I hopped the ditch between street and sidewalk and arrived in front of the carpet shop I intended to patronize, only to find the door latched and no one there. This one had been recommended to me because of the friendliness of its owner, variety of its wares, and perhaps most importantly, the guy who owned the shop next door was pushy. Well, with the owner nowhere in sight and not wanting to linger on the sidewalk, off I went to the shop nextdoor.

I generally don’t so much mind pushy shop owners. They want to make a sale, you are presumably a buyer, and I’m sure that their ministrations and insistence must get them positive results or they wouldn’t do it. It is true, if you think about it, that just browsing is so much easier if the person behind the counter hardly looks up from their magazine (or phone) to give you a nod. I’ve had that experience many times in the states, and I do appreciate being left alone when I don’t intent to buy anything. But then, that’s essentially me treating their shop as a no-hassle way of examining the wares, and even when you do that in the biggest shop in the world, the internet, you’re paying for the privilege and whoever is keeping the lights on and the door open. So, like I said, I don’t so much mind being encouraged to buy something if I’m visiting a place where someone is making a living selling things. That logic aside, I’m also relatively unbothered by pushy salespeople. If I want something, I’ll get it. If I don’t, or I don’t like the price, then thank you so much for the help, but I’m leaving now (with a smile, of course). I digress.

I was kindly ushered into the nextdoor carpet shop and as soon as I was inside the shopkeeper draped a dingy lace curtain across the entryway, thereby slowing down any other potential entrants long enough for him to go over and politely tell them what I can only imagine was along the lines of “you have to come back later, this American lady is going to buy a carpet.” Whatever it was he said, no one who came to the doorway was allowed entry while I was inside. Which, really, makes for rather a nice shopping experience, particularly when you’re buying something which must first be spread out across the available floorspace. So, of course, the first thing that happens is the man starts spreading out carpets. He began with the fanciest, of course, the silk carpets from who knows where, that are certainly beautiful but not what I was in the market for. To be honest, I didn’t really know what I was in the market for, so I needed to see all the possibilities before I could make a choice.

Silk carpets, wool carpets, old carpets (used), kilims, small, large, runner style, prayer rug, and room size. This man only had two 4 foot stacks, a few on the floor, and rolled carpets along one small wall in stock. The smaller selection was part of the reason I wanted to go to the other shop, but I thought I might as well take a look here since my colleagues were still grocery shopping across the way and I didn’t have anything else to do. Luckily, I was immediately drawn to the kilims this man had, and I saw three or four before being absolutely certain I knew which one I wanted. I wasn’t particularly in the mood to prevaricate for hours over a fancier carpet (I’ll be doing that sometime in the next few days instead) though I was also partial to a lovely big wool carpet he had thrown out in view.
The only evidence of pushiness I saw was that when my desires were clear he said “how much for two?” about 30 times and didn’t know enough (or let on that he did) English to understand my hesitating words. Either way, I didn’t want them both, but I wanted to look around a little more first, so I did, and he gave up at some point and went and talked to a woman in a burka who stopped by the doorway with her teenage son. I have no idea what their conversation was about, but I would feel terrible if he had turned her away just so I could let my eyes drift over old silver jewelry, palm-sized chunks of raw lapis lazuli, old bowls, and the like. Nothing I have heard about the wearing of the blue burka with mesh for an eye-window has indicated that it is in any way comfortable, and I hope I didn’t prolong her shopping trip unintentionally. Perhaps she was a relative of the shopkeeper and they were just passing news.

And I LOVE my kilim! I think it’s beautiful. It’s spread out here on the floor of my room next to me as I write this. Kilim are differently made than carpets. Carpets are composed of tiny little pieces of yarn knotted onto the background woven textile. Kilims, on the other hand, are flat woven and the pattern is produced by the weft strands (horizontal, colored), with the warp strands (vertical) hidden by pulling the weft very tightly.¹ ² However, the kilim I now have was embroidered after the original textile was woven, creating the pattern through needle and thread. I believe this is what is called a “suzani kilim.”³

Hand embroidered. As a knitter, I know what it’s like to use what I’d say were small needles, and how the inches seem to be stuck in molasses rather than flying off the needles like water. This entire kilim, which must be about 4’ x 6’, is almost completely covered in stitched patterns. The back side shows the knots made after each color and pattern were completed. To me, this is an unbelievable amount of work. Wielding a needle and thread for that long, and in such minute detail, makes me shudder.
I’m sure it would take these artists at least 50x less time to make than me, who can barely stitch a hole without it looking like a Frankenstein scar, but no matter how good you are, this must have taken quite a long time to make. I would happily have paid more if I knew the profits were going to the source and not to the middle-man.

A quick side-note before I signoff: I wish I could share more photos of the people and the shopping experience, but it’s not entirely polite to take those kinds of pictures here. I am particularly not allowed to take photos of women – any women. Back home, we take pictures of everything; here, that’s not the case. When you’re taking photos you’re very much a tourist and, depending on the situation, I feel uncomfortable making someone so clearly an object. I had that experience once, where a tourist wanted to take a picture of me, and then WITH me, and it did not leave me with warm feelings towards the tourist, and by extension, their tour group and country/culture of origin. I know we are all individuals and one rude tourist is not the same as another, but the association remains and is hardly in our control. In any case, I’m sorry not to be sharing pictures of people right now. Maybe next time!

Mila