Birgu--for Theo the snack capital of Malta

 Theo, Dan and I love our time in Malta. We travel to Birgu (Maltese name) or Vittoriosa (Italian name), an ancient fortified city on the southern side of the Grand Harbor that dates back to medieval times. 

Birgu has a fascinating history. A diversity of people have lived there--the Phoenicians, the Greeks, the Romans, the Byzantines, the Angevines, and the Aragonese, and remnants of their culture still exist, but the most influential people who arrived was the Order of St. John. This Catholic Military Order built Birgu. 

Why was the Order of St. John in Birgu and why did it frankly exist at all?

The Order of St. John was a papal order founded in the 12th century, honoring John the Baptist, charged with defending the Holy Land. This fact floored me. The Order hired knights, and they fought in the Crusades until 1291. This is the background about the Crusades that I knew little about. I have read about the Crusades but wondered how were they formed? The Order has a complicated history, but essentially in 1526 the Order was driven out of Rhodes, a Greek island, and sent to Malta. When they arrived, they built three cities--Birgu was one of them, and it became important because of its prime location near the harbor where it could defend against invaders. 

During the Great Siege of Malta the Order of St. John with 500 knights and 6,000 foot soldiers repelled a four month siege from the Ottomans. Birgu was on the front lines protecting the Maltese Islands from attack.

That is one of the reasons why Birgu is so fascinating. The buildings date back to the 1500's, with plaques that share their historic significance. The town itself is quaint and inviting, with narrow streets . . .

 

romantic balconies . . 

beautiful doors . . .

 

intriguing door handles . . .

and plaques that hint at the history. This plaque identifies the Church of St. George used by the Rhodians back in the 1500's. The Rhodians were the people who followed the Order of St. John to Malta when they were kicked out of Rhodes.

For me, it's all about the details. 

Theo cares nothing for this. He is with us, but I wonder is he really with us. Mindfulness? What is going through his cat brain? He is pouty, has no interest in doorhandles or narrow quaint streets. 

Plan B for us with a pouty cat is SNACKS. They become the bribe that Theo can't resist. We walk down the charming streets of Birgu. And Theo eats snacks. And more snacks. 

And more snacks.

Enough. 

In all honesty, we finally give up. Theo becomes interested only once when we lift him up to sniff a door knocker in the shape of--you guessed it--a fish. He sniffs and sniffs. 

Finally it's time for lunch and Theo is all in. Unbelievable. 

Theo Stuck in Prehistoric Temple in Malta

 

This adventure is inspired by the history channel. Theo watches a show on cavemen and decides, out of the blue, that he wants to be a cave cat. What that means I don't know, but now he is inordinately interested in anything cavemen related.

"Theo, we're talking about long time ago. All the cavemen are gone. All we can do now is see whatever they left behind."

I think of prehistoric times and I imagine cave men, dressed in animal skins, lugging a large club around as a weapon, barefoot as they hunted for food. I never really thought much about where they lived--outdoors year-round surrounding a camp fire or obviously in a cave.  

Dan, Theo and I set out to find out what life might have been like. On Malta--a beautiful island south of Sicily--there are three ancient stone structures that are prehistoric and deemed UNESCO sites. In other words, their prehistoric dates have been verified and they are protected. 

How old? Hagar Qim is a complex of temples dating back to 5500 to 2500 years BC. These temples are older than Stonehenge in Great Britain and the Pyramids of Egypt. They are a marvel of construction considering what the "cavemen" didn't have to work with. Inside archaeologists have discovered animal bones, which means these temples were either places where animals were kept or sacrificed to the gods. 

Hagar Qim means "Standing/Worshipping Stones" that are constructed in such a way that they are not held together by nails or cement or crazy glue. Scholars over the years have speculated that the Phoenicians built the temples with no advanced technology, no tools and no system of writing. For years mythic folklore believed only giants could have moved the  boulders in place, partly because the facade contains the largest stone used in constructing these megalithic temples--it weighs 57 tons.

Hagar Qim wasn't excavated until 1839-1840, but since then the rain and sun and wind have been wearing away these megaliths. In 2009 a protective tent was erected. 

"Do you want me to get you a cavecat club?" I ask Theo before we set him down.

Theo shakes his head. He is too sophisticated for play acting. He is merely a modern day explorer, always curious, wanting to understand.

I worry. In a place like this, Theo will roam around and, of course, sniff. He will want to jump on the boulders. I can sympathize. I, too, want to touch something that is so old and yet has managed to survive. I convince myself that Theo will stay within the cool confines of the temple, especially since it seems to be getting hotter by the minute outside.

So with one eye on the temple and the other on Theo, we roam through what scholars consider the most ancient religious sites on earth. What were lives like back then? Did their lives resemble our lives at all? 

The temples were made of limestone. Features of the temple suggest fertility rituals because there are statues of obese people, representing people who had enough to eat and were, therefore, virile. The local museum in Valletta holds some of the finds which were excavated, including decorated pottery. The walls were decorated with etchings of plants. 

To the untrained eye (Dan and I) some of the boulders look as if they were blown apart as part of some kind of explosion and then hastily put together. 

But upon closer inspection, you can see that the boulders support each other and there are even smaller stones wedged between the boulders.

Scholars recognize a pattern that was reproduced throughout the world--the inner chambers and hallways.

Theo cares about none of this. He only wants to roam and sniff. Most of the temple ruins are not kept behind a gate or glass partition or cordoned off like the Acropolis in Athens. You can literally touch the stone, get close enough to see the decorations up close. Sniff the stones as much as you like.

Theo is in his glory. He jumps up, of course, on what looks like a piece of furniture and poses there as if he could be a cavecat statue. No harm, I think. And then he disappears.

For a brief moment I think about the plot of Diana Gabaldon's wonderful book Outlander where the heroine disappears near Stonehenge and travels back in time. Through a worm hole? 

Then I see his tail. Somehow Theo has wedged himself between two boulders--trying to get to the other side? Because he likes to be squeezed into tight spaces? 

Dan and I stand and stare. Is he stuck? What do we do--pull him out by his tail?

"Theo."

He seems frozen in time. Like a cat up a tree who doesn't know enough to turn around and climb back down. Until we hear something.

"Theo is snoring," Dan says.

Sure enough, adventure cat is taking a quick snooze. We yank his tail--gently--and he slowly backs out.

Embarrassed? Not really. Only hungry for another snack.

 

The Lure of the Dingli Cliffs

 So far Dan, Theo and myself have spent all of our time in Malta in Valletta, the capital. This morning we decide to branch out and visit the small village of Had Dingli that dates back to prehistoric times. It is approximately eight miles away and known for its scenery, most specifically the sweeping vistas of the sea.  

Less than 4,000 people live there. For years Had Dingli was connected to Rabat, Malta, but when Malta was divided into small parishes, Had Dingli came into its own. 

Had Dingli is also known for--and you spot them right away--the super high cliffs. It is actually the highest place in Malta. Which most likely explains why Had Dingli is still semi-rural, with little to no public transportation to get there from Valletta. 

 

I'm glad we're seeing these cliffs from a distance. No one has any desire to climb onto those giant stone rocks for a better view. We can see imaginary signs for danger all around.

Except Theo. He's been squirming around all morning. Not content to be carried safely in a backpack to see the scenery. As always, he wants to be on the ground, sniffing.

"What do you think?"

I shrug. There's only so much you can do to keep a cat happy. They always seem to have their own agenda. Which, of course, they'll never admit to. Dan puts him down.  

I issue the usual warning. "Stay with us, Theo, and stay away from those cliffs."

We slowly walk around and continue to explore. Theo is sniffing behind us. I continue to look back, just to make sure he has no intention of making a mad dash toward the boulders, that now seem like they're getting closer. Or are we getting closer to them?

We seem to be walking in a diagonal direction. Unconsciously, we've been trying to stay near Theo, 'close enough to scoop him up' distance, while he's been slowly but surely making his way toward the boulders, ie. the cliffs. 

I whisper to Dan, "Do you see what he's doing?"

Dan smiles, supremely calm. "He's either moving closer to the cliffs or the cliffs are moving closer to us."

"And moving closer to him." (Referring to our gangster cat.)

Sometimes it seems as if we speak a secret language to each other. Dan's eyes widen--a sign that he's about to take action.

"I get you."

Dan wanders over to Theo. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out our secret stash of dried cat food. Theo looks up and comes over. We have a small portable, rubberized bowl that flattens for easy carrying. But now Dan punches it out to be a bowl. We pour the food. Theo sniffs his way over. Danger is averted. For now.

There is one more thing we want to see. An ancient, tiny chapel--St. Mary Magdalen Chapel--overlooks the Dingli Cliffs. No one knows when it was originally built but there is a reference to it dating back to 1446. It was used by the local farmers. It is of simple construction with one door and one window. By 1575 it collapsed, but it was rebuilt in 1646. There's an inscription--dating from hundreds of years ago--above the door that this chapel was not awarded the usual "ecclesiastical immunity". That was changed years later.

We can't go inside, but we learn that the altar is made of limestone and behind the altar there's an altarpiece depicting Jesus forgiving Mary Magdalen.  

I stand in wonder--in awe of the Dingli Cliffs and the ancient chapel that in one form or another has been around for almost 600 years. Theo is about to take a nap. And so it goes. 

Bunny Heaven in the Cloister

 Despite the almost turtle drowning, Dan and I (with Theo grumbling beside us) continue mosying around and investigating the 400 year old cloister in Valletta, Malta. Even though this cloister used to be a palace, there's nothing elaborate here, but the stone walls are quaint and soothing. 

We visit a room where the sisters did their ironing and mending. 

We visit a room filled with ovens for cooking and baking.

There is also a room that the nuns used to prepare rose water, known as Melissa. They used a wine making machine to distill rose petals, adding crushed rose leaves, red wine and other herbs. Rose water had a wonderful lemony aroma and attracted bees. It was used for its anti-inflammatory properties and to soothe and hydrate skin. 

We look up and notice the religious decorations that surround us--the various statues of saints, of angels affixed to the stone walls. 

We are so engrossed in trying to understand a lifestyle that is so different from ours that we don't notice that Theo has gone unusually silent. "Theo silence" usually means he's plotting something. I look around to make sure that all is well, but Theo isn't there. Another cat has taken his place. It's as if a magic spell has occurred. A young skinny cat is walking between Dan's leg, where Theo was just moments before. What?

There are only two possible explanations. Theo has turned into another cat (highly unlikely but this place does give off some unusual vibes) or Theo has walked off and by pure coincidence, another cat has appeared. Out of nowhere? 

This cloister is a big place. Theo could have wandered anywhere, but there's usually a method to his exploring. If only we can figure out what it is. What would he be interested in? Besides food . . .

We glance at the cat who is looking up at us. As if he's trying to tell us something. "Let's follow this guy and see where he leads," Dan suggests.

Sure enough, as if on cue, the cat takes off across the courtyard and down a hallway. He's wandering to a part of the cloister we haven't seen yet. Frankly it's a part we didn't even know existed. Dan and I hesitate. Are we really going to follow a cat?

Don't judge. 

Finally it all becomes clear. The cat does live there. Volunteers arrive every day and feed him. And where is the cat taking us? To a little bit of bunny heaven. Of course, that's where Theo is. Somehow he sniffed out the bunny smell and without saying a meow, he followed his nose. 

I want to say--"You're in big trouble." But I also feel an immense sense of gratitude that Theo is here, unharmed. I want to pick him up, but I hate to disturb him. 

Theo is mesmerized by the treasure he's found. He's got his full face in between the slats of the cage and he's watching the bunnies. 

Let him have his fun. Theo is safe. After a few minutes, we scoop him up, remind him he can't take a bunny home with him, and we leave the lovely and cool cloister.

The only question lingering in my mind is--how did the cloister cat know we were looking for Theo? How did he know where Theo was? Was it a lucky guess, or was there something more mysterious going on? 

I turn to say thanks, but he's gone. Without a meow, he led us to the bunnies, to Theo, and then he left. Mission complete. I try to get some answers out of Theo, but all he says, "I did what I had to do." His usual Theo response, but now I think I understand.

Theo Visits a 400 Year Old Cloister

 Valetta can be brutally hot in summer. As a tourist, you don't want to be roaming the streets in the afternoon. Even Theo admits--it's too hot, so we make a unanimous decision to find refuge, in much the same way as orphans did 400 years ago. St. Catherine's Monastery for female orphans, founded in 1575, still stands today. It no longer houses orphans, but it is still the refuge for a small group of nuns who live there. It is maintained by volunteers who come on a daily basis and tend the lovely garden, feed the animals that live there, and do whatever has to be done.

There is an interesting back story to how the orphanage came about. A marquis and his wife donated the building, formerly their palace Casa Vanilla, to say thank you to God for saving their son during a plague. They built a cloister and donated all their belongings after their death.

Entering this cloister is like walking back in time. Before electricity and running water and toilets, before radio and TV, before the internet, you can peek into the past and see what life was like when people made the decision to get away from it all.

Theo wants to go straight to the garden. He wants to sniff the flowers and trees. Dan and I, on the other hand, don't want to miss a thing so we decide to follow the placards carefully posted that identify the various rooms so we can see this old-fashioned world.

Our first room is where washing of clothes and linens were done. No, there is no washing machine. Instead, they used a large stone basin. 

Some of the brick walls are filled with religious photos. Now a days the walls also contain photos of the nuns who lived in the cloister.  We continue walking and discover a room filled with wash basins. When girls entered the convent to become a nun, part of the expected dowry from their family was often a zinc wash basin or a small wardrobe.

Girls did not always come willingly. Sometimes they were dragged to the cloister kicking and screaming by their families, who hoped living in the cloister would control their behavior. The cloister had a room called a control room where the troubled girls were kept until they conformed. It is small and sparse. 

 

Theo, ignoring the rope (where the door would have been) that says stay out, sniffs the basins and tables, trying, as we are, to make sense of a place that existed in a time that believed a girl's future could be determined by her family, that she might have little say in it.  We move onto the next area, but Theo stops with a pleading look in his eyes. 

"Okay. Okay. We'll visit the garden."

It is perfectly placed in the center of the cloister. The rooms surround it. You can access the garden from several doors. The sun shines in, and it is all greenery and flowers and fountains and statues. 

There is a small fountain. Water trickles from a spout to a wider basin below. Theo hears the water and rushes over. I'm thinking it is like our fountains at home that all the cats drink from, and Theo is  thirsty. But no, Theo stops and stares for another reason. 

Turtles. Two turtles live in the small basin. They blissfully swim around until they're tired and pause momentarily on the stones. They soon take off again, swimming faster than you would imagine, considering how slow they walk on land. 

Theo is mesmerized. He climbs to the top of the basin and leans over to get closer. There are times when I can read his mind.

"Do not go in that water."

He acts like he doesn't hear me. 

"Theo, if you go swimming in that water, you'll freak out the turtles. So don't do it."

Theo looks up, but I can't tell if he's agreeing with me or not. I wait. He continues to lean over and watch the turtles. 

I pull out my iPhone to take a video, but decide to take a moment to appreciate how peaceful and restful the garden is. I imagine the women who lived here during the centuries, how they must have enjoyed this space--the planting of vegetables and herbs, the fruit trees, the quiet and solitude of sitting on a bench . . . 

I hear it before I see it. The splash of water. It is either the turtles trying to escape or . . . I can't believe it. In that split second when I focus on taking the video, Theo jumps into the water. He misses one of the turtles by an inch or two. The water isn't deep, but I suspect that Theo didn't think it through. He jumps in, and now he panics. 

This is the kind of thing that can get you thrown out of cloister. It is a miracle that Theo is allowed to walk around and be a cat. Usually places say--only service animals allowed--and we sneak him in. But this is Valetta in Malta. 

It is not difficult to rescue Theo. Dan grabs on and lifts him out of the water, totally dripping. We have a few tissues with us but not enough to even begin to dry him off.

But Theo, a cat after all, gives a few shakes and the water shoots off in all directions. The front of Dan's shirt is soaked. Somehow I manage to avoid looking like I got caught in a rain shower.

All's well that ends well. "It actually feels quite good," Dan says. 

I secretly wish Theo had sprayed me. 

And, Theo? He doesn't care that he almost drowned a turtle. He doesn't care that he's leaving water spots on the stone floor as he traipses along, in search of another adventure. And that's the beauty of being a cat. He doesn't care.

   STAY TUNED TO PART 2 OF THE CLOISTER NEXT WEEK