views are stunning. There is a promenade you can walk along and feel the cool bay breezes:

We also catch a glimpse of that infamous mountain that rose up in one day because of the unsettled ground near Puzzuoli. 

In the center of the town, there is sign for an ancient temple, which once stood there. In reality, it wasn't a temple but an open market. But I love how modern Italy built itself around the old.

Even today open markets are extremely popular in many small Italian towns. There is usually one day a week where the market is open--selling everything you can think of--local produce, meats, cheeses, to clothes, shoes, and household goods:

I remember years ago staying with my girlfriend's sister in Rosignavo Salvo (near Pisa) and visiting an open market in their town. Often the cost of clothing is prohibitive in the usual brick and mortar stores, so Italians believe they can get a better deal buying their clothes this way. I remember stepping into the back of a large pickup truck, which acted as a dressing room, to try on something I wanted to buy. 

I can't resist this time either. Theo follows along, sniffing every stall we visit, remarkably well behaved, watching the people as they pick up and inspect item after item, deciding whether to buy it or not. 

"Stay right here near me, okay?"

Theo glances up and it's hard to tell if he's listening or has any intention of doing what I ask. 

"I mean it."

He meows, which I interpret as he will control himself.

I spot a lovely blue tablecloth with a large sunflower on it. Can I use this? It's not wrinkle free, and I will dread ironing it every time it comes out of the dryer. Should I take it? As a memento? 

"Where's Theo?" Dan is not a shopper, but he's been hovering around a nearby table filled with Italian snacks. (Which means neither one of us has been keeping an eye on Theo.)

"He was here a moment ago, and I warned him to stay put . . ."

Famous last words. Haven't we learned by now that watching Theo is a 24 hour job. Get interested in your surroundings, get distracted for a millisecond and the kid seems to disappear into thin air.

"There he is." Dan points to the next stall selling more snacks. Of course. Theo blew me off, sauntered over to investigate--his nose going 240, sniffing the aromatic smells of Italian delicacies. 

"Theo." There is a sharpness to my voice. 

He doesn't budge.

"Theo."

"He hasn't done anything wrong," Dan reminds me.

"I know. He's being a cat."

Dan, my daily hero, leaves to rescue Theo. This isn't always so easy. He can be as slippery as an eel when he doesn't want to be picked up. I see him easily sidestep Dan. Dan, undeterred, kneels down and launches an argument.

I decide against buying the tablecloth. The next thing I know I'm holding Theo captive.

"Well?"

"We reached a compromise."

"You bribed him."

 Dan shrugs but leaves to buy some food. For Theo. There's chicken cooking on a grill. And some cheese. 

"You're a real gangster," I concede, then thank our lucky stars there's always good food to eat in glorious Italy.

 

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.