In the streets
Istanbul, the city of 15 million people and numerous names, keeps in the corners of its century-old houses and streets infinite untold stories. It is unfathomable to think how many lives must have been lived in a city of such magnitude. However, underneath the footsteps of these human lives, yet another world was—and still is—unfolding. Its furry inhabitants, though not having their history written down, have lived through all those long years of Istanbul’s past, witnessing the world change, emperors crowned, and regimes fall. The cats of Constantinople might not have numerous different names for the city as humans do, but they mark and recognize it in their own terms.
It’s probably not far from the truth to say that there are as many cats as there are humans in Byzantium. They spring out of every old corner, and a city as dense, gigantic, and old as Stambul has about a billion of those. Graced by the words of the Prophet in Islam, they enjoy good care, being fed and nourished by fellow humans. However, in such good conditions, they multiply continuously, which naturally leads to a dense cat population that brings complications and the fight for survival. They can be seen resting in packs of as many as 15 at a time, spending their days doing whatever it is that cats do. Some of them hang around the main touristic squares, hoping for good fortune from foreigners. Others stick around shops, waiting for shop owners to feed them with tasty leftovers.
On the cars
It is well known that car-lying is one of the best activities if you’re a cat. The smooth surface provides comfortable seating, and if sunny, the metal heats up quickly. Most of the cats in Istanbul are glad to be petted, some of them afraid, and a few reluctant. However, it seems that the cars are just so damn comfortable that most of the cats give an obvious “do not disturb” look—a look that our dear Fred demonstrates perfectly in the picture below.
By the sea
Life next to the sea follows a different rhythm. Far away from the daily struggles of furry life in the streets of Istanbul, those residing by the sea enjoy an undoubtedly more relaxed lifestyle. Because of the spaciousness and the calming presence of the sea, tensions are low, and fights are rare. There is quite enough space for each mister and miss cat to find their preferred spot, lie down, and do not much more than soak in the sun for hours and hours.
The wind carries particles of salt from the Black Sea in the north and the Mediterranean Sea in the south. They merge here, at the crossroads of two continents, gradually stacking up on the concrete shores of Istanbul. The fisherman’s forehead is wrinkled, a consequence of wind-carried salt engraving itself into his skin as years and years of life on the sea pass by. So too is the fur of our dear coastal furry protagonists thick with salt, as the wind and sunlight carry on their alchemical process.
Further east, in Ankara
Across the Bosphorus Strait and a six-hour bus ride further east into Anatolia, I arrived in Ankara, the capital of modern-day Turkey. Although an ancient city dating back to centuries B.C., recent investments in its development dominate the landscape. The effort to create a bustling city worthy of its status as the capital is visible—an effort that challenges the constantly repeated phrase among travelers and locals alike: “Istanbul is great, there is not much to see in Ankara.”
High residential buildings stack up on hills around the core of the city, where an ancient castle stands as the protector of its historical story. The old town that climbs up the hill toward the castle is so well-preserved that it seems like an open-air museum, a government-initiated performance. With traffic constantly slightly busy and streets constantly slightly empty, it is difficult to get a feeling of a bustling urban area.
The many ancient corners of Istanbul were a breeding ground for cats and their untold lives, yet here in Ankara, the empty streets leave room for packs of dogs to patrol throughout the day. Long into the night, their howling and barking can be heard as numerous conflicts, dramas, and plot twists arise. They are rugged and scarred, uncared for by humans, and their lives are a daily struggle. All this barking and dog fighting isn’t a particularly inviting environment for cats, and it seems they are either hiding or have completely vanished from the city.
Yet, in one of the streets that passes through the center, in front of a well-kept, one-story public building, a rare beauty sat dazed and confused. I can imagine the employees of the public office were taking care of her, because her fur was neat, and she did not have the character of a street cat. Unsurprisingly, she seemed lost and alone in a city where the horrific barking went long into the night.
Back in Bulgaria, Plovdiv
A twelve-hour bus ride from Ankara, back across the Bosphorus, and I was in Plovdiv. Arguably the oldest city in Europe, Plovdiv’s old town is protected as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Its streets are a delicate play of colorful houses pressed together, medieval walls, and hip cafés. Cold winds of winter blow through the streets, and the residents of the city are hidden inside bars, drinking hot beverages in cozy armchairs, avoiding the occasional drop of rain. Most of the shops are open, yet barely any tourists wander around. Not many furry residents are seen either.
But in front of one of the souvenir shops, a furry duo that could best be described as mischievous sit, observing their surroundings. These two look like they are up to no good usually but are now spotted in rare moments of rest. However, one couldn’t really say they are resting, as they are always planning the next misdeed. Tony is the mastermind behind their petty crimes, while Joe is more of a thug, doing the filthy jobs that require pure brute force and quite a bit of bluntness. Tony, being the intelligent one, uses his savviness to manipulate Joe into obeying him. Joe knows this, but he still loves Tony. Even though it might not be the healthiest relationship, Joe and Tony have each other’s backs, knowing that without one another, justice would quickly catch up with them.
Back home
A twenty-hour bus ride later, across the Balkans, and I arrived home. In the warm atmosphere of a house heated by a fireplace, Luna lies in her unique half-sitting position, leaning against the wall. Being a particularly grumpy cat, she shows her affection by curiously sniffing my hand and hesitantly scratching her head against it. Then she goes back to her usual cat business—licking her crotch, half-sleeping, and staring into nothingness for hours.
Seemingly, nothing extraordinary happens. Yet, who knows what worlds she sensed in that one brief sniff, as numerous visions from distant cities and fellow furry friends and enemies stirred her imagination?
