Istanbul -- City of Cats

By The Spouse, Guest Blogger

Everywhere you walk in Istanbul, you walk among cats. They lounge on Beyoǧlu’s stairways and benches, patrol the Kennedy Caddesi’s rocky seawall, forage Nişantaşi’s elegant cafes, raise families beneath Byzantine walls. The city not only tolerates, but supports them. Dishes appear on doorsteps, with water or milk. Hands pass tidbits under restaurant tables. Fingers scratch furry ears, and laps welcome kittens.

Like most travelers, we assumed that we were the discoverers of these creatures, and we began, like zoologists in the Amazon, photographing these exotic organisms for later study. The Web, of course, was way ahead of us. Cats, it appears, have a long association with the city, the origins of which may be historical or religious, but is amply documented and discussed. To learn more or join the lively discussion, search  “cats Istanbul” from your favorite Web entry point.

They are street-wise but remarkably tame and amiable. Some are thoroughly well-fed and lazy denizens of park benches in major tourist areas, as this comfortable Topkapi palace guardian (left).

Most others seem to work for a living. Predators of the Serengeti that stretches across the parklands of the Topkapi, or hustlers on the mean streets of bazaars and residential quarters, these cats can make a good life for themselves with their energy and determination. They are fully adapted to life, not in the wild, nor as pets, but in a kind of peaceful co-existence with the city’s people.

They may be scrawny families eking out a living on a rocky hillside, such as this exhausted group below the Monastery of St. George on Büyükada Island, one of the “Princes Islands” in the Sea of Marmara. Fortunately for them, their camp sits just downhill from outdoor kebab restaurant that serves the pilgrims who climb to the Orthodox Church to pray and leave ex voto offerings in aid of troubled loved ones. These cats collect the more prosaic offerings left or tossed from the tables.

In the Chora church, with its amazing 14th Century mosaics, kittens hang around outside to grab a share of attention away from Christ Pantocrator. Thoroughly comfortable with busloads of Spanish, Italian, and American tourists, they invite homage from all who visit.

Thin and elegant long-necked cats, seemingly raised from an Egyptian tomb, regard the traveler with big, curious eyes. As we walked up a long boulevard bordered by summer mansions on Büyükada Island, a youthful one of these stared us down from the protection of his owner’s wall.

Sunday morning in Nişantaşi, the city’s upscale neighborhood.  At umbrella-shaded sidewalk tables, demarcated by shrubs in pots, brunch is served. Cats wage guerilla war for space and scraps. A foraging feline, of thin and elegant demeanor, finds an opening. Eyes big with soulful appeal, furry neck and head invite unwary human fingers to pat and rub, but her attention is laser-focused on the tidbit at the end of a fork  or waiting on a plate. Our plates have sausages, and, bit by bit, totally seduced, we offer them up to our mendicant. But enough is enough—we have to eat after all—and we send our guest elsewhere in search of other tables.

A family is next to fall—a young girl’s face lights up at a neighboring table, and food is passed downwards. This can’t continue. The waiters engage. Shouting, squirting water from spray bottles, they drive the intruder out. Peace returns.

A little while later, a furry nudge on an arm. The cycle begins again.

After a week, we had grown so used to their presence, that life without cats roaming the streets around us seemed a bit empty. Just as, in so many other ways, the teeming  diversity of the Istanbul street makes most other cities we know seem a bit dull by comparison.

Autumn on the Shores of Zugersee

Fall is wonderful in itself -- the new crispness in the air, the explosion of color in the trees -- and for its promise of another ski season just around the corner.  Of course, Switzerland is beautiful in the fall -- when is it not anything less than gorgeous?  But there is one little price to pay for the privilege: we have to live in fog for a good deal of the season.

This isn't true everywhere, but in those areas near those beautiful lakes that make a perfect background for every picture.  It seems that the interaction of lake water and cooling air produces dense fog, which backs up against those lovely hills and can just sit there for days at a time.

Or, as is most often the case, the day begins in dense fog -- I mean, so dense that you can't even see St. Martin's church tower a couple of blocks away (though, of course, you can always hear its bells.) And gradually, the fog burns off, at least in part, leaving a haze in the air that makes for spectacular sunsets.

The solution is, as always, simple -- get up to the mountains.  Thus, for the past month we have taken advantage of every free day to get above the fog for a hike.  At least one day each weekend we have hiked in some valley or other, exulting in the fall color.

Being there also gives us an opportunity to check out the progress of snow on the highest peaks, which only whets our appetites for the ski season to come.

Last weekend we returned to the Haslital, one of our favorite valleys, and hiked along the Hasliberg, the uplands above. 

Autumn also brings the opportunity to observe different local customs and traditions.  Few in Switzerland, apart from expatriates, celebrate Halloween.  Instead, November 1 is a holiday in Catholic cantons, as the Feast of All Saints, when people decorate the graves of loved ones with flowers, pine boughs and candles.  And in most communities at this time of year children participate in Räbeliechtliumzugs (roughly translated, little turnip light parades).  

The parade took place in Baar last night.  We were prepared in advance by a letter from school officials asking us to turn off our lights at the time of the parade to create an appropriate "atmosphere."  Beginning at 6:45, all of the children in the town's 20 kindergartens assembled at the Rathus (Town Hall) and then processed through the streets at the center of town.  Each carried on a pole a turnip that he or she had carved, brightly lit within by a candle.  Some times they sang traditional songs and others they were accompanied by a brass band.  

The effect was magical, but unfortunately because of the light I was not able to get pictures.  This YouTube video from another community captures the atmosphere well, though.  Similar parades will be taking place at communities large and small throughout Switzerland in coming days.  I found the event touchingly simple and sweet.  Soon, comes one of the highlights of Baar's social calendar, the Chilbi.