Bunny Heaven in the Cloister

 Despite the almost turtle drowning, Dan and I (with Theo grumbling beside us) continue mosying around and investigating the 400 year old cloister in Valletta, Malta. Even though this cloister used to be a palace, there's nothing elaborate here, but the stone walls are quaint and soothing. 

We visit a room where the sisters did their ironing and mending. 

We visit a room filled with ovens for cooking and baking.

There is also a room that the nuns used to prepare rose water, known as Melissa. They used a wine making machine to distill rose petals, adding crushed rose leaves, red wine and other herbs. Rose water had a wonderful lemony aroma and attracted bees. It was used for its anti-inflammatory properties and to soothe and hydrate skin. 

We look up and notice the religious decorations that surround us--the various statues of saints, of angels affixed to the stone walls. 

We are so engrossed in trying to understand a lifestyle that is so different from ours that we don't notice that Theo has gone unusually silent. "Theo silence" usually means he's plotting something. I look around to make sure that all is well, but Theo isn't there. Another cat has taken his place. It's as if a magic spell has occurred. A young skinny cat is walking between Dan's leg, where Theo was just moments before. What?

There are only two possible explanations. Theo has turned into another cat (highly unlikely but this place does give off some unusual vibes) or Theo has walked off and by pure coincidence, another cat has appeared. Out of nowhere? 

This cloister is a big place. Theo could have wandered anywhere, but there's usually a method to his exploring. If only we can figure out what it is. What would he be interested in? Besides food . . .

We glance at the cat who is looking up at us. As if he's trying to tell us something. "Let's follow this guy and see where he leads," Dan suggests.

Sure enough, as if on cue, the cat takes off across the courtyard and down a hallway. He's wandering to a part of the cloister we haven't seen yet. Frankly it's a part we didn't even know existed. Dan and I hesitate. Are we really going to follow a cat?

Don't judge. 

Finally it all becomes clear. The cat does live there. Volunteers arrive every day and feed him. And where is the cat taking us? To a little bit of bunny heaven. Of course, that's where Theo is. Somehow he sniffed out the bunny smell and without saying a meow, he followed his nose. 

I want to say--"You're in big trouble." But I also feel an immense sense of gratitude that Theo is here, unharmed. I want to pick him up, but I hate to disturb him. 

Theo is mesmerized by the treasure he's found. He's got his full face in between the slats of the cage and he's watching the bunnies. 

Let him have his fun. Theo is safe. After a few minutes, we scoop him up, remind him he can't take a bunny home with him, and we leave the lovely and cool cloister.

The only question lingering in my mind is--how did the cloister cat know we were looking for Theo? How did he know where Theo was? Was it a lucky guess, or was there something more mysterious going on? 

I turn to say thanks, but he's gone. Without a meow, he led us to the bunnies, to Theo, and then he left. Mission complete. I try to get some answers out of Theo, but all he says, "I did what I had to do." His usual Theo response, but now I think I understand.

To Bribe or Not To Bribe

 For so many travelers, if their bucket list includes Italy, it usually means looking at something old, ancient. Even when you're trying to discover how Italians live today in 2024, their lives are still intwined in the past--old historic buildings and statues and left over temples from when the Greeks invaded. 

Today we decide, just the three of us, to stay in the tiny town, south of Puzzuoli on the coast of Italy, called Baiae. In the day--and I mean many moons ago--Baiae was the getaway vacation spot for the rich and famous of Rome. They would pack up and stay in their luxurious villas, which they built near the sea. (We already visited one such villa, Villa Ambulatio.) It sounds like a good idea. After all, I live in a state which celebrates its shore towns and beaches.

Unfortunately, by the 1500's Baiae was abandoned and then covered by water from the nearby shallow waters of the bay. It seems the water level rose ever so slowly due to volcanic vents that were in the area. Today, if you are a fan of snorkeling or riding in a glass bottom boat, you can see some of those remains, captive in the bay. They call it the city under water. 

The ruins are one reason for visiting Baiae. The other reason is to get a glimpse of modern Italy. Because Baiae fronts a bay, the water views are stunning. There is a promenade you can walk along and feel the cool bay breezes:

We also catch a glimpse of that infamous mountain that rose up in one day because of the unsettled ground near Puzzuoli. 

In the center of the town, there is sign for an ancient temple, which once stood there. In reality, it wasn't a temple but an open market. But I love how modern Italy built itself around the old.

Even today open markets are extremely popular in many small Italian towns. There is usually one day a week where the market is open--selling everything you can think of--local produce, meats, cheeses, to clothes, shoes, and household goods:

I remember years ago staying with my girlfriend's sister in Rosignavo Salvo (near Pisa) and visiting an open market in their town. Often the cost of clothing is prohibitive in the usual brick and mortar stores, so Italians believe they can get a better deal buying their clothes this way. I remember stepping into the back of a large pickup truck, which acted as a dressing room, to try on something I wanted to buy. 

I can't resist this time either. Theo follows along, sniffing every stall we visit, remarkably well behaved, watching the people as they pick up and inspect item after item, deciding whether to buy it or not. 

"Stay right here near me, okay?"

Theo glances up and it's hard to tell if he's listening or has any intention of doing what I ask. 

"I mean it."

He meows, which I interpret as he will control himself.

I spot a lovely blue tablecloth with a large sunflower on it. Can I use this? It's not wrinkle free, and I will dread ironing it every time it comes out of the dryer. Should I take it? As a memento? 

"Where's Theo?" Dan is not a shopper, but he's been hovering around a nearby table filled with Italian snacks. (Which means neither one of us has been keeping an eye on Theo.)

"He was here a moment ago, and I warned him to stay put . . ."

Famous last words. Haven't we learned by now that watching Theo is a 24 hour job. Get interested in your surroundings, get distracted for a millisecond and the kid seems to disappear into thin air.

"There he is." Dan points to the next stall selling more snacks. Of course. Theo blew me off, sauntered over to investigate--his nose going 240, sniffing the aromatic smells of Italian delicacies. 

"Theo." There is a sharpness to my voice. 

He doesn't budge.

"Theo."

"He hasn't done anything wrong," Dan reminds me.

"I know. He's being a cat."

Dan, my daily hero, leaves to rescue Theo. This isn't always so easy. He can be as slippery as an eel when he doesn't want to be picked up. I see him easily sidestep Dan. Dan, undeterred, kneels down and launches an argument.

I decide against buying the tablecloth. The next thing I know I'm holding Theo captive.

"Well?"

"We reached a compromise."

"You bribed him."

 Dan shrugs but leaves to buy some food. For Theo. There's chicken cooking on a grill. And some cheese. 

"You're a real gangster," I concede, then thank our lucky stars there's always good food to eat in glorious Italy.

 

Earthquakes and Sophia Loren in Puzzuoli

 I am old enough to remember Sophia Loren when she was super famous in Hollywood. Her beautiful face, her sultry air, her marriage to Carlo Ponti. Many years later, quite by chance, I saw her standing outside of The Strand Bookstore in New York City. No makeup. She was still beautiful. And taller than I expected.

Not many people know but she was born and lived in the tiny town of Puzzuoli, Italy, with her mother, her grandparents, an aunt and two uncles during World War II.  Puzzuoli is famous because it is built on top of one of the most active, yet hidden, supervolcanos--the Campi Flegrei. "Campi" means "fields." "Flegrei" means "on fire." The land is never still and constantly moves up and down. 

In fact during the 16th century, in 1538, the earth cracked open and lava shot out. A 430 foot mountain was formed in one night. Literally, people went to sleep with no mountain and woke up the next morning with a mountain. 

Recently Puzzuoli suffered another earthquake, which closed down an archaeological dig. The Italians have been in the process of restoring the Flavian Amphitheater, the third largest Roman amphitheater in Italy. Experts believe that this amphitheater was built by the same architects who built the Roman Colosseum. We came to Puzzuoli to see it. We try to convince the gatekeepers to let us in, just for a peek, but no go. It is too dangerous. Too volatile.

Instead we spend the morning traipsing around another site--Ambulatio Villa, an ancient ruin that dates back to the first century AD.  At first, the experts thought the ruins were thermal baths, but as they excavated more of the area, they realized the ruins were a typical Roman villa, the home of some mega wealthy people. Like other villas, the structure was on the side of a hill, on six different levels or terraces, that cascade to the sea. 

I often have difficulty making sense of any ruins, but archaelogists insist they can tell a lot about how people lived 2400 years ago by analyzing what is left behind.

This is what I see:

A large complex made of stone with multiple staircases that connect the various levels.

I see some exquisite mosaics on the floor that are still there:

I see the remnants of frescoes that decorated the walls of the villa. Some even still have evidence of color:

What I'm most impressed by, however, is the evidence of a communal bathroom with running water. Who knew?

One of the things you realize is how connected ancient people were to nature. The ruins evidence patios and outside porticos. The Romans loved to bathe in the sea. There were gardens with vegetables and flowers. 

And what is Theo looking at? First he becomes particularly interested in a statue of one of the Roman Gods. Does he think the naked man is real? Theo dutifully goes over and sniffs the base but soon loses interest.

Then Theo spots the most incredible sight: a tree is growing upside down, hanging from the ceiling. I have no explanation for how that is possible. It just is. 

Theo can't wait to go over and investigate. He tries to squeeze himself between the rungs of the barrier that is there to keep people and cats away from the tree. It is a tight squeeze. Theo has imbibed a lot more snacks lately. He manages to get about half way through, but he gets stuck, half in and half out.

"Should we help him?" I ask Dan.

"Theo, it's too tight. Try and back out."

Using his back paws, he jerks his body backward. Slowly, he extricates himself from the barrier trap. He walks around in a few circles as if he's considering his next move. 

I want to say--it's not worth it, but before I can say a word, he stares at that tree, begins pumping and I know what is about to happen--he takes a flying leap over the barrier and ends up on the other side.

"Theo, this is a protected site. Don't do anything . . ."

Theo has a one track mind. He disappears under the tree for what seems like hours (truthfully it is only minutes) and when he emerges, if he had the proper face muscles, he would be wearing a smile. 

"What were you doing under there?"

Ignoring my question, Theo leaps back over the barrier and stands beside his beleaguered parents looking totally innocent.

"Theo."

"I had to do it, see?"

“You’re becoming more like a teenager everyday.”

He shrugs.

And that’s not a good thing.