I've been to Ypres many times over the years, but on my May 2015 visit I was surprised to be greeted with an onslaught of cats. Not real cats, mind you, but on that trip, I observed countless people walking around the beautiful medieval town in stylish cat outfits, all sorts of feline objets d'art being peddled and kitten-themed posters plastered everywhere advertising a forthcoming event titled "Kattenstoet" that somehow involved a Rose Bowl/Thanksgiving Day-style parade with floats, balloons, bands, and marching groups.
Well, sadly, I missed the parade, being kept busy leading a group around Ypres's #1 tourist attraction—the surrounding World War One battlefields combined with the nightly Last Post ceremony. I was, however, enthused by all the catnip in the air, and I resolved to plan a future tour to correspond with the next Kattenstoet and include an itinerary allocating sufficient time for attendance at the big parade. However as 2018 approached (did I mention the festival is a triennial event?) my planning got steered by the centennial events for the Great War's conclusion and I wasn't able to schedule a tour in May. That was my last year of traveling to Europe, so I guess I'll never experience Kattenstoet in person.
Yet, I'm still a reporter and still have the readers of Roads to the Great War to report to. So, here's some background on the Ypres Cat Festival borrowed from the New York Times and elaborated on by me.
In the Middle Ages, when Ypres main industry was textiles, they used cats to keep their wool warehouses free of mice and other vermin. When the felines began reproducing too quickly (and probably pooping on and clawing apart the fabrics), town officials developed a ghastly an imaginative solution. During the second week of Lent, on a re-designated “Cat Wednesday,” surplus especially naughty cats were tossed to their deaths from atop the Cloth Hall tower onto the town square below. At the time, the animals were seen as symbols of witchcraft and evil, so their sacrificial deaths were celebrated. Apparently, a joyous time was had by all at these mass executions, except by the kitties, of course.
The last live cat was reportedly thrown in 1817, but Ypres civic leaders reinvented Kattenstoet in 1937 as a tradition to atone for the city’s gruesome anti-feline history, curry favor with the international alliance of cat lovers, and increase tourism revenues for the locals. On all these goals, they've succeeded admirably—just look at the crowds in the photos above.
The humdinger of a parade, now held on the second Sunday in May, is filled with elaborate floats, musicians, costumed performers, and some just indescribable stuff. [See previous photo.] Given its origins, the modern version is surprisingly and overwhelmingly cat friendly, with mice and rats now playing the designated villains. Nevertheless, in admirable fidelity to its origins, at the grand conclusion, a person dressed as a jester tosses simulated, non-organic cats from the belfry of the Cloth Hall down to the street before the thousands of onlookers who, in the YouTube video I watched, cheer enthusiastically. [Somewhere in the proceedings—surely—some official announcement must be made to the effect, "No living cats were murdered during this event."] There is also a ritual witch burning as part of the festival, but I've been unable to determine whether that is merely symbolic or actual.
In any case, should you be in the vicinity of Ypres, Belgium, on 8-9 May 2027, I'd recommend dropping by for the next Kattenstoet.
From your editor, MH
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