I suppose I could have put the kettle on and made myself a free cup of tea, but instead I thought I’d take advantage of the continued lack of snow and wander downhill for a drink and a chat in one of the few cafes still open.A glass of tea there costs TL 1.50 or whatever locals feel like leaving. Unfortunately, no sooner had I plumped myself down on a seat than a friend showed up who had been looking after my cats while I tripped off to Ankara. I owed him TL 40 which ratcheted my bill up to TL 41.50 immediately.
The friend departed happily. Then the cafe door flew open and in walked a sırtcı, one of that small band of men who wander from place to place with carpets draped down their backs, hence their name (back sellers). The professional carpet wholesalers know who their potential customers are and make a beeline straight for them which makes it hard for anyone to step in and scoop a bargain. The sırtcıs, on the other hand, are casual traders who tend to flock in during winter when times are hard and the sale of Aunty Fatma’s moth-eaten rug represents the difference between being able to pay the rent and falling into arrears.
The first sırtcıs I encountered rocked up at the Kelebek Pension one winter with two Yahyalı rugs for sale. They were an unprepossessing pair of salesmen, one of them with a scar down the side of his face that made him look like a pantomime villain.
Ali, the pension owner, shook his head sadly. He had no need of any more rugs. “What about you?” he asked me. I looked at the rugs doubtfully. Yahyalı is a small town near Kayseri which at that time still boasted one of the country’s few remaining carpet markets. The fact that the rugs had been made locally gave them a certain cachet, but at the same time I didn’t especially like the design. I too shook my head.
But just as the men were gathering up their wares again, Ali clinched the deal for them. “They’re a good price, Pat,” he said. “That house of yours is big. There’ll be a lot of floor to cover.”
The next thing I knew they were standing on my doorstep with the rugs and money was changing hands. One hundred million lira, I think it was -- about TL 100 in today’s currency.
Roll on the years and this new sırtcı was unrolling his offering -- a large Taşpınar carpet which he hoped would please the cafe owner. The cafe owner eyed it thoughtfully but it was clearly too big for the available space. Still hopeful, the sırtcı named his price and suddenly I heard my own voice piping up: “I think I’d like it please.” There’s my guestroom-to-be, you see, and there’s a lot of floor to cover.
The carpet was TL 150, a snip considering inflation. Shortly afterwards I drained my glass of tea and left the cafe a whole TL 191.50 poorer than I’d expected. (to be continued)
Pat Yale lives in a restored cave-house in Göreme in Cappadocia.
