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.

 

Theo Behaves Badly in Valletta

 At first, Theo does not want to go to Malta. He wants to stay in Sicily.  It's the food, of course. He likes fish . . . fish . . . and more fish. He wants to go back to that open air market and smell the fish. He likes the heat of the summer.

What can Malta offer? He wants to know.

We are sailing on the Mediterranean Sea to Malta, an island country between Sicily and North Africa. The natives speak Maltese (98%), English (88%) and Italian (66%). We figure we'll fit right in. Theo is unsure. His Italian is a little shaky,

"Well, Malta is known for lampuki," I explain. "Fried mahi-mahi." Theo squints at me. He likes tuna and mackerel. Mahi mahi? He's not sure. 

Dan and I are excited. We know that Malta has had a long and turbulent history. When other countries tried to dominate the Mediterranean Sea, when Europe clashed with Africa and the Middle East, Malta fought back. Like Sicily, Malta was ruled by Phoenicians, Romans, Greeks, Arabs, Normans, Sicilians, French and the British (in short, practically everyone.) 

During WWII Malta was a base for the Allies. It was heavily bombed by Germany and Italy. Finally in 1964, Malta achieved its independence. In 1980 it was named a UNESCO World Heritage Site. That's the short version, but it explains why walking around Valletta, the capital city, is like traveling back in time. We don't tell Theo any of this. To understand Malta's backstory, you have to understand the ancient world. 

We do a walking tour and are in awe. It is hot--hotter even than Sicily in summer. You need sunglasses and a hat. Our strategy is to suffer less and walk early in the morning, swim in the afternoon, and party at night. But Theo loves the heat. We can hear him softly purring as we trudge through the streets. 

Valletta is a walled city, founded in the 1500's by the Knights of St. John, a Roman Catholic order. Still today you can admire the historic cannons that sat ready and waiting at the port, ready to protect the city from siege. A glimpse of life back then.

Theo doesn't care about the guns. He notices a horse with a carriage. For tourists. Theo insists on making friends. We don't have time. He wants to go over and sniff. Of course. Okay. One sniff, but that's it. Theo then refuses to leave. This has happened before--he's thinking he wants to make a friend. We're thinking--we don't have time.   

The horse snorts. He stamps his foot. Once. Twice. This horse doesn't want to make friends. Theo is insistent. Luckily the driver of the carriage is taking siesta and doesn't care what's happening, but I care. 

"You are behaving badly," I tell him. 

He shrugs.

The only option left is to scoop up Theo and carry him off. He gives us the stink eye.

We ignore his pouting and walk through the town, which is one of the smallest capital cities in Europe, admiring the historic limestone buildings, decorated in the high baroque style. (Who can believe the intricate details?) We navigate through narrow streets. We even spot a lion statue as we mosey along. 

 We enter the section of Valletta called the Upper Barrakka, known for their gardens. Finally, we release Theo. He gives us a withering glance as he scampers among the flowers. 

"You can sniff to your heart's content. Be happy."

 If we served him some lampuki, he would be over the moon. His dried cat food will have to do.

 

Chuck Eyes the Bikini Girls at the Villa

How does a cat gain the reputation of being a rascal?

It can easily happen when it has something to do with bikini girls.

I am often amazed at what Chuck knows and yet pretends not to know--when directly quizzed. For example.

In the middle of Sicily, in the middle of a green valley, sits a Roman villa by the name of Casale near a town called Piazza Armerina. This villa has 63 rooms and some believe it was originally designed as an imperial hunting palace, outfitted with an intricate heating and cooling system, indoor plumbing, swimming pool and 42 colorful floors of mosaic tiles estimated to have taken 21,000 days of work (if it’s true that a worker needs six days to complete a square meter of mosaic tile.)

Now you might be thinking--so? I am sure that Sicily is chock filled with villas, but this villa is special. Why?

Well, for one thing the floor tiles in this villa depict scenes from a lifestyle that no longer exists--a very comfortable middle class Roman family life of over 1500 years ago--and the only reason the villa still survives today is that it was destroyed by an earthquake and then covered (and thus preserved) by a landslide.

The earthquake occurred somewhere around 346 AD. The landslide in 1161 AD.

Chuckie decided--when we were in Sicily--that he wanted to see this villa. Was it because it was recognized as a UNESCO world heritage site? Was it because it was considered a “famous archaeological site of cultural tourism”?

When I mentioned these facts, of course, the Chuckster nodded in agreement, a kind of yah, yah, yah. But I know Chuckie. I know how he thinks.

It seems that the truth was a lot more interesting. Chuckie had seen somewhere, I suspect on the History Channel, that this villa had a floor mosaic of BIKINI GIRLS, and he wanted to see those girls for himself.

Now, we’re not talking Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue, but we are talking about a mosaic that depicted women in bikini bathingsuits that went back over fifteen hundred years ago. Could it be true?

The security at The Roman Villa of Casale is very strict. Several years ago tourists were allowed to wander from room to room and actually throw water on the tile floors so they could more clearly see the mosaic tiles which sprung to seeming life when the outer layer of what appeared to be dust was washed away. One day a tourist threw acid, not water, on one of the floors--irreparably destroying that particular floor--so tourists are no longer allowed to throw anything down on the floor. As one wanders from room to room, it is difficult to imagine what the floors must have looked like so many years ago.

Chuck and I kept a very low profile. Luckily, we arrived toward the end of the day. It was in November and as we began to lose the sun, I figured it would be easier for Chuck to peer out of my backpack, where he was hiding, and catch a glimpse of tile floor he wanted the most to see without being seen himself. I was nervous that if one of the Italian guards spotted us, we would be booted off the villa’s property.

Finally, we made it into the Bikini Girl Room, one of the rooms which surrounded the built in swimming pool area that was in the center of the villa. For a moment we were alone. Chuck popped his head out and snuck a peek at the mosaic floor. He remained absolutely still, and I could tell he was impressed.

“There they are, Chuck,” I said. “The bikini girls. Over 1,500 years old.”

He pointed to the girl in the red suit. She was obviously his favorite.

Just as I was snapping the photo as a keepsake, I heard noise from the hallway. A guard appeared. “Signora. Signora.”

It was easy to tell by the frown on his face and the multitude of hand motions that he was ushering me--I mean “us” out of the room.

Luckily, Chuck had ducked back under cover.

As we sauntered outside, I listened for the usual purring that I expected to hear--but this time there was no purr, only a kind of snore.

The kid was already in “dream land,” no doubt, sunbathing on some Italian beach somewhere, flanked on either side by the BIKINI GIRLS.