Kate Lutter's Blog

Theo Investigates Trials at Nuremburg

 For almost anyone of a certain age, the town of Nuremburg conjures up World War II and its aftermath, when the decision to prosecute those responsible for the Holocaust (politicians, generals) were put on trial in the first international court that is established to sit in judgment of the atrocities committed by Germany. The idea that the atrocities--concentration camps--were so extreme that Germans should be held responsible is an American belief. Ultimately, the Americans and French presided over the trials.

This is the second time I've visited Nuremberg. The first time I saw the courtroom from the outside. The building remains impressive:

This time the courtroom is open and Dan, I and Theo can go inside. It is a small space considering what happened here--on the second floor up a long flight of stairs. 

Black and white photos flank visitors who arrive. They are posted on the outside and starkly contrast what the courthouse looked like in the day and now today. The place stands as a living memorial to justice.

We learns things we didn't know. After the trials, for example, the Germany people themselves were blithely unaware of what had happened. A new Germany constitution, the Grundgesetz, was created in 1949 guaranteeing freedoms such as freedom of the press, speech and opinions in order to prevent the kind of censorship and restrictions that existed under the Nazis. Still it took years for the full story to come out and be accepted by the Germans.The Holocaust was not taught to students in schools. It wasn't until 1968 that students at the university demand more transparency, and the Holocaust becomes part of the curriculum. 

We also learn that the local leaders--the Mayors of town, the lawyers, etc. are not prosecuted after the war. The thinking is to spare these people so that they can participate in the rebuilding of Germany. In reality many German cities were heavily bombed by the Allies. Today in Germany, you can often see an old part of town (which was not destroyed by bombs) and the newer more modern part of town which was rebuilt after the war. 

You might be wondering about Theo. How is he handling all this history? All in all, he loves history and can often be found at home perched on our oversized lounge chair in the living room staring at the screen--at the birds, at the squirrels, at Ken Burns' documentaries.

Today he is remarkably well-behaved. Quiet and respectful. And for the hordes of people crowding into the courtroom to check it out and hear the presentation--Theo is seemingly unaware of them, and they are unaware of him. Everyone is transported back in time--to that most horrific of times. Everyone wants to hear the story and look around. Everyone is mesmerized. Even Theo, the gangster cat. And for once no snacks are involved in the making of this blog.

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.

Museum Escape in Passau

" I'm out of here." Theo gives a big sigh of relief. Hours spent walking through a museum that never seems to end is not on Theo's top ten list of things to do in Passau, Germany. Sure, it's an old historic town near a bunch of rivers. (This is Theo's down and dirty summary of our afternoon experience.) But can we leave now? Haven't you guys had enough?

"Look around you," I say to my frustrated cat. "Look. The river. The town. This place definitely does not look like New Jersey."

He scoffs. 

Dan has an idea. He whispers into my ear. "Snack. I think the kid needs a snack."

We have this portable bowl that expands. It's handy for situations like this. Open the ziplock bag. Pour in a bunch of dried cat food, ahem, healthy dried cat food and make a peace offering of sorts. We're standing on a bridge that connects this museum (a used to be castle) with the rest of the town. We have a super magnificent view, the kind you want to stare at so you can re-imagine it later when you're back home in the states.

Theo expectedly chomps on his snack. The bowl is clean. Finally, the kid looks up. Dan hoists him on top of the wall that lines the bridge for a better view. 

"Well, Theo? What do you think?"

Is that a nod? A smile. A look of approval?

"How do you even begin to capture this?" as I ignore Theo's enigmatic response. I decide to take a video.

Everyone counsels to be in the moment. Appreciate what is around you. I glance back at the used to be castle. 

And, before I realize it, Theo is glancing back, too. Is he changing his mind? Maybe stopping at the Veste Oberhaus wasn't such a bad idea? 

Theo begins walking along the top of the wall. One slip and . . .

Dan grabs my arm. "Let the kid be. He's not going to fall off this wall. He's being a cat."

When seconds later Theo jumps down, I know it's time to go. We start walking down the bridge towards the spot where we'll meet a small shuttle bus and get back to town. He'll probably be asleep before we arrive back at the hotel. Life is good.

Theo and the Cats Playing Chess

 Yes, I have to admit we're still in Passau, an old (very old) town on the Danube River in Germany. And I have to admit something else--I'm a sucker for museums that claim to have ancient artifacts that can give you--however slight--a glimpse into the past. Passau--once occupied by the Romans--has a history that extends back to 50 BC. So when archaeologists route around in the ground looking for remnants of this long storied past, they are bound to come up with just about anything.

Dan, I and Theo decide to visit the Veste Oberhaus, a history museum, which is on a hilltop fortress dating to 1219. It has an extensive collection of artifacts dating back to the beginnings of Passau.

The artifacts are organized from the earliest finds to the later finds. 

An early piece of pottery where you can see the intricate designs.

An early nail:

Early gold coins:

An early statue of St. Stephen:

And what gets me super excited--one of the first original safety pins. I assume that Theo will be excited too. He is kind of into history. He knows what a safety pin is. But he barely gives it a second glance. Oh, yeah, he is one restless little guy. Museums are not his thing.

We move into the next section--all about war with the typical artifacts that you would expect to see if you know anything about ancient warfare: a suit of mail, helmets, decorated drums for the soldiers to march to, cannon balls, and a large assortment of rifles.

We realize at this point that we can't see the entire museum. It is just too big. We have to make choices. I love anything that reveals the social mores of the time. 
"Wow, look at this," I say to no one in particular. Dan and I are facing one of the ways society punished people, especially women, when they gossiped, or stole, or did even worse. I try to imagine what that would have been like--forced to stand in a public square with that contraption around your neck and your hands. 




















In the next exhibit we are facing two horse statues pulling a cart with a passenger, representing the common mode of transportation. It is huge. I turn around to Theo to point it out. He's gone.  


















This is a fabulous museum, but it it not crowded. Maybe we've passed five people since we got inside. The museum leads you around from exhibit to exhibit. It is kind of like following the yellow brick road. Theo has to be ahead of us.
Of course. There he is staring up at what I would guess is his favorite exhibit. Two cat statues are facing each other and playing some kind of board game--checkers? No, it has to be chess. Maybe living in the olden times wasn't so dull after all. Theo agrees.

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 the Regensburg Sausage Kitchen

 Theo agrees to go to Regensburg--another quaint historic city on the Danube River--because it hosts a Sausage Kitchen that still serves sausage and sauerkraut, the oldest continuously operating public restaurant in the world (1135AD.) That information is kind of mind blowing. I want to taste the sausage myself. I love sauerkraut. So I sympathize with Theo. As usual the kid is hungry. As usual we'll have to listen to his plaintive meows as we tour around this famous city. 

"First we see the city. Then we'll eat."

Theo frowns and shakes his head.

"Sorry, buddy. But this isn't a gourmet eating tour. You'll get your sausages, I promise."

Skeptical. Unhappy. And, of course, hungry. I try to distract him.

"Look."

We've just spotted one of the city's key attractions--a stone bridge built in the 12th century (the oldest bridge in Germany) which for years was the only bridge across the Danube. Can you imagine? If anyone wanted to cross the Danube, they needed a boat for years!

Luckily, Regensburg was not bombed by the Allies during WWII so we can see the gorgeous Renaissance and Gothic style buildings that define the town. Regensburg is one of the biggest medieval cities north of the Alps. Its history spans 2,000 years, beginning as a military camp in 179AD by the Romans and later growing into a bustling hub due to its location on the Danube. The city is very livable. We pass an open air market and have to literally pick Theo up as we walk on by:

The Protestant Reformation literally began in Regensburg. Martin Luther (and others) led a movement against the Catholic Church, upset over the selling of indulgences, etc. resulting in the formation of various Protestant sects. Nevertheless, the Regensburg Cathedral (the Cathedral of St. Peter) lies in the heart of the city. Two towering spires extend 105 meters into the air. Stained glass windows from the 13th and 14th centuries let the light in. The interior is glorious:

Walking through a cathedral, gawking at the art work, statues and the sheer magnificence of the place wears Theo down. Maybe it's my imagination, but I can hear his little tummy growl. 

Off to the sausage kitchen. The place is packed. There is eating inside (waiting list) and out. We stand in line and put in our order--sausage and sauerkraut on a delicious roll. We pay and then walk over to a window in the kitchen and wait for our food. Theo doesn't quite understand why there is a delay.

We find a table that overlooks the Danube. The day is sunny with a slight breeze. Dan puts the sausage sandwiches on a table. By this time we're drooling. But then the unthinkable happens. 

In a blink of an eye Theo jumps up on the table, grabs a sausage out of the roll, leaps down again with the sausage securely in his mouth and begins running towards the river. We are more than astounded. 

Dan runs after him but loses sight of the gangster cat. Where did he go? 

"I give up," Dan says.

"He'll come back." I don't know why I'm so calm, but I figure he's looking for a quiet place to eat. 

We wolf down our sandwiches, and sure enough, I spot him, licking his chops, walking confidently across the stone floor towards our table.

I can hear his excuses running through my head. "I had to do it." or "I was starving." 

"Theo."

"I did what I had to do," he says before he proceeds to lie down at our feet and close his eyes.

"Let it be," Dan says. And I do.

Finally, we head off in search of Port Praetorian, a Roman style gate built from massive blocks of stone--the oldest gate in Germany--dating back to 2AD. It is well preserved and much bigger than I imagine it will be. For a moment I imagine walking through the gate and ending up back in time, able to glimpse the way life was centuries ago. 

No, that doesn't happen. We remain firmly rooted in 2025, but as we're leaving this city, I ask Dan and Theo--what was the highlight. For me it was the cathedral. Dan picks Port Praetorian. For Theo, it was the sausage kitchen. I'm not surprised. 

Theo and the Holy Cafe

 Immediately we sense that something is different. We walk into a restaurant across the street from St. Stephen's Cathedral. It is a small cafe with a unique interior: exposed pipes, old fashioned lights that remind us of our lamp in our den--bare bulbs Thomas Edison style.

Our table has three chairs as if someone knew we were bringing Theo along, who sits quietly in the beginning. I think--maybe we're going to be able to have a good lunch. 

A waiter comes over with the menu and doesn't blink an eye when he sees Theo. Dan order the daily special--loin of pork with stuffing and a rich brown gravy, Bavaria style. I order a flatbread with onions, bacon and cheese. The flatbread is as thin as a Holy Communion wafer they give out during Catholic mass.

As we're waiting, Dan reads the brochure on the table and translates the German. This cafe is a Holy Cafe, owned and operated by the Cathedral across the street. Clergy, people who work in the cathedral, and people who attend Mass eat there. The portions are large and the price is right.

As I wait for my food, I ponder the idea of a holy cafe. Is the food blessed before it is served to the parishioners? Do they make you say a prayer before you eat? The waiter delivers the food, and as Dan is staring down at his meal and Theo is gawking at it, sniffing and sniffing, I see the waiter make a quick sign of the cross and then before I can say a word, he pulls a flask out of his pocket and sprinkles water on the meal. 

Dan sees nothing. I see everything. He's too busy examining the bottle of regular water.

"Did you see that?"

"What?"

"I thought I saw him . . . I know I saw him . . ." but I stop. Dan already thinks I'm a bit crazy. Will he even believe a waiter would bless the food with holy water?

I look over at Theo. He is staring now at Dan's food. Did he see it, too? The blessing bestowed upon the pork? The flask? The water?

He gives me one of those glances that seems to say-hey, what's up with this? But then he does a little shake and meows. Is it more important to eat the food than discuss catholic rituals? 

The food is delicious. Dan gives Theo some of his pork, so he's happy. He doesn't seem to care if his food is blessed or not.

"So this cafe is actually run by the church," Dan says to our waiter as he grapples with the idea. 

Our waiter points to some other patrons. "They just went to service."

We glance around, but honestly they look like ordinary people.

Before we leave, I follow the waiter's instructions to the bathroom. That's when I'm convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt. The sink is gold-plated. I'm not kidding. Later I think--I should have taken a photo of this. No one is going to believe it!

"What a great meal," Dan says.

Theo has finished and is now licking the gravy off his mouth and whiskers. 

I, born and raised a Catholic, am astonished. "This is the first time I've ever eaten in a holy cafe." As we're leaving, Theo is bouncing around more than usual. Dan is in a good mood. I'm trying to see if I feel any differently. And, maybe, perhaps I do.

PS We'll be off next week--busy traveling. 

Theo Cold Shoulders St. Stephen's Cathedral

 In honor of our brother-in-law Stephen who is married to my youngest sister Cyndi, we're determined to visit St. Stephen's Cathedral in Passau, Germany, named after St. Stephen, a Christian martyr who was stoned to death. Even though we're not fans of organ music, when you have the opportunity to hear one of the world's largest pipe organs with 17,774 pipes--you listen. St. Stephen's Cathedral dates back to the 17th century where it underwent a reconstruction after it almost burned to the ground. Formerly it was constructed in the Gothic style. The renovation introduced the grand Baroque style. Think fancy and gold. Think bling.

"Are you excited to see the inside of the church?" I ask Theo.

No. The answer is no. As we trudge closer and closer to St. Stephen's, Theo finds every excuse to delay. He is interested in every bird he spots along the way and wants to investigate. Because he is a cat.

He spots a squirrel, and he needs to investigate him also.

Then he's starving. He needs a snack. We have to stop and pull out some of our dried cat food we keep on hand, just in case. I expect him to scarf it down, but instead he eats each morsel carefully and slowly.

"I know what you're doing, Theo. Speed it up." He doesn't. 

Then we're on the move again. I point out some highlights of the city. I love to capture those special bits that make the city unusual, different, that remind us that in these old places they used to put angel statues on building walls.

We follow a brightly colored stone path that leads to the artist's quarter:

We see a bat suspended from a building in an alley and a king with a scepter on the wall of another building:

We pass a beautifully decorated clock tower and then a mosaic of three lions holding up a drawing of another lion. 

Finally we reach the cathedral and take a minute to admire the odd style with its quirky decorations.

The cathedral is closed. There is a mass going on and no one (no tourist, they mean) is allowed inside the church. 

I can't believe it. These are things beyond our control. I'm shaking my head in frustration when I glance down at Theo. An ugly thought pops into my head.

"What did you do, Theo?"

He looks up at me--all innocence.

I get ahold of myself. Of course, he couldn't have done anything. But he looks so self satisfied, sitting there, staring at the cathedral as if he has performed some miracle, or did he wield some dark magic?

"I'm so disappointed," I say to no one in particular.

But Theo doesn't seem the least bit concerned or disappointed. He wants to eat again. 

"Let's go to lunch," Dan suggests.

We are in for the surprise of our lives . . . tune in next week.

Wild Girl Sienna and the High Railing Act

 Home for Theo is not exactly the range but rather a well-appointed townhouse with lots of windows and places to hide out and play. He lives with his two siblings--Mico (short of Michelangelo) and Sienna. They are two wild things--previously feral but now a bit more tamed. Usually, the three of them are plotting to secure more snacks, racing around the house like maniacs, or snoozing/cat napping/sleeping. 

Theo loves to travel but he equally loves to veg at home with Mico and Sienna. Sometimes they egg each other on and play fight. Other times they are busy racing up the stairs and then grooming each other once they reach the top.

We love them dearly. 

Here are a few pics of them lounging around:

This is what gets them into trouble. It all begins with Sienna who has a penchant for high places. For some unknown reason Sienna loves to lounge on the railing that overlooks the dining room. She jumps up there and then preens. "Look. See what I can do."

The very idea of her relaxing on a railing that has a ten foot drop scares the beejeebers out of us. A high wire or rather high railing act that can only end in tragedy.

"Sienna, come down from there."

No response. Sometimes she stares at us as if to say, "Make me."

Other times she casually looks away as if she's lost her hearing suddenly and has no idea we're asking her to do anything. 

I call Theo in for a consultation.

"See." I point to Sienna.

Theo looks mildly concerned.

"Help us, Theo. Help us get her down from there."

But even as I say the words, I wonder--what can he possibly do? Meow at her? If he tries to jump up, either he'll fall or he might knock her off. It's a precarious situation.

He gives us some advice. "Ignore her."

He's probably right.

"Or . . ." He glances toward the "snack room." 

I get it. Of course the lure of the snack. "You're a genius."

Casually I announce. "Okay, snack time."

Now, how many words do most cats know? Twenty? Theo is the exception, of course, but let's face it, most cats understand a limited amount of human language. But . . . all my cats know the word "snack."

Wild girl Sienna's ears prick up. I walk towards the room. Sure enough, the problem is solved. Sienna jumps down and races to be the first one there. Mico is a fast second behind her. Theo brings up the rear.

Problem is solved. All is safe--for the time being--home on the range.