Theo and Mt. Etna

 Years ago I saw one of Mt. Etna's many eruptions. From a distance it looked like the lava was spilling into the blackened sky. Some of the eruptions are harmless, some are not. It is wise not to get too close to where the lava is spilling out. 

Earlier that day, while it was erupting, I was lucky enough to take three different forms of transportation to get up the mountain. I then walked across what looked like a moonscape. The ground was still covered in black shiny glass-like lava from centuries before. 

Finally, I reached my destination. A crack in the earth on the other side of the mountain. I had to climb up a small incline before I had the chance to look down and watch lava flowing by inside the earth. The heat rising up from the crack melted the make-up off my face. It was a moment I would never forget. 

This is not the usual experience you have in other places. It would be considered too dangerous. I learned later the Sicilian Mafia was in charge of this operation. 

Now I am back in Sicily with Dan and Theo to see this notorious volcano. I want to see and show the boys that crack in the earth so they can see the flowing lava. 

We must ride part way up the mountain by car. The road winds its way up the mountain. Then at a certain point we'll meet our guide and walk the rest of the way up. This is not the way I went up the mountain the first time. Clue #1

The scenery is spectacular as we wind our way up the mountain. Everything looks lush, alive. 

We pass stands and stands of white birch trees. I don't remember them from the last time. Clue# 2

The higher we travel up Mt. Etna, the more spectacular the views. We can see the top of the mountain in the distance, where four or five craters exist. Now it's only spewing steam, but it still looks impressive. Again, there were few spectacular views the last time. Clue# 3

Then we begin to see the evidence of the many prior volcanic explosions. The black lava shows how far it has come down the mountain in previous eruptions. 

We have plans to meet our guide at a rest stop. We arrive and get out. Theo is itching to get out and run around and sniff. I feel that he'll have a much better experience if he knows something about Mt. Etna. 

"Theo, Etna is a very special volcano." 

We tell him everything we know: 

Mt. Etna is an active stratovolcano on the east coast of Sicily. It is one of the tallest, active volcanoes in Europe. It covers an area of 459 square miles. It is also one of the world's most active volcanoes and is in an almost constant state of activity. In 2013 it became a UNESCO World Heritage Site. 

Most eruptions occur at the summit. Some occur on the flanks of Etna, where there are over 300 vents ranging in size from small holes that emit steam to large craters hundreds of feet across. The flank eruptions are more dangerous. Since 1600 AD there have been 60 flank eruptions. Interestingly, the first recorded eruption of Etna was 396 BC. The historic record is filled with accounts of eruptions by scholars, writers, soldiers, and historians.

You never know if Theo is really listening. We watch him roam around and make a beeline for the lava on the ground. 

"Theo, we are in a magical place." 

That is true, but it is also a place of danger. I think about the crack in the earth. And I worry. Is this such a good idea?

We meet our guide and begin our trek up the mountain. She poses near a boulder that was kicked out of the mountain during an eruption. 

As we get higher and higher up, the path narrows in places and becomes quite slippery. Dan grabs hold of Theo, just in case. If you slip, you can literally fall off the mountain. 

All our hearts beat a little faster.

I say to our guide, "Does the mafia still run things around here?"

She looks confused, even a bit shocked. Clue #4

I then mention to the guide what I want to see. Now she looks at me as if I'm crazy. "That is no longer a possibility for tourists. You have to be a trained professional to get anywhere near that close."

I feel a mixture of disappointment, but some relief. 

"Don't worry. There are some great views on top," she assures me. 

After all the bragging I did, I know Dan and Theo will be disappointed, too. I couldn't be more wrong.

Dan, who is afraid of heights, is doing everything he can to stay on the mountain. He is not a fan of narrow slippery trails. Theo is happy just sniffing his way up the mountain. How many cats can brag that they've sniffed the actual Sicilian lava?

Our guide is right. The views are spectacular. The lava is everywhere.

When we reach the top, we see the crater in the distance. 

All in all, we are satisfied. I have my memory of the flowing lava, Dan made it down the mountain alive, and Theo is gobbling up snacks in the back seat of the car.  Another sort of perfect day.

Theo Guards an Agriturismo

 We love Italian history and the pieces of the past that surround you when you visit Italy--the statues, the old buildings and fountains. You can step back in time and imagine life as it was. But we are also fascinated with how Italians live now. That is why we are spending an afternoon with Aldo.

Aldo runs an agriturismo in Salina, the largest of the Aeolian Islands south of Sicily. 

Salina is known for its capers and Malvasia wine. It is also where Il Postino, a famous Italian movie, was shot. Aldo lives with his sister, daughter and cousin. He's a spry eighty year old, who is usually working seven days a week from dawn to dusk. His vast piece of land up a mountain--plenty of death defying winding roads to reach it--comes with an old farmhouse, a field full of capers, fruit trees, flower bushes, vineyards, and chickens. 

He lives off his land and sells his products. By law, 50% of the products he uses and sells must be home grown.  

Aldo is determined to give us the full "farm experience." Dan and Theo go with him to the fields to gather the capers, of course. It is the first step in the rather laborious process of curing the capers before sale. Later he'll show us how the capers are salted then rinsed. 

I stay behind with his sister and daughter to prepare lunch which we'll eat at a long table on a porch that is protected from the sun but open to the air. It is nothing fancy.

This is a neat experience for me--to watch real Italians cook. We're preparing pasta with wild fennel pesto and zucchini sautéed in olive oil. A few anchovies will be added for flavor. 

We wash, chop, and slice. The sister is the head chef. She tells everyone what to do. I am nervous. She speaks in a rapid Italian that takes me a minute or so to make any sense of. Occasionally the daughter will chime in. She speaks a little English. The aroma of the fennel is intoxicating. 

Then before lunch Aldo takes us up a long and winding upward path to where the chickens are. 

He's got around 40 chickens and one oversized rooster behind a fenced in area. 

Our job is to collect the eggs into a basket. (Somewhere along the line I imagined this was going to be fun, but never anticipated that in June in Italy it is hot. Hot.) 

Finally, we sit down to eat. The pasta is delicious. Wine is poured. There is something truly miraculous about this afternoon. In Italy. Eating homemade pasta. Looking out over fields that seem to go on forever. 

And what about Theo? He's fed up with being inside, in museums, looking at things on the other side of glass. He wants to be outside and sniff. But he doesn't like the smell of capers. Aldo manages to find him some cut up chicken which Theo gobbles up so fast you would think he didn't have breakfast. Which he did. Then he rests by my feet on the cool cement floor, in the shade, with a gentle breeze blowing in. Until . . .

Who can anticipate these things? A stray cat wanders by and meows. Before he even makes an appearance, Theo rouses himself and looks around. Can he smell him? Then, of course, Theo sees him. Now Theo at home is a guard cat. Come around our house--if you're a cat--at your own risk. His tail expands, he smacks at the patio door glass, and glares. Will he act the same? Is he intent on guarding Aldo's agriturismo? 

I grab hold of Theo (just in case) and, of course, he struggles to be free. 

"I'll handle this," Dan announces, slowly rising from his comfortable chair and reluctantly leaving his wine behind. He disappears. I know the drill. Keep Theo occupied for a few minutes. Distract. A few minutes go by. Theo is napping again at my feet. Dan still doesn't return. Where the heck is he?

He's made a friend. The stray enemy cat is, of course, the cutest, friendliest, and most cuddly cat you'd ever want to meet. He is all over Dan.

 

For a minute we consider if we should arrange a greet and meet. Would Theo appreciate meeting an Italian cat? We think of the advantages. We think of the obstacles. We know Theo. 

"He's taking a nap." I shrug my shoulders.

"Yeah, it's probably not a good time."

Dessert is zeppoles. The sister deep fries pumpkin dough with raisins (like a donut) and covers it with sugar. Sweet. Light. Airy. It hits the spot. 

Aldo talks about his struggles. Besides the capers and the eggs, he sells jams made from the fruit from his orange and lemon trees. But his biggest concern is keeping the farm in the family. Who will run it when he can't do it anymore? 

In Italy, many things are different, but some things are remarkably the same. Parents and kids. Stray cats struggling to survive. Guard cats who won't give an inch. And life goes on.

The Miracle of Paestum

 Greek temples in Italy? If you need confirmation as to how crazy the world can be, visit Italy where you'll find more Greek temples than in Greece. 

Historians in the know report that during the eighth century BC, ancient Greeks settled along the coasts of the Mediterranean Sea and founded more than 500 Greek colonies, scattered along the shores of the Black Sea, southern Italy, Northern Africa and the coasts of southern France and Spain. They built temples to honor their gods. 

We wanted to see for ourselves what historians call a miracle.  

Sure enough--for some unexplained reason, the Romans did not destroy three well-preserved Greek temples. Centuries later, the miracle continued. During WWII, American (136th Infantry Division) and British forces arrived to liberate Italy. Salerno was the landing point where the Americans fought the Germans for control. The American soldiers slept in those same temples. The fighting caused some damage, but still the temples survived. 

They are a marvel. When you first see them, they seem surreal--as if you've stepped back in time. Imagine a field of grass and rock and dirt, where larger stones lay on top. This is what excavation looks like, a slow process of uncovering what lies beneath. Paestum is approximately one half mile wide. So far, the Italians have excavated only one fifth of that area:

 

In the distance you see a stone archway. 

Further on, you spot your first temple. Doric style. Built in honor of Hera, one of the Greek gods, in 600 BC. Paestum thrived as a democracy for 200 years.  

To the left is the second temple built in honor of Hera. Again remarkably well-preserved.

  

I'm not an expert on temples, but even I can see the details that remain after thousands of years. It is truly remarkable. 

Theo is with us, of course. He loves being outside, smelling the breezes. Today is not as hot as it usually is in Italy in June. But Theo loves the sun. He seems as entranced as we are. 

You can get up close and personal to these two temples, which isn't always the case when you visit ruins. (You can only admire the Acropolis in Athens, Greece, from afar.) Here you can climb up and walk inside the temple and touch the stone. You can imagine the awe the peasants would have felt to witness the size and glory of a building. 

Theo is having the time of his life. I suspect things are only real to him if he can sniff them. After a few minutes, we have to usher him along. There is still one more temple to see. And the amphitheater.

The third temple (far to the right) is dedicated to Athena. Unfortunately, barriers are erected to keep tourists from going inside. What happens next is our own darned fault.

Theo thinks you can sniff any ruin. Any temple. He doesn't quite get the context of barriers which means keep out. A barrier is just an obstacle that he can easily overcome. In this case, he slides through and is standing in the forbidden zone. 

This is going to be tricky. 

"What do you think we should do?"

Now the barriers are not ten feet tall. Dan can scoot over one in an instant. We look around. A few people are milling about. A horde of tourists are still over by the Hera Temple. We have a few minutes yet to solve the problem.

"I don't see any guards."

Still Dan is reluctant to go into the forbidden zone. Would Italians think it's cute that we're rescuing our cat or would they see us as temple terrorists and arrest us? I can see the headlines now . . . 

"Theo," he calls. "Snack time."

Who says Theo doesn't understand English? Or recognize the sound of his favorite dried food rustling against the small plastic container we're holding. 

"Shake it again."

That's all it takes. Theo loses interest in the temple and slides back through the barrier. We hightail it over to the amphitheater and sit down to snack. 

As we're leaving, we take one last look behind. The Athena Temple stands there in all its glory, and we're sure it's destined to remain for at least another thousand years.

Theo and the Italian Carousel

 This is not my first time in Rome. Over the years, I've arrived and conquered (as they say), taking time to explore all my usual haunts--The Spanish Steps--and never missing a chance to walk through the Villa Borghese Park. It literally sits behind The Spanish Steps on the grounds of what used to be an old vineyard. It was commissioned by a pope. It became a public park in 1908. It covers 60 hectares or approximately 2,000 acres.  And it is considered Rome's favorite park.

In the summer it is the perfect place to explore, especially if you're traveling with a cat who longs to be free and roam wide. Theo wants out of the backpack and down on the ground. He wants to sniff, sniff, sniff. 

So we climb the Spanish Steps--no easy feat--and turn left. We walk and walk and eventually spot a purple bush along the side of the road--the marker that tells us to begin the trek up another winding road to reach the park.

We're not expecting lush greenery here--not in June in the middle of Rome. There is little rain and the weather is hot. But I am expecting to catch a glimpse of the many antique statues that line the main road. It is astonishing to find such statuary in the middle of a park. 

We don't have the time or energy to walk all 2,000 or so acres, but I do want to show something to Theo. Something he's never seen before. 

"It's a surprise," I tell him. 

He tilts his head, and I know what he's thinking.

"No, it's not food."

I see a little bit of disappointment. 

"But, I promise after you see the surprise, we'll stop for gelato."

Now, Theo is no ice cream fan, but he does love gelato. The taste is different than ice cream, less sweet, and more--dare I say--luscious? And even though Theo can't speak a word of Italian, he does know the word gelato.

"There . . . there it is." 

I have no childhood memories of ever riding a carousel. Maybe that's why I am so enthralled with them as an adult. To me it is a magical place. You climb onboard and around you go. You forget for a moment that you're not really going anywhere, but as you whirl around in a gigantic circle, you lose sight of your family for a moment as the scenery whirs past until they appear again, waving and smiling. 

This carousel is furnished with different forms of transportation. I spot a Cinderella like coach, a mini sport car, and a Choo Choo train.

Theo rushes forward and jumps aboard. He wanders around and, you can guess it, sniffs. The carousel is deserted. Theo has it all to himself. Time goes by. 

"Okay." We've been roving around Rome for hours. We want to walk back to our hotel, clean up and get dinner. 

Theo is moving from the coach to the sport car to the Choo Choo train. He has no intention of leaving his surprise. 

"He's going to sniff every inch of that carousel," I realize with despair.

Dan doesn't like the sound of that. 

"Yeah, yeah." Dan, the hero, walks over, swoops Theo up and begins rushing toward the ice cream stand. Theo shoots me a dirty look, but Dan continues to march along.

And then I get a surprise, too. Some trees in Italy have the most unusual shape. They look like giant tree umbrellas. And one is growing by a palm tree. I can't resist capturing them. It is a sight you'll never see in New Jersey.

Finally, we order a gelato grande. Ordering gelato in Italy is different than ordering an ice cream in America. You get one flavor and one flavor only. In Italy, we can choose three flavors--Pistachio, Crema, and Stracciatella (Pistacchio, Cream and Vanilla with chocolate shreds in it.) Theo loves the Crema. 

While we eat, we stare at the trees. Heaven! And even Theo seems happy, as happy as a gangster cat can be!

Is Theo a hero or a brat?

 Pasquale picks us up from the Rome Airport and takes us to our Hotel on probably the worst day of the year in Rome. The city is host to a marathon that literally runs past our hotel. Pasquale is tasked with outwitting the Marathon authorities so he can deliver us and our luggage as promised. Theo, who is with us, rests comfortably in a backpack, his head lolling around, his eyes closed. 

Pasquale, dressed professionally in nice Italian made slacks and a white long-sleeved shirt that is rolled up to his elbows, is in his early sixties. He knows Rome like the back of his hand. He speaks a little English and is visibly relieved when we ask him to talk to us in Italian because we want to practice.

This request unleashes a wealth of information. Suddenly Pasquale transforms from a reticent driver into a gregarious tour guide, pointing out the various sights we pass as we enter Rome proper and wind through the narrow and busy streets.

Pasquale pretends not to notice Theo, nestled between us. Our driver most likely assumes he is harmless. Theo doesn't growl or meow. I hold a Churos, a special treat for Theo, just in case.

Pasquale talks about his experiences as a driver, answers all our questions, but finally admits he's a dog lover. He's lived on a farm and doesn't see much use for cats . . . as pets. Theo understands English but his Italian is shaky. I hope Pasquale's comment has gone over his head. 

By some miracle, we arrive at Hotel Delle Nazioni, weaving in and out of streets that are temporarily closed and then reopened. We literally have seconds to disembark from the car. It is illegal to park where we have stopped. Pasquale is being a good driver. Dan is in charge of the luggage. I grab my backpack and reach for Theo.

Theo, resistant, backs away from me. He meows. His behavior is so unusual. So odd. For the most part Theo is becoming a veteran traveler. There is no time for questions. I literally pick him up by the scruff of his neck and pull him out of the car, the backpack swinging behind him. He is as surprised as I am that he's being "manhandled."

In the hotel lobby we sit on comfortable sofas, waiting for our rooms to be ready. I'm exhausted and don't have the strength to find out what Theo was thinking. Later, in our rooms, I'll unravel the mystery.

I reach for my iPhone, which should be wedged in the pocket of my pants. It's gone. Nowhere to be found. Everything is in that phone--our air itinerary, our tickets to the Colosseum, maps of the city. I feel physically sick. I know I had it when we met Pasquale. How will I ever track him down? I don't even have his last name.

At that very moment, before my panic overtakes my common sense, Pasquale reappears. He is holding out my phone. It must have fallen onto his car's backseat, then the floor. I jump up and hug Pasquale. I am so grateful. Then I collapse back onto the sofa, grasping my phone like a lifeline. Which it is.

It strikes me then as I glance at Theo's disappointed face. "Is that why you wouldn't get out of the car? Were you trying to tell me . . ." I hold out my phone.

Theo meows plaintively, pitifully--his usual maneuver when he knows he's won that round. Now he doesn't feel like talking. All he wants is a snack from his totally grateful mom. 

Is Theo a hero or a brat? I'll never know.