Theo and Mt. McKinley Revealed

 I'm at a loss to explain why it's so important to see the snow capped top of Mount McKinley when we're in Alaska. I think it all starts when we hear Alaskan after Alaskan say how rare it is to see the mountain top because of perpetual clouds and mist that swarm the area around it. They tell us the sighting of the mountain top is not guaranteed. In fact, they have the statistic at hand--you can only see the mountain top thirty-five percent of the time. The explanation: McKinley (the tallest mountain in North America) is so tall it creates its own weather system and is frequently blanketed by thick clouds. 

We are, of course, determined to see it. As we travel along from Denali National Park to Talkeetna, we constantly look up and over. And all we see are magnificent vistas and a mountain top covered with clouds.

Our driver, at one point, drives us an hour out of our way, convinced that he has the perfect spot to see the mountain. "You don't want to come all the way to Alaska and not see the top of Mt. McKinley?"

Of course not. We're in agreement on that. Inevitably when we arrive home, someone will ask--well, did you see it? 

Theo agrees. We must see the top of the mountain. But all we see are clouds.

We take a train ride to Talkeetna and the train even stops mid-way so we can try again to see the mountain. Everyone around us continues to say--just wait for a few minutes more. I have a feeling that the clouds will drift away and you'll be able to see the mountain. The few minutes turns into an hour or more. No mountain free of clouds. 

I complain to Theo. "This is ridiculous. How spectacular can the sight be?"

Theo shakes his head. 

"All right. All right." 

Finally the train moves again. And everyone seems perplexed. "We don't understand. Normally we can see the mountain top from the train."

We're staying at the Talkeetna Alaska Lodge. We're shown to our room--very spacious, well-appointed with a giant picture window facing toward the mountain. 

Theo is the first one to make the suggestion: "I wonder if we can see the mountain from here." He jumps up on the ledge and pushes the drapes aside with his paw. 

This is the moment I'll remember. We've spent literally the entire day trying to see this darn mountain top without the clouds. It's as if we're under some kind of spell. Now, tired and hot, I figure what are the chances of seeing that mountain?

"Don't get your hopes up."

Theo seems transfixed at the window. 

What can he be staring at?

And there it is--in all its glory. The perpetual clouds have drifted away. The top of Mt. McKinley is finally revealed. I almost choke on the irony. We could have saved ourselves hours of effort if we'd only known that all along we would see that darn mountain from our hotel window. 

There's a lesson is all of this, but I can't for the life of me figure out what it is. Nevertheless, Theo is happy. He's finally seen the top of the mountain! And it is glorious, indeed.

Theo, Seagull Obsessed, Rides the Canal

 A morning canal tour. We arrive in Amsterdam and that is number one on our agenda.

"What is a canal?" Theo wants to know. Should he be excited or not?

"You're going to love it," I tell him, although truthfully I've been in Amsterdam before (to see the Anne Frank house) and have been on these canal tours. I remember being crammed in with a bunch of other tourists on a long, narrow canal boat. 

But how can you not ride on the canal? It is the unique aspect of being in Amsterdam. To see the house boats. To feel the water lapping around you. To see the world a bit different than what you would see in an American city.

As we're arriving, I'm telling Theo all about the canals. And all about the bicycles that fall into the water by accident (or carelessness because the rider has partaken in a little too much . . . well, pot.) Marijuana is legal here. As you walk along, you can smell that distinct odor wafting out of cafes onto the street. 

Dan and I commandeer one row and put Theo near the window. He's busy sniffing, sniffing, totally enthralled by all the Amsterdam smells. Then he looks up. 

Theo has excellent far vision. He can see the magnificent old buildings on land from the water, and then all hell breaks loose. 

Seagulls are flying in the near distance. (His favorite memory of Amsterdam, as it turns out). He jumps up and begins to paw the glass. 

"No, Theo, you're not getting those seagulls."

"I have to do it," he meows, like a true gangster.

I'm half afraid he'll jump out of his seat, run down the aisle, and throw himself into the canal in a vain attempt to get closer so I grab onto him. 

"Can't this canal boat go any faster," I complain.

It meanders along at a snail's pace. Only finally are the seagulls behind us and Theo settles down.

We try to tell him all about the houseboats on the water--how different they are from each other. How plentiful they are on the canal.

I try to tell him about my first visit to Amsterdam--waiting for over an hour in line to go into Anne Frank's house where she lived in hiding for two years. I never knew until then that her house was on the edge of the canal--similar to the ones I see now or that she could see the canal from her window.

We pass other interesting buildings, a bridge, and even other canal boats. But is Theo even looking?

That's the thing about cats. Their priorities are a bit different than ours. It's all about food, birds and squirrels. About sleeping in the sun. About watching the nature channel on TV. 

Canals in Amsterdam? Way down on Theo's list of how he'd like to spend a morning. 

"Wait," I remind, what about the seagulls?"

Theo gives me as much of a smile as he can muster. "The seagulls."

Now his eyes are gleaming with the memory. Perhaps, canals are not so bad after all. 

Is Theo a Van Gogh Fanboy?

 Starry starry night . . . those famous words from Don McLean's iconic song dedicated to Vincent Van Gogh that was so popular years ago. Who doesn't know the name Vincent Van Gogh? Who hasn't heard the tragic story of his life? Who hasn't seen at least one of his paintings in a book or magazine?

Dan and I know we're going to spend the day in Amsterdam. I'm determined to visit the Van Gogh museum. We get tickets months in advance. We arrive early and wait in line. 

Theo, the gangster cat, who is what he describes as being dragged along, knows enough not to mutter a meow. He's no dummy. He knows I'm obsessed with Van Gogh. 

Has Dan bribed him with unlimited snacks? Or does he realize that this is no ordinary museum? Floors and floors of Van Gogh's paintings that you can see close up and eye to eye. They're vibrant and beautiful. He painted with a unique style with a talent few possess. 

I have to literally restrain myself from taking a photo of every painting--the ugly and the sublime. 

Here is the self portrait of Van Gogh (when--I think--he still had two ears although it's hard to tell):

And now his paintings. I love this first one. It shows a working woman in the fields, one of his favorite subjects--to show people the way they really looked, not all glamorous:

And, of course, here is the painting affectionately called the "potato eaters."

This one captures the sea, the boats, the dock . . . the sky. 

I call these the trees paintings . . . all abloom in the springtime. 

This painting is one of my favorites. I have a print hanging in my guest room--the rolling sea, signed boldly in red paint in the corner.

And, last but not least, Van Gogh's sunflowers. I must have stood there for half an hour staring at it, hardly believing the painting I'd seen for years in magazines and books was on the wall in front of me. 

Theo's not amused. I can almost hear him thinking--what's the big deal? Paintings hanging on a wall. 

But, he doesn't object when I buy the print of the angry sea. He says nothing when I frame it and hang it on our wall in the guest room. And then later, after we've been home for a while, I catch him sitting on the bed, staring at it.

And who says a cat can't acquire culture? Could he be a Van Gogh fan boy??

Theo Visits a Medieval Torture Museum

 

Theo is fond of using the word torture. When he wants his snack, and we're not ready to give it, he meows, "It's torture, mom." When Mico steals his favorite spot on the couch, again Theo responds by calling it torture. Somedays he seems to feel his life is, indeed, torturous. If he only knew what real torture is. I get an idea.

Fast forward. We're traveling around Germany and stop in a little town called Rothenburg, known for its medieval charm. After wandering around, we end up in the purrfect place.

Officially the museum is called the Medieval Crime Museum, but it's really all about torture. In the historical legal sense, torture began as part of the criminal system in Europe in the 14th century. When someone was accused of a crime--witchcraft, for example, where there was no proof, a confession brought on by torture was enough.

Public shaming was another kind of torture--chains with scissors attached was hung around the neck of unscrupulous sellers who sold inferior products, masks with chicken feathers were attached to the faces of promiscuous people, etc. Women who gossiped about each other were confined to the public square, one woman's wrists inserted in one side of a cruel wooden device, the other woman's wrists inserted into the other side. Others could see what they've done.

Once through the doors, you're faced with someone who appears to have been tortured--a sad and despairing face. 

Then you're introduced to various forms of torture: the stretching ladder, the rack (both which stretch joins and dislocate bones), the spiked chair, various instruments to put pressure on thumbs, etc to cause pain. There was also the shame mask with iron spikes that gouged the face, worn by men who led a wild life.  The museum houses over 50,000 objects of torture.

The museum offers a slew of torture devices and engravings in books that documents how torture was done. 

Theo is amazingly quiet during our entire tour of the museum. He looks intently through the glass as Dan and I point out various forms of torture instruments and explain how confessions were gotten from people accused of a crime when there was no evidence. 

"Well," I finally say to him, "I brought you here for a reason."

His big little eyes widen even further.

"You want to . . . " Is he thinking we're going to torture him?

"No, Theo, of course not. I want you to understand what real torture is. What you call torture is, well, that's just mom and dad being good parents. You can't get what you want all the time."

He shrugs his shoulders.

"Do you understand?"

"I get it," he meows. "I see."

"So, find another word."

He pauses for a second. "Can I say torture and do this?" He puts his delicately outlined paws into the air and makes air quotes as he meows torture.

Once a gangster cat, always a gangster cat.

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. 

Has Theo Traveled Back in Time at the Roman Forum?

 Years ago when I was in Rome, just strolling along the streets, a friend pointed out a place--a large hole in the sidewalk--where you could see beneath present day Rome to Ancient Rome. I got on my knees and tried to catch of glimpse of Ancient Rome, but it was too dark down there, and I saw nothing. But the idea intrigued me--that modern Rome was built on top of Ancient Rome. How? Why? Well, it seems the Tiber River would flood and overflow its banks, leaving behind a trail of mud and silt that eventually, over the centuries, literally buried Ancient Rome. 

An exception to this natural phenomena was the Roman Forum, which was the center of Ancient Rome, and which was built on a hill. It became the political and religious center of Roman life. It included what we would consider the first Mall for shopping, what they called a marketplace, and the home of the Vestal Virgins, six priestesses who vowed celibacy and whose main job was to honor Vesta, one of the Roman Goddesses. 

We decide to go and see the Roman Forum. Now it was mostly destroyed, too, by earthquakes, weather events, pollution and centuries of architects robbing the stones for their own projects. But enough of the Forum is left to give you an idea of what Ancient Rome looked like, and I mean BC Rome, before Jesus was even born.

The best way to approach this rectangular area of ruins is to see it from the very top by climbing up the Palantine Hill. From that vantage point you can see the area that is nestled among the modern Rome of today. Technically, the Roman Forum at its furthest end bumps into the Arch of Constantine, which is very close to the Colosseum, where the gladiators fought. We take a video of this amazing ruin--at the end you can see the Arch and the Colosseum:

The history of Ancient Rome is long and illustrious. At one point the Romans literally rule the known world. The story is far too complicated to tell here. The Roman Forum evolves over time. We can see fragments of columns that support the main structure of the Forum, statues, parts of brick walls, and elaborate colored tile on the floors. To think that the Roman Forum dates back thousands of years and parts of it still exist today . . . 

There is so much to see. I am enthralled. Amazingly, so is Theo. He seems to have an interest in the Rome of yesteryear. Yeah, he watches, on occasion, the History Channel, but there is something about Ancient Rome that catches his imagination. 

As we traipse from ruin to ruin (thankfully it's a cloudy day and not so hot), Theo's ears perk, his head swivels around.

"This is history," I say to Theo. "Thousands of years ago . . . " The gangster cat is being remarkably cooperative despite the fact that we don't see a bird or a squirrel, Theo's usual distractions. This time there are only tourists and antiquities. 

Until we are set free. We're with a guide and then we have free time. An underground tunnel sits before us. Despite being claustrophobic I like tunnels, and this tunnel is a good size. I imagine we're walking back in time, and when we get to the other side, we'll be in Ancient Rome. 

Theo gladly comes with me. This is his chance to sniff the ancient walls and get a glimpse (from a cat's perspective) of how the ancients lived. I stop and read the placards along the way, keeping half an eye on Theo.

I should have kept both eyes on him. One minute he is walking beside me, then he stops, sniffs and the next minute he's gone. Did he race ahead? Is this a real time tunnel? Is Theo now sniffing in Ancient Rome? 

I rush forward, imaging what I'll see on the other side. My imagination runs a bit wild. But when I emerge, although I'm still standing in the fragments of ancient Rome, I haven't traveled back in time. Theo is just ahead, rubbing himself against Dan's leg. Dan is mesmerized by a stone mound, what is believed to be Julius Caesar's grave. It's actually the spot where his ashes were buried, two years after he was cremated. The mound is the remains of the altar built to honor him in the Temple of Divus Julius. I expect something grander. Still, Julius Caesar is a legend.

Dan teaches Latin. He loves myths. There is a smile on his face a mile wide. He can't believe he's standing in front of where they put Julius Caesar! 

As for Theo, he's hungry. He's had enough of ruins. He wants a snack because he is a cat, after all.