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.

Theo Time Travels to Regensburg

 I, for one, have always been fascinated by the concept of time travel. What if you could go back and see the way people used to live? Or re-live a day from your childhood? Or meet someone famous who has long since moved on?

It's a dream, some say. It's the stuff of novels.

But . . .

Theo, the gangster cat, has no patience for museums, but he does like to sniff around outside. We posed a proposition to him: let's time travel back to 179 AD, to the center of the Roman Empire. Where the Crusaders gathered in support of the church to a town once called Casta Regina (Fortress by the River). Where you can still see the 12th century bridge the Crusaders marched over. Still see the Port Praetoria, the stone entranceway to the city. Where you can meander through and see one of the most well-preserved medieval towns with the old buildings and cobblestone streets. 

Some call it a miracle. The Allies spared Regensburg during World War II. Many German towns were not so lucky and today are a weird combinations of the new with the old. Not Regensburg.

This is a time travel that is possible. 

Theo agrees. 

"Will there be snacks?" he wants to know.

"Plenty of snacks," Dan assures him.

So, we are off to see the bridge:

We walk through the old town and spy some rather curious oddities--a medieval well, evidence of the crusades on a wall, and medieval patrician houses--tall with narrow lanes--some of the reasons why this town is a UNESCO world heritage site. We also pass an open air market.

 

I promised Theo no churches, but when we see the Regensburg Cathedral, in all its medieval magnificence, we can't resist going inside. 

"Only five minutes. This church . . ." and I blab on and on about why we have to see inside.

 

Theo acquiesces. Five minutes. I half expect him to produce a stop watch with Mickey Mouse's face on it.

As usual, I am overwhelmed by the details. Full disclosure--we spend more than five minutes walking around. Dan plies Theo with his favorite snack. The Regensburg Cathedral, constructed in the 13th century is Gothic in style with twin spires that reach 105 meters, which is over 300 feet high. The cathedral holds the most extensive collection of preserved medieval stained glass dating from the 13th and 14th centuries:

As usual, I try to imagine living in medieval times. No pizza. No Netflix. 

Okay, I agree with Theo. A nice place to visit but I wouldn't want to stay here in the 13th century. I would miss my iPhone too much.

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 Pearl's Tadpoles

 As is often the case with Theo, the gangster cat, and historic buildings, he's more interested in the wildlife and the beauties of nature than furniture and the historical ambiance that makes certain places so special. Tucked away in the Bucks County countryside in Pennsylvania, Pearl S. Buck, the renowned author of The Good Earth lived with her publisher husband and adopted children.

The farmhouse they purchased after their marriage was old. They needed to renovate and expand. Acres and acres of luscious farmland surrounded them. They split their time between a townhouse in NYC during the week and their country estate on weekends. They installed all the latest amenities--running water, indoor plumbing, electricity. Near the kitchen a giant bell was rung to call the children in for lunch.

At that time, Bucks County attracted wealthy and famous New Yorkers who wanted to leave the country behind. Musicians, writers and artists surrounded them including Oscar Hammerstein and James Michener.  

I read The Good Earth years ago in college. Buck was born in the USA but grew up in China so she was more than familiar with the culture and mores. Born from Missionary parents, she spent a great deal of her adulthood in China until it became too dangerous to stay. 

I was impressed by the novel, a best-seller which won the Pulitzer Prize in 1932 and then a Nobel Price in 1938 for her keen depictions of Chinese peasant life. Her house and grounds have been preserved. It is now a destination to visit: 

Dan, Theo and I are given a private tour of her house. We're taken from room to room as we learn her story. Her house is an odd mixture of Pennsylvania farmhouse and Chinese artifacts. 

When I visit her house, I'm even more impressed with how she lived her life. She was a fierce advocate for children, especially mixed-race children, who back in the day were often unadoptable. Over the years she and her husband, true to their convictions, filled their house with the children they adopted. She also used her earnings to start a Foster Home, which she located on her property near her own house. 

She didn't live a perfect life. Controversies surrounded her. But what does all this have to do with tadpoles?

Outside on the side of her farmhouse, there is a stream which leads into a small pond with a bridge, the perfect habitat for tadpoles. 

Before Theo expresses an interest, I know little about them. But a quick search on google reveals that they are the hatched darlings of frog eggs. When they hatch, they first feed off of the yolk of their egg and then swim around in search of algae. 

In the initial stage they have a mouth at one end and a tail at the other. In the course of three to four months, they lengthen, grow front and back legs and begin to metamorphose into frogs.

Theo seems to instinctively know the tadpoles are there. He wanders over to the stream, too close for my comfort, and leans in--his keen cat eyes searching the water for any sign of movement. He's ever curious and like a laser beam, spots the tiny fellows darting here and there.

Theo is not a fan of water, but I issue a stern warning anyway: "The tadpoles are not for eating, Theo, only watching."

Can a cat grunt? Approval or disapproval? I hear something, and then his tail wags, slowly at first, and then with greater velocity. 

He's going to jump in. I can feel it. But Dan is one step ahead of me. He's been watching Theo's signs. The stare. The crouch before the leap.

Dan swoops up Theo, says nothing, but shakes his head, confirming there will be no tadpoles for dinner today.

We walk away, across the field, toward the lovely bamboo that lines the edge of their property. Bamboo is an invasive species, not that hard to cultivate, but still I'm impressed. 

As we leave the property, we make one more stop. Pearl S. Buck is buried on her own property. It is a cool, quiet place. She designed her own headstone with one word only--her birth name in Chinese characters. Quite a statement. Even Theo comes over to pay her tribute. 

Despite the tadpole almost incident, Theo's a good boy at heart. He dutifully sniffs the grasses surrounding Buck's grave. He'll no doubt dream of tadpoles tonight.

Pompei-The Rest of the Story

 

It is crazy to think that we are walking through the streets of Pompei. In case you forget what Pompei is known for: In 79AD a nearby volcano named Vesuvius erupts (for the first time in 1,000 years) and covers the town of Pompei in approximately eighteen feet of volcanic ash. The eruption destroys the town but, ironically, preserves it, which is the reason why we can today stroll through the ruins and reach the center of town.

Experts see the streets as a marvel of engineering, a grid of paved roads, raised sidewalks and stepping stones that people used to stay dry and avoid the traffic:

We pass a property that is both a living quarters and a store that faced the street. I am fascinated by the stone counter with inlaid containers for vegetables, wine, grain or prepared food. It is a glimpse into how people made a living back then.

The buildings that have been unearthed so far still maintain some of their original color. There are paintings on the walls that were preserved; in some the architecture is stunning:

 

There is an original toilet:

How can a place so old be so modern and similar to our life today? I take some random shots to give you a feel for the Pompei of old:

You're probably wondering how Theo feels about this ancient Italian town. Well, it's a hot day in Pompei. The sun blasts down on us, and I'm forced to wear a hat to keep the overactive sun from blinding me. Theo, of course, is decked out in his gorgeous fur. Dan and I take turns carrying Theo. I carry him some of the time. Enough is enough, but with the crowds of tourists surrounding him, we don't dare let him down. He would either disappear in a split second or be trampled on. 

Finally, our very knowledgeable tour guide suggests that we check out the museum on site. Theo nods. 

"It's cooler in there," I promise. 

He wiggles around, anxious to get down on his own four paws.

"Okay. We'll let you down, but don't do anything crazy, Theo."

We pass a display of amulets, teeny tiny medals of gods that people would put into their coffins to insure safe passage:

Theo is on his best behavior. He trots along beside us. There are other tourists, but it isn't as crowded as I think it will be. No chance of being trampled on here.

We pass an assortment of cups and jugs and dishes:

We pass a colorful painting that was hanging on someone's wall:

We pass a shelf resting on a lion statue:

We pass an intriguing series of four plaques, depicting life in Pompei:

"Theo, check this out." I point to what looks like a pancake griddle pan,  glance down, and realize I'm suddenly talking to myself.

"What the hell?" I whisper too loudly.

"He has to be here somewhere," Dan reassures me.

I look right. Dan looks left. I move backwards. He moves forward.

No Theo.

"This is getting to be a habit," I grouse.

"We'll find him."

The end of this story is not dramatic. Theo is cat napping under the display table with the griddle. His eyes are closed. His ears are twitching.

I lift him out and up. "Did you hear us calling you?"

He gives me the stink eye.

"You know, Chucky (the past star of this blog) never would have done something like this. He was so well-behaved when he traveled with us." 

But even as I say the words, I know they're not true. Chuck was a rascal. This is exactly how he would have behaved. A cat is a cat is a cat. There is no doubt about it.