Theo and the Cats Playing Chess

 Yes, I have to admit we're still in Passau, an old (very old) town on the Danube River in Germany. And I have to admit something else--I'm a sucker for museums that claim to have ancient artifacts that can give you--however slight--a glimpse into the past. Passau--once occupied by the Romans--has a history that extends back to 50 BC. So when archaeologists route around in the ground looking for remnants of this long storied past, they are bound to come up with just about anything.

Dan, I and Theo decide to visit the Veste Oberhaus, a history museum, which is on a hilltop fortress dating to 1219. It has an extensive collection of artifacts dating back to the beginnings of Passau.

The artifacts are organized from the earliest finds to the later finds. 

An early piece of pottery where you can see the intricate designs.

An early nail:

Early gold coins:

An early statue of St. Stephen:

And what gets me super excited--one of the first original safety pins. I assume that Theo will be excited too. He is kind of into history. He knows what a safety pin is. But he barely gives it a second glance. Oh, yeah, he is one restless little guy. Museums are not his thing.

We move into the next section--all about war with the typical artifacts that you would expect to see if you know anything about ancient warfare: a suit of mail, helmets, decorated drums for the soldiers to march to, cannon balls, and a large assortment of rifles.

We realize at this point that we can't see the entire museum. It is just too big. We have to make choices. I love anything that reveals the social mores of the time. 

"Wow, look at this," I say to no one in particular. Dan and I are facing one of the ways society punished people, especially women, when they gossiped, or stole, or did even worse. I try to imagine what that would have been like--forced to stand in a public square with that contraption around your neck and your hands. 

In the next exhibit we are facing two horse statues pulling a cart with a passenger, representing the common mode of transportation. It is huge. I turn around to Theo to point it out. He's gone. 

 

This is a fabulous museum, but it it not crowded. Maybe we've passed five people since we got inside. The museum leads you around from exhibit to exhibit. It is kind of like following the yellow brick road. Theo has to be ahead of us.

Of course. There he is staring up at what I would guess is his favorite exhibit. Two cat statues are facing each other and playing some kind 

of board game--checkers? No, it has to be chess. Maybe living in the olden times wasn't so dull after all. Theo agrees.

Theo--Not a Fan of Cathedrals

 On tour, at times, travelers with a gangster cat can become a bit overwhelmed (especially in Germany) by all the churches and cathedrals. A friend of mine once said--if you see one cathedral, you've seen them all. Sometimes I sympathize with that comment. But at other times, I don't. I can be overwhelmed by the grandeur of a cathedral, especially when you compare that grandeur to the simple houses of ordinary people who lived in that time period. 

The churches can be gigantic in size, with marble floors and stained glass windows, decorated with works of art, gold trim--the quintessential example of Gothic architecture. This is my long winded way of saying that I am so impressed by St. Peter's Cathedral that I can't move on until I share some of what is inside this space. Theo vehemently disagrees and resents every second we spend walking around and gawking. 

I love the story behind this cathedral. Initially it's built to honor St. Peter (the apostle) in 700 AD but, unfortunately, it burns down in 1156. Beginning in 1273, the process of rebuilding begins, but it's not finished until 1872, six hundred years later. 

Why does it take so long? Well, let me share some of what is inside to illustrate what you see inside:

I note the crucifix adorning a tomb, the statue in the alcove, the small intimate space devoted to Mary, the ornate columns on the wall. Every image tells a story of devotion. 

Dan and I take turns keeping Theo happy. The question is how many snacks can one cat eat? Theo explains quite simply, "I need energy, mom."

We continue:

I tell Dan I hate to leave. There is so much to see. But we've run out of snacks, and Theo is becoming jumpier with every minute we delay. He wants to be put down on the floor so he can sniff. He wants to wander over to the statues and play hide and seek. And he probably wants to take a nap in the cozyish alcove honoring Mary.

"Remember, you wanted to come on this trip. Think of how Chucky would have acted. He was always . . ." but I stop mid-sentence. Chuck, the rascal cat, had his moments, too, when he rebelled. "Never mind, Theo, you're doing just fine," I end up saying.

Theo and the Holy Cafe

 Immediately we sense that something is different. We walk into a restaurant across the street from St. Stephen's Cathedral. It is a small cafe with a unique interior: exposed pipes, old fashioned lights that remind us of our lamp in our den--bare bulbs Thomas Edison style.

Our table has three chairs as if someone knew we were bringing Theo along, who sits quietly in the beginning. I think--maybe we're going to be able to have a good lunch. 

A waiter comes over with the menu and doesn't blink an eye when he sees Theo. Dan order the daily special--loin of pork with stuffing and a rich brown gravy, Bavaria style. I order a flatbread with onions, bacon and cheese. The flatbread is as thin as a Holy Communion wafer they give out during Catholic mass.

As we're waiting, Dan reads the brochure on the table and translates the German. This cafe is a Holy Cafe, owned and operated by the Cathedral across the street. Clergy, people who work in the cathedral, and people who attend Mass eat there. The portions are large and the price is right.

As I wait for my food, I ponder the idea of a holy cafe. Is the food blessed before it is served to the parishioners? Do they make you say a prayer before you eat? The waiter delivers the food, and as Dan is staring down at his meal and Theo is gawking at it, sniffing and sniffing, I see the waiter make a quick sign of the cross and then before I can say a word, he pulls a flask out of his pocket and sprinkles water on the meal. 

Dan sees nothing. I see everything. He's too busy examining the bottle of regular water.

"Did you see that?"

"What?"

"I thought I saw him . . . I know I saw him . . ." but I stop. Dan already thinks I'm a bit crazy. Will he even believe a waiter would bless the food with holy water?

I look over at Theo. He is staring now at Dan's food. Did he see it, too? The blessing bestowed upon the pork? The flask? The water?

He gives me one of those glances that seems to say-hey, what's up with this? But then he does a little shake and meows. Is it more important to eat the food than discuss catholic rituals? 

The food is delicious. Dan gives Theo some of his pork, so he's happy. He doesn't seem to care if his food is blessed or not.

"So this cafe is actually run by the church," Dan says to our waiter as he grapples with the idea. 

Our waiter points to some other patrons. "They just went to service."

We glance around, but honestly they look like ordinary people.

Before we leave, I follow the waiter's instructions to the bathroom. That's when I'm convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt. The sink is gold-plated. I'm not kidding. Later I think--I should have taken a photo of this. No one is going to believe it!

"What a great meal," Dan says.

Theo has finished and is now licking the gravy off his mouth and whiskers. 

I, born and raised a Catholic, am astonished. "This is the first time I've ever eaten in a holy cafe." As we're leaving, Theo is bouncing around more than usual. Dan is in a good mood. I'm trying to see if I feel any differently. And, maybe, perhaps I do.

PS We'll be off next week--busy traveling. 

Theo Cold Shoulders St. Stephen's Cathedral

 In honor of our brother-in-law Stephen who is married to my youngest sister Cyndi, we're determined to visit St. Stephen's Cathedral in Passau, Germany, named after St. Stephen, a Christian martyr who was stoned to death. Even though we're not fans of organ music, when you have the opportunity to hear one of the world's largest pipe organs with 17,774 pipes--you listen. St. Stephen's Cathedral dates back to the 17th century where it underwent a reconstruction after it almost burned to the ground. Formerly it was constructed in the Gothic style. The renovation introduced the grand Baroque style. Think fancy and gold. Think bling.

"Are you excited to see the inside of the church?" I ask Theo.

No. The answer is no. As we trudge closer and closer to St. Stephen's, Theo finds every excuse to delay. He is interested in every bird he spots along the way and wants to investigate. Because he is a cat.

He spots a squirrel, and he needs to investigate him also.

Then he's starving. He needs a snack. We have to stop and pull out some of our dried cat food we keep on hand, just in case. I expect him to scarf it down, but instead he eats each morsel carefully and slowly.

"I know what you're doing, Theo. Speed it up." He doesn't. 

Then we're on the move again. I point out some highlights of the city. I love to capture those special bits that make the city unusual, different, that remind us that in these old places they used to put angel statues on building walls.

We follow a brightly colored stone path that leads to the artist's quarter:

We see a bat suspended from a building in an alley and a king with a scepter on the wall of another building:

We pass a beautifully decorated clock tower and then a mosaic of three lions holding up a drawing of another lion. 

Finally we reach the cathedral and take a minute to admire the odd style with its quirky decorations.

The cathedral is closed. There is a mass going on and no one (no tourist, they mean) is allowed inside the church. 

I can't believe it. These are things beyond our control. I'm shaking my head in frustration when I glance down at Theo. An ugly thought pops into my head.

"What did you do, Theo?"

He looks up at me--all innocence.

I get ahold of myself. Of course, he couldn't have done anything. But he looks so self satisfied, sitting there, staring at the cathedral as if he has performed some miracle, or did he wield some dark magic?

"I'm so disappointed," I say to no one in particular.

But Theo doesn't seem the least bit concerned or disappointed. He wants to eat again. 

"Let's go to lunch," Dan suggests.

We are in for the surprise of our lives . . . tune in next week.

Theo Cruising the Danube

 

Most of us hear the word cruise and think--yeah!!! That sounds like fun. Theo, the gangster cat, thinks--why would I like a cruise? His question comes out like a low-sounding growl meow. 

The truth is we hated leaving the Schonbrunn Zoo and Vienna. But a leisurely cruise down a portion of the Danube River where we do nothing but relax and watch the sometimes gorgeous and sometimes baffling scenery can't be all bad. Can it? 

The Danube River is Europe's second longest river, which flows through Germany, Hungary, Austria, Slovakia, and Serbia. We'll be traveling on only a small portion of the river (in Germany) for the next few days and making stops along the way. 

We're not quite sure what we're going to see, but we're prepared for anything. Theo is, of course, skeptical that we'll spy anything of interest. I disagree. He counters that this cruise is a giant opportunity to take a long and well deserved nap. 

"But . . . you're going to miss out on some really great stuff," I tell him. "How about if we wake you up if we roll by anything spectacular?"

He doesn't agree and he doesn't disagree. Why are so many of our compromises with Theo based on an uneasy truce?

Imagine Dan and I in deck chairs on the top deck. We have a perfect view of the river and the river bank. Theo is nestled on the deck between us, on top of a cozy blanket. He settles in and his eyes immediately snap shut. Is he really sleeping or only cat napping?

We pass our first noteworthy, not so noteworthy site:

What is it? It looks like a dilapidated house so it must be a ruin. No, don't wake Theo for this.

Ah, this is more like it. The kind of village where you want to walk around--the picture perfect antiquish town--cobblestone streets, old churches--a glimpse into the way life used to be. I turn to shake Theo awake, but Dan stops me with a quick shake of the head.

Regular people houses. So this is what a contemporary Danube River house looks like. I like the red roofs. Should we wake Theo? Dan votes no.

 

It takes us awhile to figure this one out. We see the large protruding rock but what is that underneath? Some kind of statue? It must be. 

And finally some greenery. We know the land near a river is often fertile and perfect for planting vineyards. Wine and more wine. We think this is what we see. Still, Theo is no wine drinker. We leave him napping.

We see more of the same---picturesque houses, beautiful scenery and a lovely terraced vineyard that is eye-popping. Theo is fast asleep.

Parts of the river is, well, just river stuff. 

And then, we get the view that we can write home about. Surely, Theo will relish this one. He has to see this one, I think. Dan looks skeptical.

"Let the kid sleep."

"But this one will make his day," I insist.

"Will it?"

You tell me. Should we have woken Theo up for this view?

Theo Decides Elephant, Hippo or Koala Bear

 We have never seen him happier. As Dan and I move from exhibit to exhibit in the Schonbrun Zoo, Theo comes to life. I know cats can't smile, but the look on his face--the way he keeps opening and closing his eyes, the way he skips along the path eager to see the next animal, the way he stares as if he's willing himself to slip into each enclosure--to get closer--says it all.  

I love elephants. Years ago on safari in Kenya, I sat in a safari truck as hundreds of elephants sauntered past. You could hear them passing but no one was afraid. Nowadays elephants are rarely found in zoos. They need a lot of room to live, and most zoos don't have the space. I'm both thrilled and concerned that Schonbrun has an elephant. I try to explain the dilemma I find myself in to Theo.

"Even though this elephant lives in a big enclosure, is it enough room? That's my worry. But I'm glad that anyone coming to the zoo can see an elephant. Maybe people will care more when they hear the tragic stories of how elephants are disappearing on the plains. They'll be more aware."

Theo half nods, his face pressed against the rails, as he stares at the elephant:

We take a few minutes to stand and watch:

We move on and check out the hippos. They are big and eat large amounts of food--a single watermelon in a single gulp--and they seem harmless enough prowling around in their exhibit. But there's another side to the hippo.

I tell Theo, "They are considered the most dangerous animal on the plains. They can run fast on the land. It's only safe to view them from a distance and never up close. Even though you'll often see them floating in the rivers in Kenya, their heads just above the water, their eyes resting on top of the water, it's still not safe to be so close. Most tourists are accompanied by guards with a rifle, just in case.

Seeing them this close is a real treat. Watching them eat. Move.

Finally, we move on to the koala bears. The last time I saw a koala bear in a zoo was years ago in Washington, DC. They look so cute from afar, but I remember the zoo attendant, holding a koala in her arms. She showed us the scratches on her arm, a gift from the koala. Koala bears are bears after all. 

"Okay, which one is your favorite, Theo, the elephant, the hippo or the koala bear?" I know what my answer would be (elephant).

 He smiles. 

"Which one? Inquiring minds want to know."

"The lion."

And on we go to the next exhibit to see the lions.