stress, part 2.

And now, back to our story. And the much-hyped stress. (Beware: lots of cat drama at the end down there. You've been warned.)

After Luxembourg, it was off to Trier by train. I don't remember how I first found out about Trier, but it appealed to me for three reasons: 1), it's in Germany, where we can sorta speak a little of the language; 2), it's the oldest city in Germany (founded in or before 16 BC!!), and 3) they have Roman ruins . Done, done, and done.

As it turns out, Trier is actually quite well known on the tourist circuit, so when we arrived, the main sites were quite crowded. Including this fantastic thing, which was immediately next to our hotel:

Porta Nigra! The largest and best-preserved Roman city gate north of the Alps. Built sometime during the 2nd century AD; converted into a church sometime during the 11th century after the death of its resident monk, St. Simeon; church dismantled by Napoleon during the early 19th century...this thing has has all kinds of crazy interesting history, and it's wicked impressive.

Here's the back side, with a tourist or two. (Fact: the name "Porta Nigra" dates only back to the middle ages, as the sandstone had already blackened by then. The original Latin name is lost.)

Naturally, we had to go inside. 

There are all sorts of intricate carvings inside, dating back to its use as a church.

From each passage, you can see down to the floor below.

Lots of really intricate details.

View from the top into the medieval center of town.

The actual guided tours were being given by these shouty guys wearing full centurion gear. Heh. (You can tell by Fur Hood there on the left that it was cold in Trier.)

Thought this inscription was interesting: both sides are in Latin, but the script is so different.

The main square at Hauptmarkt. The tower on the left is the 14th-century Market Church of St. Gangolf** (which served as both church and watchtower), and the white building on the right is a reconstruction of the Steipe, or city council's banquet hall, originally built in 1483 but destroyed during WWII.

Random little arch over Liebfrauenstrasse, with the cathedral behind.

Cathedral (left, behind) and Liebfrauenkirche (right, front): oldest cathedral and Gothic church in Germany, respectively, dating roughly to the 9th (although some walls portions are older and Roman) and 13th centuries, respectively.

The whole ensemble is pretty massive (here, the front of the cathedral, with Liebfrauenkirche on the right).

Didn't get to go inside the Liebfrauenkirche, but we did get to see the inside of the cathedral. Fairly vast and relatively sparse, save a few baroque details, but it did have this: the chapel of the Holy Robe, supposedly the tunic of Jesus. Visitors can only enter the chapel on one day each year, and even then you don't get to see the robe. Innnnteresting. I do like that on their website, though, they claim right up front that there's no way to prove the robe actually belonged to Jesus. Way to keep it real, kids.

Slightly southeast of the cathedral is the massive, red brick Konstantin Basilica, which was originally built as a throne for the emperor Constantine around the year 310, and incorporated into the Electoral Palace (the pink part) in the 17th century. Today the basilica serves as a protestant church.

A ten-minute walk south of the basilica, along a Roman wall, we found the Kaiserthermen (Imperial Baths), also constructed for Constantine and finished around 314.

They are supposedly the largest baths outside Rome (yeah, you're really not going to beat Caracalla or Diocletian.)

Kaiserthermen.

Best thing about the baths: there were heaps of subterranean tunnels for exploration.

Awesome. We were expecting neither the size nor the underground component of these baths, and it was a delightful surprise.

All this 'sploring made for a busy day, so we elected to have dinner relatively close to our hotel, just off the main square at the Ratskeller. I started with goulash soup, and Mike with onion soup; then I went for one of their Russian dishes (oddly enough, their house specials were mostly Russian), chicken stuffed with cheese, sour cream, and mushrooms, with delicious roasted potatoes; Mike opted for steak with peppercorn sauce and potatoes; and we actually skipped dessert. (Shocking, I know, but sometimes there's only so much you can eat.)

Day two in Trier began with the Easter Sunday service at the cathedral, which I have to say I found a bit impenetrable. Something was lacking for me...maybe it was just the size of the cathedral, or the sheer number of people in attendance that made it all feel very impersonal. Yes, the service was in German, but that wasn't the issue; last year, we attended a service in French that I found really moving, but this year I just didn't have that feeling. It could also have been the Catholic aspect of the service--I have absolutely zero problem with the Catholic tradition and style of worship, but it's just not for me. It's like they have a secret code, with all of the kneeling and bits of music in Latin and call-and-response that everyone else knows and can follow, but not me...it's like if you don't know the secret code, then you don't get to worship. And I can't kneel 'cause my knees are stupid-painful and noisy*, and so I always feel like all of the kneelers around me (especially the devout old people, who, I'm sure, have arthritis and all manner of other things that make it hard for them to kneel, and so why shouldn't I be kneeling, too??) are judging me when I just remain sitting. (And also, it's not part of my own worship tradition, so that makes it weird for me to kneel, too.) Plus, we had somehow gotten the wrong programs and couldn't even follow along with anything in the songbook. It was utterly disappointing. 

[WARNING: cat drama ahead. Just quit now, if you're not into tales of overwhelming guilt. Or cats.] 

And then, things took a turn for the seriously, seriously worse. After church, Mike received a truly desperate couple of text messages from our cat lady regarding the health of my dear Ned. She had actually begun texting us on our first day in Luxembourg, as Ned entirely refused to take his pill in any form from her, but we then exchanged ideas on how to get him to ingest the stupid thing and she went off to try them. Over that day and the next, we continued to receive messages from her that were alternatively reassuring, and then concerning, and she eventually had her biologist husband come with her on day 3 to help give Ned his pill the old-fashioned way: no treats involved, just stick it down his throat. While I was actually really worried about my stubborn little jerk of a cat, I had gone to bed the night before Easter feeling like things were still mostly ok, since he'd actually taken that last pill, but her final text message more or less read, "Ned is hiding in the dark, he won't eat, he can't keep his eyes open, the other two cats are worried about him and also won't eat, you should come home." 

What the...? Ok, then, call off the rest of the trip, we're going home. So we spent the next seven hours in transit, with me nauseous and in tears most of the way, convinced that I had killed my poor cat. In my cat lady's defense, she was relatively new to the profession and didn't really have the confidence to make Ned take his pill, but I also think that her anxiety really amped up Ned's own stress, and it was just a horrible downward spiral. Really, though, the fault lay with me, as I was overconfident that Ned would conduct himself for her as he does for me, and I planned a trip that was entirely too far from home (we should have stayed within a couple of hours!), and I didn't really provide her with adequate back-up methods to try, should the pill-in-treat method not work. The whole situation was terrible, terrible, terrible, and poor Ned remained quiet and mopey and utterly not himself for about two weeks. He lost weight, got all sorts of mats in the fur around his face, and slept most of the time. I cried a lot and felt horribly guilty and assumed that he was probably going to leave us soon, despite the fact that he was back on his meds and the vet could find nothing wrong. I had a nice talk-it-out with my cat lady, who later left us anyway, because we were moving to the other side of the lake (but obviously, the whole stupid pill situation was problematic as well). I felt so guilty about putting her in such a bad situation, and even worse for abandoning my sick cat to indulge my own travel habits...Ned and I were both not right for a while. 

And then I decided that if Ned was going to leave us, I'd try to make his remaining time with us as good as possible, and lo and behold if he didn't start pulling out of whatever funk he was in. I'm not saying my turn for the better made his happen, but...he got steadily better, I felt less sad and guilty, and one day we all woke up and were normal again. It felt like a small miracle. I had no idea how attached I really was to these fuzzy little jerks, and losing one through my own arrogance and carelessness would probably have really messed me up. I'm getting queasy and teary just thinking about all of this stupid drama, and why couldn't it have been Stewie that had to take the pill? That cat loves everything remotely edible and is never quarrelsome...unlike Ned, who comes with his own instruction manual (do not pet on belly, do not pet at all when tail twitches, do not pick up, do not touch feet, must eat special food, etc., etc., etc.). 

So. We still find ourselves without someone to watch our animals when we travel, but I've dug up a few options, and now that Ned takes his pill with tuna (uppity little snob), I am very cautiously optimistic that we may one day be able to travel again. Probably. And someday I will return to Trier to see all of the awesome things (15th-century boat-loading cranes! the river! more baths! Liebfrauenkirche! the Roman artifact museum! et al.) that we missed on that last day...and hopefully in better weather (i.e., without horizontally-blowing wind and snow flurries).

WOW, sorry to ramble on thusly, but that was a pretty rough patch in our household and a much bigger deal than it should have been, by all rights. For me, it was a major part of the last few months and it's a little cathartic to have it all written down. Anyway, moving on.

But first, a rare moment of peace between Ned and Stew, enjoying some sunshine on the vast, vast window sills of the new apartment. 

What we're watching: last night, it was Moonrise Kingdom, which I will admit actually lives up to the hype. Frankly, I loved it. What a weird, quirky little love story with moments of genuine sadness and hilarity. Go, watch it now. You won't be sorry.

My favorite things: this video that Mike found. IT'S HILARIOUS 'CAUSE IT'S TRUE OF CATS EVERYWHERE. (Disclaimer: this has one or two bad words...don't watch with impressionable little ones around.) For even more awesomeness, watch some of zefrank's 'True Facts' videos...especially the anglerfish one. That's the best. (There's some blue humor in several of them, but for the most part, HAH. Good stuff.)

Next up: a quick photo journey through the new digs. 

*Don't believe me? Ask me for a demo sometime. You'll regret it.

**AAAGGHHHH! St. Gandalf is what they obviously meant.

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