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 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. 

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.

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.