Theo and Mt. Etna

 Years ago I saw one of Mt. Etna's many eruptions. From a distance it looked like the lava was spilling into the blackened sky. Some of the eruptions are harmless, some are not. It is wise not to get too close to where the lava is spilling out. 

Earlier that day, while it was erupting, I was lucky enough to take three different forms of transportation to get up the mountain. I then walked across what looked like a moonscape. The ground was still covered in black shiny glass-like lava from centuries before. 

Finally, I reached my destination. A crack in the earth on the other side of the mountain. I had to climb up a small incline before I had the chance to look down and watch lava flowing by inside the earth. The heat rising up from the crack melted the make-up off my face. It was a moment I would never forget. 

This is not the usual experience you have in other places. It would be considered too dangerous. I learned later the Sicilian Mafia was in charge of this operation. 

Now I am back in Sicily with Dan and Theo to see this notorious volcano. I want to see and show the boys that crack in the earth so they can see the flowing lava. 

We must ride part way up the mountain by car. The road winds its way up the mountain. Then at a certain point we'll meet our guide and walk the rest of the way up. This is not the way I went up the mountain the first time. Clue #1

The scenery is spectacular as we wind our way up the mountain. Everything looks lush, alive. 

We pass stands and stands of white birch trees. I don't remember them from the last time. Clue# 2

The higher we travel up Mt. Etna, the more spectacular the views. We can see the top of the mountain in the distance, where four or five craters exist. Now it's only spewing steam, but it still looks impressive. Again, there were few spectacular views the last time. Clue# 3

Then we begin to see the evidence of the many prior volcanic explosions. The black lava shows how far it has come down the mountain in previous eruptions. 

We have plans to meet our guide at a rest stop. We arrive and get out. Theo is itching to get out and run around and sniff. I feel that he'll have a much better experience if he knows something about Mt. Etna. 

"Theo, Etna is a very special volcano." 

We tell him everything we know: 

Mt. Etna is an active stratovolcano on the east coast of Sicily. It is one of the tallest, active volcanoes in Europe. It covers an area of 459 square miles. It is also one of the world's most active volcanoes and is in an almost constant state of activity. In 2013 it became a UNESCO World Heritage Site. 

Most eruptions occur at the summit. Some occur on the flanks of Etna, where there are over 300 vents ranging in size from small holes that emit steam to large craters hundreds of feet across. The flank eruptions are more dangerous. Since 1600 AD there have been 60 flank eruptions. Interestingly, the first recorded eruption of Etna was 396 BC. The historic record is filled with accounts of eruptions by scholars, writers, soldiers, and historians.

You never know if Theo is really listening. We watch him roam around and make a beeline for the lava on the ground. 

"Theo, we are in a magical place." 

That is true, but it is also a place of danger. I think about the crack in the earth. And I worry. Is this such a good idea?

We meet our guide and begin our trek up the mountain. She poses near a boulder that was kicked out of the mountain during an eruption. 

As we get higher and higher up, the path narrows in places and becomes quite slippery. Dan grabs hold of Theo, just in case. If you slip, you can literally fall off the mountain. 

All our hearts beat a little faster.

I say to our guide, "Does the mafia still run things around here?"

She looks confused, even a bit shocked. Clue #4

I then mention to the guide what I want to see. Now she looks at me as if I'm crazy. "That is no longer a possibility for tourists. You have to be a trained professional to get anywhere near that close."

I feel a mixture of disappointment, but some relief. 

"Don't worry. There are some great views on top," she assures me. 

After all the bragging I did, I know Dan and Theo will be disappointed, too. I couldn't be more wrong.

Dan, who is afraid of heights, is doing everything he can to stay on the mountain. He is not a fan of narrow slippery trails. Theo is happy just sniffing his way up the mountain. How many cats can brag that they've sniffed the actual Sicilian lava?

Our guide is right. The views are spectacular. The lava is everywhere.

When we reach the top, we see the crater in the distance. 

All in all, we are satisfied. I have my memory of the flowing lava, Dan made it down the mountain alive, and Theo is gobbling up snacks in the back seat of the car.  Another sort of perfect day.

Theo and the Sputtering Volcano

 I am not an expert on volcanoes. I don't know why they erupt sometimes and not at other times. I don't know how to tell if an erupting volcano is dangerous or just a sight to behold.

In the United States, there are only a few active volcanoes--Kilauea in Hawaii, Mount Rainier and Mount St. Helens in Washington state, Mount Hood in Oregon, Redoubt Volcano in Alaska, and then there's Yellowstone National Park.

Volcanoes that sputter and spit lava and steam are not easy to spot in the United States. The last volcano that erupted in the US was Kilauea in September 2024. The last dangerous eruption in the US occurred when Mount St. Helens erupted in 1980 and killed 60 people.

Maybe that is why volcanoes are so fascinating. There is that element of danger which warns you not to get too close. 

We are cruising to Siracusa in Sicily when we pass Stromboli, an active volcano in Sicily that erupts quite often. It is near sunset. A 3/4 moon hangs in the sky. 

We see the first fiery sparks every 10 minutes or so, and that gives me plenty of time to run and get Theo. He is napping, of course, but I shake him awake and explain the situation.

"Theo, this is a sight to see. I want you to come out with me. You'll probably never get to see a volcano erupting again."

Theo yawns.

"I'm serious. I wouldn't be so dismissive. Trust me on this."

When Theo is thinking or considering an idea, he usually gets up and stretches. He arches his back. He pretends not to be listening.

I wait. "Well?"

It would be nice if Theo says something like "No, mom, I'd rather not" or even "Just forget it."

But he doesn't. He relaxes and closes his eyes. 

"Theo."

Volcanos are not his thing. Obviously.

I'm back outside on the deck. The sparks from the volcano get bigger and bigger.

Then two lava sparks appear, and the lava begins to flow. You can see it begin to wind its way down the mountain. We're assured there is no danger. It is far enough away from civilization to hurt anyone. 

An erupting volcano is a mesmerizing event. You have a hard time pulling away. We blithely walk around on the earth, seldom thinking about what lies underneath. Until we have an earthquake. Or until a volcano erupts. 

Later, I show Theo the video I took. His attitude is completely different. He wants to see all three videos. He actually looks excited to watch the sparks and sputters. 

I don't want to say "I told you so" but the words pop out of my mouth. I feel bad.

"Well, tomorrow," I tell him, "We'll be climbing up Mt. Etna. Dad can put you in his backpack. Maybe you'll even be able to see some lava up close and personal."

 

Theo and St. Bart's Thumb

 We drag a love sick cat with us to the island of Lipari. Theo doesn't want to leave Sorrento and Ms. Cow. We lure him with a promise of extra snacks and a peek into one of the most famous churches in the area, famous because of a thumb--a relic of a saint--that is now there.

Imagine--we are in the Tyrrhenian Sea with incredible views before we land on the largest island in the archipelago that sits offshore near Sicily.  Theo is not interested in the view; he only wants to see the thumb.

We love the idea of visiting Lipari. Yes, we want to see the thumb--more on that in a minute--but we also want to see one of the best sides of Italy--unspoiled, less touristy, with narrow cobblestone streets, and raw balconies, the old intermingled with the new. 

We walk the streets, take in the sea views, and enjoy the sights, ever aware that Theo is not a happy camper. 

"Where is the thumb?" he wants to know.

We enter the Cathedral of St. Bartholomew, and Bart is everywhere.

 

One source says the thumb rests within a silver arm container for holy relics in the cathedral. It is only exposed for veneration during the feast days of the saint. What? We don't dare tell Theo that.

Another source says St. Bart's thumb rests within the red porphyry basin (a reddish purple rock, very rare, considered the royal rock) that supports the main altar of the Cathedral di San Bartolomeo. So that's where we're headed (with trepidation) to the main altar of the Cathedral.

"There it is," we say, keenly aware that Theo actually wants to see the thumb. Up close and personal. Maybe even sniff it. He doesn't want to imagine that the thumb is encased in some container that he can't see. He doesn't want to know there is a rope that prevents visitors from getting too close.

"First, you have to hear the story of St. Bartholomew so you'll have some appreciation of why his thumb is so important."

Theo gives us the stink eye.

We persevere: "Bartholomew was a preacher in Asia who converted many people to the Christian faith. That's why he was killed by the pagans in Armenia in the most horrific way. While he was still alive, they removed his skin. Then they beheaded him."

Theo is slightly interested. This is a story that he can appreciate--the sheer ghoulishness of it. 

"The local people prayed to him and reported that there were miracles in his name. So the locals became more devoted which angered the pagans who then put Bartholomew's remains in a marble chest and threw it out to sea to get rid of him once and for all."

Theo yawns, but he's still listening.

"The chest didn't sink but instead floated on the top of the water and was carried by a current to Lipari. The local bishop, who was warned by an angel in a dream of Bartholomew's arrival, welcomed his remains. The local population, honored, decided to make St. Bartholomew the patron saint of the Aeolian Island."

Theo has closed his eyes. Is he asleep? Dan motions me to keep on talking. Maybe this is our way out. We'll just tell him he missed the thumb when he wakes up.

"So," I continue, "over the centuries, the people called on their patron saint to save them from earthquakes, plagues, and barbarian attacks. Then the remains were stolen and sent to Rome. But still the people believed. They took up a collection and built a silver statue in his honor in 1728 which is on the main altar of the Cathedral of St. Bartholomew. Today his thumb is the only relic that remains."

There is no one else in the Cathedral. We are standing in front of the altar. I feel bad for what we're about to do. Dan slowly lifts up a sleeping Theo and we leave.

As we are on our way back to our ship, Theo opens one eye.

"It's such a shame you missed the thumb, Theo."

Theo looks at me with a great deal of skepticism. I feel guilty.

"It wasn't that great. We hardly saw anything. In fact, come to think of it, I might have blinked and missed the thumb completely."

The poor boy looks disappointed.

And then a partial miracle happens. We pass by a bowl filled with stones, but not ordinary stones--pumice, which is what the island is also known for. "Look, Theo, pumice."

Yeah, it's not a thumb, but the kid has a chance to sniff the pumice, and we feel vindicated. Well, sort of.

Theo Falls for Italian Cow

 We are still in Sorrento and to our delight are invited to visit a family that lives outside of town and have lunch with them. 

All we know is that this extended family lives together--their houses are side by side and they spend a good deal of their time together. The Nonna, or grandmother, has her own small apartment. Her daughter lives in the adjacent larger house with her two daughters who attend college and high school. A younger male cousin lives down the street and spends a lot of time with the family.

Their joint house is painted a pale yellow. Nonna cooks in the kitchen, making the pasta and sauce. The mother and father both go to work. The family supplements their income with their farm animals--chickens, pigs, and a cow. They are not pets. Milk, cheese, eggs and eventually the pigs will be sold.

Their extended backyard is their garden. They grow everything you can think of from tomatoes and peppers to beans, eggplant. The list goes on. They buy their wine at the local cooperative. 

There is a long communal table in their dining room draped in a bright yellow tablecloth with sunflowers on it. The family eats most of their meals together. This is where they sit and talk about their day. 

Nonna speaks very little English but we are still able to talk to her, despite the fact that she speaks in a local dialect. The mother speaks a little English and can understand us if we speak slowly. Both daughters learned English in school. The oldest daughter is the most proficient. 

We talk mostly in English but are curious about the grandmother and try to speak some Italian slowly so we can engage her in conversation. 

Theo wants to know where the animals are and impatiently stomps around, sniffing everything. He can smell them. He is meowing. 

"Geez. Give us a minute." 

I'm curious about the house, the role that Nonna plays, how the family survives economically, what is considered a typical Italian meal, but Theo insists we look at the animals first. 

Their land is not flat. The animals are kept on the higher portion so we need to climb some wooden stairs to get to the top. 

"Can we see your animals?"

The two daughters act as guides. We climb the stairs. It is rustic. There is nothing fancy about this operation. It is very functional and pragmatic. 

First we see the chickens. There are a slew of them, milling around in the cage. Very chatty and when Theo steps up to the cage to get a better sniff, they react. They become even more skittish. 

And there are the two pigs who want to sniff Theo as much as he wants to sniff them.

We then saunter over to where Ms. Cow resides.  She is a real beauty as far as cows go. She's been part of the family for years. Theo is very interested.

We lift Theo up to get a better look at her. She glances over, not particularly enamored of a cat and we're about to go, but Theo objects. He likes what he sees. He wants to get closer. 

"It's almost time for lunch. Nonna is cooking the sauce." The two daughters climb the stairs. Dan follows.

I'm hungry and can't wait to eat, but Theo has other ideas. He wriggles and wriggles and I put him down. He gets closer to the large pen and seems to be looking for a way in.

"Theo, what has gotten into you?"

Over on the side, there is an opening. He stands there and waits and sure enough Ms. Cow comes over. She leans down, curious now. 

Theo sticks his paw through one of the openings. 

I step away. "Theo."

But there is no budging this cat away from this cow. He sits down, quite comfortably on the cement floor. 

"So you'd rather stay here and eat?"

It's easy enough to pour out some dried food in a pop-up plastic bowl I carry with me. 

I start to climb the stairs and glance back. Theo hasn't touched his food. He's staring into the pen. 

Oh my gosh, is he in love? With an Italian cow? Will wonders never cease? And, no, we're not taking Ms. Cow back to America.

Sorrento - What Is It Like Really?

 Sorento, Italy--what is is like really? Theo, the gangster cat, wants to know. We only have a day to walk around and visit this wondrous cliff side city that hovers over the Bay of Naples, renowned for its nature and culture. This is the city where mythical sirens with their sweet singing lured sailors to shipwreck on the rocks. Even the great Ulysses wanted to hear the songs, but he was smart enough to block his ears, commanding his men to tie him to the ship's mast so he could avoid catastrophe.

The night before we sail into the harbor, we are greeted by a lovely sunset. The sky is ablaze in pink. We listen carefully for the siren's call. Theo seems especially animated. Can he hear something we can't. We hold him tight, fearing he may leap off our ship. 

We are primed for a great walk around. The town is as quaint as you might expect: cobblestone streets, flowers everywhere, ancient buildings dating back to the 11th century, people on motorbikes cruising through the narrow streets, and a famed uneven landscape which gives you a unique perspective to see the town. 

We have to stop to see the Basilica of San Antonino, the oldest Catholic Church in Sorrento. Legend has it that the church was built to commemorate San Antonino when he saved a small boy who was swallowed by a sea creature back in the 6th century. The church is quite majestic inside:

But the most fascinating part is a red wall containing silver talismans, each representing the part of the body that was cured after praying to San Antonino. 

But we have arrived with a purpose. One of the oldest traditions of Sorrento is its Wood Inlay Carvings. Most of the old masters are no longer alive, and the town is filled with workshops and galleries located along S. Cesareo Road, but we are on our way to see a masterpiece within the walls of the Museo Bottega della Tarsia Linnea or the Inlaid Wood Museum. 

Inside this museum, there is a wood carving that defies description. It is quite remarkable considering that it was carved long ago, with what we would consider crude tools. It must have taken these artisans years to create this scene, and we are in awe.

Have you ever seen a scene so delightful, you wish you could jump right into it by some magic process. This is my only explanation for what happens next. Theo, who is content to look on and admire the scene, suddenly, with little or no provocation--other than the work of art itself--pushes off against my stomach with his fierce hind legs, and tries to make a jump for it. Into the scene. Aiming directly for the table with the food: 

Did he think it was real? I am appalled. I hold on tight and manage to keep him from committing the worst kind of atrocity. I try to keep calm and stare at the heart of the nativity scene: 

"You can have a snack if you're that hungry, but you can't eat the wooden food."

His efforts foiled, Theo, of course, pretends that he had no intention of eating the wooden food. But once a gangster, always a gangster!