Theo In Bamberg: Is it fish or a Magical Story?

 Who can resist going to Bamberg, Germany? Located on the Regnitz River, it was the center of the German Enlightenment Period and home to Hegel, a great German philosopher. It is known for colorful timbered houses that date from the 11th to other 19th century, medieval streets that give you a good idea of the layout of a town back then, and a magnificent Cathedral. As we walk around, I try to capture in photos the uniqueness of the houses, the cathedral, the square in front of the cathedral where Germans today hold their annual Christmas market, the famous Rose Garden:

On top of one of the bridges, I capture a panoramic view of the town:

I drag Theo and Dan inside the cathedral. I'm always impressed with the Gothic architecture--the sheer immenseness of size, the statues, the paintings, especially when you contrast it with the poverty that existed for most people who lived in medieval times.

Theo has been remarkably behaved during this entire period. It's almost as if he's in a kind of trance, sniffing the grounds (really loving the rose garden) but tolerating everything else.

Even when I suggest we stop in the museum near the cathedral. I want to point out two more things--an imperial crown and a pair of shoes. Again the contrast.

When you travel with a gangster cat, you have to keep things moving. He can only take so many cathedrals and museums before his little head threatens to explode. 

We leave the museum, and Dan mentions how remarkable it is that the city was spared the worst of the bombing and possible destruction during World War II. I know what's coming.

"Theo, pay close attention to this story."

He gazes up at me. I can see from the look in his eye that he is now thinking of only one thing--lunch. He's hungry. One thing about cats--they have this uncanny internal time clock inside which dictates when they have to eat or else . . .

"Mom, I'm hungry now."

"You can wait five minutes."

He shakes is head with a vehemence I seldom see.

It's time for compromise. Dan agrees to tell the story en route to the restaurant where we promise to order fish.

"Bamberg was supposed to be bombed, but a sudden fog descended on the city, and the bombers were forced to drop their bombs on Wurzburg. Where did the fog come from? Was it the whim of Mother Nature? The locals believe that Queen Kunigunden saved them. She was born in 975, was the empress consort of Holy Roman Emperor Henry II, and for years they ruled the city together. Later she became the revered saint of Bamberg. On that fateful night, the local believe, she spread her cloak over the city and saved it. She is buried in the cathedral."

We arrive at the restaurant, are seated but it isn't until Theo is munching on his trout meunière that he finally concedes it's a great story. 

"How's the trout?" Dan asks.

We look down and Theo has eaten every morsel, but like a true German, he loves a good story almost as much as he loves his fish.  

Theo and the Angel's Leg in Bamberg

 Why do people travel? What is it that they're really looking for? Dan, Theo and I decide to stop in the historic city of Bamberg, Germany, not because it is a UNESCO world heritage site, not because it has some of the greatest examples of medieval architecture in the old part of the town which can make you imagine you've stepped back in time, and not because they brew a concoction of "smoked beer"--all of those would be good reasons. No. I push Dan and Theo to stop in Bamberg because of an angel's leg. A memory I have that haunts me from when I first saw Bamberg years ago.

Let me start from the beginning. Walk through Bamberg and you are immediately struck by its location near a river and the wide variety of houses. They are different than houses in the states. The architecture is old and at times amazingly quaint. They are the kinds of houses you want to see the inside of--the rooms, the furniture.

We walk along a river and I can't resist taking a video of the houses that butt up against the water.

We enter the old town. Statues sit on buildings above doorways:

Or they are just there as you walk along a bridge:

But the most amazing site is that some of the buildings in the old town are decorated with murals that tell a story. I have never seen anything like it. As we pass building after building, sporting angel murals, I am getting more excited because I know the angel leg is close:

Theo, who is usually pretty easy going (as long as there are snacks in the picture) balks. He lets out a big meow as we are going up one street and down another.

"Believe me, Theo, the angel leg is sticking out of a building. You will love it."

Theo knows about angels (no, not from church) but from our Christmas tree which has an angel sitting on top of it every year. He's 

been an eyewitness to Mico (his younger brother) racing across the living room and toppling the angel off her perch. 

But angels on buildings? I don't think he believes me.

Dan is also skeptical. "Do you really think a mural of an angel is all that exciting?"

"Trust me, boys. You've never seen anything quite like this before."

All I remember from the trip years ago is that you have to cross over a bridge so when I spot a bridge, we walk in that direction. From a distance I think I see it:

I walk faster and Dan shouts out, "I see it. I see it."

Impressive as it is, it is not what I want and need to see. "Does that look like an angel's leg to you? That's an entire baby angel."

And then I do see it. The angel leg I've been looking for. "There it is."

It is unusual. Half mural/half statue. A little freaky. "Well," I say in triumph. "Am I right? Isn't this the craziest thing you ever saw on a wall of a building?"

Dan holds Theo up so he can get a better look. 

No comment. Not even a meow.

I turn to Dan. 

No comment. 

"A bust?" I ask incredulously.

"Let's go eat," Dan says. Who can argue with that?

Theo and the Mechanical Clock

 Nuremberg turns out to be very different from what we imagine. You think Nuremberg trials, World War II. You think Zeppelin Field and Nazi propaganda. If you're a real history buff, you realize the critical part Nuremberg played in the Roman Empire.

For Theo, the piece of Nuremberg that captures his attention is the mechanical clock that is part of a 14th century Gothic Church called the Church of our Lady (Frauenkirhen in German) in the Market Square. We arrive there around noon because that's when the excitement begins. The mechanical clock literally comes to life and for several minutes puts on a show. A procession of prince-electors circle a figure of the emperor, Holy Roman Emperor Charles IV. This show commemorates the Golden Bull of 1356, a constitutional document of the Holy Roman Empire. The clock was installed between 1506-1509.

Trumpets on either side of a little door begin playing, announcing the start of the show. Someone tinkles a bell. A little door opens, players come out and circle around--called the running men--and you are transported back to a world before television and computers, radios and airplanes.

Theo is more than mesmerized. Dan holds him up so he can see better. I begin to take the video. The crowd hushes to silence for a split second. We wait. The show begins slow with a preamble of sorts and you have to strain to hear the bell tinkling and soldiers marching over the murmur of the crowd. Part 1:

Clock Tower Show Part 1

My arm is killing me. I stop recording for a moment but Theo, ever anxious to capture the entire show, gives me the evil eye. Okay. Okay. I start up the video again to capture the second half. 

Clock Tower Show Part 2

Theo is crushed when it is over, but later that night, back in our room after an exhausting day, we show Theo the two videos. This is why the gangster cat likes to travel--he snacks at all times of the day and sometimes there are mechanical clocks that harken back to the past. 

Nuremberg-A Quaint Little Town Sort Of

 Despite its reputation for being the host for the Nuremberg trials after World War II, Nuremberg--according to many Germans--is an historic and quaint town that offers a host of hidden gems. Dan and I and Theo of course, are blessed to have as our guide Esther who's lived in Nuremberg all her life. Walking down the streets of the town with her is like going on a treasure hunt with someone who knows where all the hidden gems are buried.

I'm talking tiny details. You walk by and don't see them at first until Esther points a finger and suddenly you can see what makes this town unique--the buildings have wood carvings under windows, massive stone carvings on doors, ornate statues.

Esther leads us to the famous carving of the Passion of Christ now protected by a steel gate to prevent people from tossing coins as offerings, a practice which for years was causing the carving to deteriorate.

There is an amazing recreation of the town in miniature size on a table. I remember a scene from "All The Light You Cannot See" where the blind heroine is taught the lay of the town, how the streets are organized so she can fine her way around by her father by feeling a replica of the village that he builds. 

Dan is obsessed with Albrecht Durer, a German artist, who lived in Nuremberg. This obsession is not because he is a fan of Durer's art. As Dan explains to Theo: Years ago his older brother Henry gave him the nickname Durer. It seems that Henry mistook Durer's first name Albrecht and thought it was "all break." He associated this with Dan who was younger and tended to destroy whatever was in his path (according to Henry.)

Strangely enough, as soon as Dan tells the story, we see signs of Albrecht Durer everywhere. A giant statue sits in the town square:

His house still exists.

Stores have taken his name and made it their own. 

That's where the trouble begins. We are touring around with Esther 

and a few other people, going up and down the streets, careful  to keep her within eyeshot so we don't get lost. Casually she references Durer's house, having no idea that Dan's compulsion will kick in. The famous artist lived in the half-timbered house for twenty years beginning in 1509.

"I have to see the house," he tells me. "To come all the way here and not see the house . . ." 

The house is, of course, down a street we're not going down. "Well, run then and I'll lag behind so you can find us afterwards."

The plan is set but you know what John Lennon said about the best laid plans--Life is what happens while you're busy making plans. And so it is. 

Theo, overhearing the plan, decides out of the blue to run after Dan. I don't realize this until I see a cat who looks suspiciously like Theo two blocks up. 

I'm torn. Do I go after Theo? Do I trust that Theo will follow Dan and be safe?

Meanwhile Esther is moving along, sharing what she knows about Nuremberg (which is a lot). 

Thank God for cell phones and Airalo. I call Dan and alert him that Theo is stalking him. Dan scoops him up and then runs back just in time before we turn onto the main drag.

"Did you see the house?"

Out of breath it takes him a second to answer. He nods.

"And?"

"It was okay."

As for Theo, now back on the ground, he stamps his foot for his promised snack. Yes, that's how we always lure Theo to the good side--a snack. 

Theo Visits Notorious Zeppelin Field, Then Eats Fish

 Nuremberg was famous long before Adolf Hitler decided to take over the city, stage his rallies there and ipso facto turn it into a city that is now best known for the Nuremberg trials after World War II. 

It had an illustrious history which Hitler used to his advantage. We are lucky enough to be touring the city with an expert, who is steeped in Germany history. 

He explains that before Hitler, Nuremberg was the unofficial capital of the Roman Empire. It then became the heart of the German resistance in the 15th and 16th centuries. The Third Reich, referring to Hitler's time, actually means the Third Empire, representing the third attempt, Hitler's attempt, to rule the world. 

It was heavily bombed by the Allies in World War II, which destroyed some of the city. Earlier Adolf Hitler chose Nuremberg  as the site of massive conventions between 1927 and 1938. He held parades here and rallies at Zeppelin Field. 

Grandstands were designed by Albert Speer, Hitler's chief architect, to hold over 100,000 spectators. Still today you can see the stadium style seats on both sides and the podium where Hitler stood.

I am a fan of German history. I remember being reluctant to visit Germany as a tourist, ashamed in part because I am half German.  Once I arrived, I began to understand the history--the good and the bad. I can more clearly see the parallels with today when a charismatic leader tries to wrest control of the government. 

The weather is slightly chilly but the sun is out. After we visit the courtroom, I am anxious to see Zeppelin Field and imagine what took place here. 

Theo is lured on, to behave and be patient, by the promise of a snack, of course, when we visit the open market. It can't come soon enough. There is plenty to choose from, and we let him free, to sniff, to run, to investigate the tables of foods and goods. 

We lose sight of him for a few minutes, but then notice one of the fish vendors has put a plate on the ground covered in what looks like fish. 

We rush over. He's busy with a customer, and it seems Theo (cramming the fish down his throat) is a good marketing scheme. Soon there's a line of people, waiting to buy fish and watching Theo at the same time.

"Maybe the guy promised him a cut of sales," Dan whispers.

"Or more fish," I suggest.

We scoop up our overfed boy and traipse on over to a local restaurant, for--you guessed it--lunch.

Quirky Travel with Theo and the Dragon

 Our trip through Germany is part of an established tour. Day 1 go here. Day 2 go there. You get the picture. Some of the days are better than others. Once in a while, we just have to marvel at how quirky things are from our point of view. 

We are still in Regensburg, but totally on our own. Just drifting around. Theo likes these kinds of afternoons. No pressure. See what you see. We pass by a store called Keramik Werkstatt, filled with odd and quirky ceramic pieces:

We can't resist visiting another museum: Museum Der Bayerischen Geschichte. I know what you're thinking. But this museum is Theo's idea. He wants to see a suit of armor up close so that he can smell it.

He wants to see one of the oddities in the museum--a full sized dragon that comes to life. His eyes open. He gives an authentic dragon growl (I think.) It is mesmerizing. I can't pull Theo away. Scary? Just a bit.

There are other unusual quirky exhibits: an old old fashioned bicycle:

And an assortment of stuffed animals--the taxidermy kind, which frankly freaks Theo out. How you do you explain this to a cat? He takes one look, one sniff, and that's it. 

He wants out of the museum.

Luckily before the afternoon is over, we find a loveliest of lovely sunflower fields. Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. 

And then we stumble upon a glorious view:

The gangster cat is happy again. For the moment.