After the churches, palaces, museums, and mosques, what I've loved most about Istanbul is the street life. The smells of food cooking, charcoal, oranges and cherries being squeezed; the sights of the thousands of people in all versions of dress, from extreme fundamental clothing to western dress, punk clothes, sports jerseys, and the more laic local clothing like beige trousers and vests, modest dresses and scarves; the cars inching their way along the cobblestone streets; and, of course, the sounds of prayers being called at the mosques, and the music of the many street musicians and groups in our musical neighborhood...it all rolls up to an incredible and powerful and breathtaking sweep of life. And life in the big city here, at least, is very good.
click the cats to enlarge
Somehow this enormous metropolis has managed to remain all too human. In all the time I've been here, I've yet to see an angry word or any contention of any kind on the streets. The only honking of cars is a quick beep to let the pedestrians know to move over. When the car passes, you go back on the street, since the sidewalks are always filled with cafes, people talking, cats, vendors, and merch. carts. You constantly shuffle between the streets and steps and the sidewalk.
The streets are amazing, vital and inspiring. And the people walking the streets are almost all talking and seem in great spirits.
And then, there are the cats. There are street cats everywhere here, and people treat them with great love. You see people feed them and there are bowls of water along almost any street. People (and us too) often bend down to pat a cat sleeping on a stoop or in a planter, or on the sidewalk. They range from well-cared for and well-fed to not quite feral; but even the lean scraggly ones seem collectively cared for. How sweet it is to see that.
---o0o---
Somehow this enormous metropolis has managed to remain all too human. In all the time I've been here, I've yet to see an angry word or any contention of any kind on the streets. The only honking of cars is a quick beep to let the pedestrians know to move over. When the car passes, you go back on the street, since the sidewalks are always filled with cafes, people talking, cats, vendors, and merch. carts. You constantly shuffle between the streets and steps and the sidewalk.
The streets are amazing, vital and inspiring. And the people walking the streets are almost all talking and seem in great spirits.
And then, there are the cats. There are street cats everywhere here, and people treat them with great love. You see people feed them and there are bowls of water along almost any street. People (and us too) often bend down to pat a cat sleeping on a stoop or in a planter, or on the sidewalk. They range from well-cared for and well-fed to not quite feral; but even the lean scraggly ones seem collectively cared for. How sweet it is to see that.
---o0o---
2 comments:
Ah, Istanbul. I dont' know if you ever heard Sean's Turkish travel story. He and Lori concluded their 1989 European trip in Turkey and on their return to the states stopped in NYC to visit the newly born, Turn. They gushed about Istanbul and the Turks. Sean and Lori told of boarding an outbound bus for a day trip in the country. After traveling for 45 minutes Sean discovered that he had left his insulin case and all the trimmings behind. He grew nervious that he wouldn't be able to replace it on the road and had no recourse but to disboard and make their way back to town. In French, they were able to convey the situation to the driver who simply and pleasantly turned the rig around and returned to the city. And none of the passerngers raised a squawk.
Later while waiting in a Amex office line they struck up a conversation with a fellow American and told her of the unfathomable patience and kindness of the Turkish people. She had her own story. Apparently, the night before, she had taken a sleeping pill after she returned from dinner in a cab. She fell into a deep sleep. When she woke the next morning the desk clerk said that a cab driver was outside who insisted on seeing her. She had left her pocket book with passport and cash in his cab and since the desk clerk hadn't been able to reach her the evening before he had decided to spend the night in his cab outside the hotel so that he could return her pocketbook. Of course, he refused any reward.
Happy and safe travels to all the Brummets & Curran
I absolutely believe this about this country and people. But that story is above and beyond. Wow. Thanks for the story! More soon...
johnnie
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