Ancient Burial, the gods and Theo

 Lipari, Italy is known for more than a cathedral and St. Bartholomew's thumb. Dan and I know there's a fabulous museum close by. Now, I like some museums and hate others and sometimes feel totally overwhelmed by the number of objects organized on shelves that you're forced to look at. 

The Museum of Lipari is different. 

Even though it is huge, it is housed in several different buildings, forcing you to make choices. It is primarily Greek artifacts unearthed centuries ago because Lipari was originally a Greek city. Dan and I (and Theo, reluctantly) decide to visit the Pre-historic museum building because it contains ruins unearthed outside the city walls from a Greek Necropolis (yes, a city of the dead). Beginning in 1948, archaeologists discovered 3000 tombs (so far) hidden under approximately thirteen feet of earth. These tombs and what was inside date back to four or five centuries before Christ. That's a long time ago. 

Theo is slightly interested in two facts. One: the bodies were buried back then differently than the method we use today. No coffins. Instead, the remains were usually put into vase like structures that look more like wine canisters. 

Two: the Greeks insisted on being buried with small objects that they believed helped them reach the afterlife. 

The Greeks, back then, literally believed in the gods and the power they had to control the life of humans. One of the most popular was Bachus or Dionysus (his Roman name), son of Zeus, who was the god of wine, festivity, fruit, vegetation, fertility, theatre and religious ecstasy. For the Greeks, theatre was a religious experience.

Therefore, the tombs contained all sorts of neat little objects representing the person's belief in their preferred god, usually Dionysus. 

 

Theo is fascinated. As we walk past shelves filled with all these tiny figurines--statues of people and animals or masks that connect to the theatre--Theo's paw keeps stretching out and hitting glass. He can see them, but he can't touch them. He can't sniff them which amounts to another excruciatingly depressing experience for the gangster cat. The hits become more frenetic.

"Stop that, Theo. Just look. You can't touch."

He gives me a woeful expression. Isn't that the story of my life, he seems to want to say. 

"I think Theo has had enough," Dan says.

"You're right. I think it's time we go and visit Aldo."

Chuck and His Journey to the AfterLife

        What do you do with a cat who has a crazy idea? The rascal cat somehow got it in his head that if he climbed on board an Egyptian solar boat, built and buried for the pharaohs thousands of years ago and now rebuilt and put on display, he could be transported to paradise.

      Yes, that paradise--the afterlife, the land of milk and honey where life is beautiful all the time. 

      I knew that Chuck's misconception was the result of half listening as Dan and I discussed whether we should or shouldn't stop and see this amazing boat. We were in Giza, and after we passed the luscious looking Sphinx, whose sole purpose was to guard all the pyramids:

 it was a hop, skip and jump to reach the Solar Boat Museum. We were only trying to figure out what the archaeologists actually believed was true about this boat.

      The debate centers on whether the boat was built and buried near where the pharaoh was buried BUT was only meant to be symbolic--a way that the pharaoh would ascend to the heavens, after death, to be with his father. OR was the boat built to be actually used during the funeral to move the body of the pharaoh in the river to the pyramid, where he was buried. 

     Some scholars claim there was evidence the boat had been in water. Other experts point to the fact that shavings of cedar and acacia found in the pit where it was buried indicate it was located near where the pyramids were.

     To further complicate the matter, the boat was the right size to serve as a river craft, but a mast was never found. 

      Chucky doesn't care about any of these arguments. He latches on to one fact and one fact only. The pharaoh used this boat to get to paradise. 

       We are walking along the side area that is set up for visitors to view the assembled boat, which is massive. You have to figure the boat was built for a pharaoh. The pyramids were gigantic. The boat would have to be super sized too. 

        There are a few people around, but not many. This is not a very popular exhibit. Chucky is itching to get down, but we're nervous that if we let him loose, he'll actually make a jump for the boat. 

        The kid always has had a super active imagination. 

        Dan tries to assuage my anxieties. "Chuck is very pragmatic. He's not going to make a jump for it. He'd never make it and most likely plunge to his death. He'll just stare at that boat for awhile. He'll reach his own conclusion."

        I'm not as confident. We're talking about a kid who's climbed a palm tree. Who climbed into a space capsule. 

        Dan is in the process of setting Chuck down. My heart is beating furiously. I wedge my body between Chuck and the boat. I have to think of something to say to him to convince him that getting on that boat is a bad idea. I need a powerful argument. 

        Chucky is leaning to the right to look around me. He is clearly fascinated with this boat.  Is he dreaming of his journey to the afterlife?  

        I decide in a last minute desperate attempt to keep my cat alive that I will go along with this ridiculous idea.

       "O.K. Chuck, but, just know. There's no coming back. You'll never see me or dad or Jack (his brother) again."

        Chucky shrugs.

        "O.K. You'll never get another . . . snack again." I put on a very sad face. 

        Dan echoes my statement. "Not another snack again."

        I repeat. "No more snacks."

       And then I do, what I think I'll never do, I step aside. 

        Chucky walks to the edge and stares at the boat. Then he turns and comes back to us. He doesn't say a word. I heave a sigh of relief. 

        Dan says, "I think he should get two snacks when we get home."

        "Absolutely," I agree. I pick up this rascal cat and give him a big hug. 

        It's only later, as I mull over the facts of the incident, that I ask Dan in the car going back to the hotel, "Do you think he really was going to jump or was he just playing us?"