A magic carpet ride to the heart of Turkey
Justine Tyerman is a New Zealand journalist, travel writer and sub-editor. Married for 36 years, she lives in rural surroundings near Gisborne on the East Coast of New Zealand with her husband Chris. In this piece, she discovers there are times when valour is definitely the better part of discretion in Selcuk, Turkey.
The flying carpet men of Selçuk, near the ancient ruins of Ephesus off Turkey's Aegean coast, dazzled us as they made their exquisite works of art twirl and swirl and fly through the air, laying them out 10-deep on the display room floor.
They were polished showmen, actors on stage in a carpet theatre, and they had performed their play a thousand times before. There was an undeniable degree of excitement as we watched the strong young Turks hoist the heavy carpet rolls on to their shoulders, and spin them effortlessly across the room like frisbees, landing with a soft thump and a whoosh of air.
Earlier that day, we had watched young women creating these handmade masterpieces, seated at their looms, double knotting every minute strand.
They were village girls whose training in the ancient art of carpet weaving was being sponsored by the government. It provided excellent part time work for women in the villages, our guide on the Ancient Kingdoms Classical Turkey tour Mehmet Kaplan told us.
The art of carpet making was dying until about 20 years ago because people were moving to the cities and the young were not interested in learning the traditional arts and trades.
“Everyone wants to go to university and be the boss these days,” Mehmet said.
So the government instituted a training programme for artisans providing weaving courses, looms, materials and patterns to young women.
“In a male-oriented society, weaving provides good employment for women in the villages. They can work from home, three or four hours a day, organising their time around the needs of their families,” Mehmet said.
The carpets are exported free of charge, even as far as New Zealand, with all shipping costs paid for by the government in a smart move to rejuvenate the industry.
A young carpet weaver takes a break from her work at the loom. Image credit: Justine Tyerman
The carpets made at the Galata Carpet Weavers’ Centre were cotton on a cotton base, silk on a silk base, wool on a cotton base, or wool on a wool base.
The largest carpets, wool on wool, take two women about two years to complete.
Those working on the silk carpets have to take a break every 20 minutes as the threads are so fine and the work so highly concentrated.
Silk carpets have up to 484 knots per square centimetre and because they are double knotted, you can hold a heavy carpet by just a thread... if you are strong enough.
Each silk worm produces about a kilometre of thread, an exceptionally-strong fibre used for making parachutes and sutures for eye surgery. It can even be used to cut marble, we’re told.
We watched a young woman immerse the silk worm cocoons in a vat of hot water and use a brush to draw out the strands which are then draped over eyelets and wound on to spools by a foot-operated treadle.
I could have spent hours watching the silk worm process and the sweet-faced, highly-skilled, modest young women at work at their looms.
But it was time to move from the backroom to the action in the showroom. Trays of wine and raki appeared along with a warning from Mr Carpet, executive salesman Racai, that after two glasses of Turkey’s signature anise-flavoured alcohol “you will feel like a lion - invincible”.
The raki obviously affects one’s judgement too because I instantly fell in love with a ridiculously-expensive, completely impractical pale green and pink silk-on-silk carpet. It was radically different from the other brightly-coloured carpets and you wouldn’t dream of putting it on a floor.
I reclined on ‘my’ carpet, stroking the cool surface, as soft and smooth as a kitten’s coat, examining the perfect workmanship on the reverse side as we had been instructed to do, and studying the changing colours depending on the viewing angle. I pictured it hanging on a wall at home.
One of the sharp-eyed salesmen spotted me purring over the carpet and skilfully manoeuvred me into a private room where he proceeded to display another 10 or so carpets of a similar colour and design. I explained there was no way I could afford any of the carpets, so he began to produce numerous less expensive, non-silk versions... but it was no use, I was smitten and only wanted that one carpet.
When the charming Mustafa realised he was not going to succeed, he smiled, shook my hand, thanked me politely and returned me to the showroom past various rooms where many deals were being done. Buyers were signing the labels on the underside of their carpet to verify that was the one they had selected and they were wrapped up on the spot ready for shipping.
As we drove away, our coach load of ‘Kiwaussies’ were talking animatedly about their purchases, showing each other photos on their iPads. I felt glum and left out but comforted myself with the knowledge I had bought a gorgeous silk leather jacket and exquisite hand-painted pottery bowl the previous day. However, I’ll always regret being sensible and leaving my lovely carpet behind. Every now and then, especially when travelling on the other side of the world, valour is definitely the better part of discretion.
Have you visited Turkey? Share your travel experience in the comments below.
*Turkey’s silk carpets come from Kayseri in Cappadocia and Hereke in Istanbul. They start with a minimum of 8x8 double knots per square cm (64) and go up to 22x22 (484).
Justine Tyerman travelled on a 10-day Ancient Kingdoms Classical Turkey tour, courtesy of Innovative Travel.
She flew Emirates to Istanbul.