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 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.