Rugs (updated)

Oriental rug sales pitches are the same all over the world. The group is shown into an area where a few people — usually women — are seated at looms, weaving rugs. Next, the silk worms are displayed. Then the group is ushered into a room, seated and served tea, and several guys start unrolling rugs onto the floor with great ceremony. Then the hard sell begins.

We have been through the same routine in China, India, Egypt, and possibly a couple other countries. They all run together. We knew this was rug day on the itinerary. We brought books to read. The sales guys quickly got the message that we weren’t buying. But the group stayed through lunch, and several rugs were sold to others in the group. The rug guys had an OK day.

After lunch, the bus drove us inland to a small city called Mugla (pronounce MOO-lah) that doesn’t see a lot our tourists. This is the most “liberal” part of Turkey, and there were very, very few women with head scarves. The people could have been in any American city.

Our tour leader took us through an area of small shops and cafes that were entirely catering to locals. That didn’t stop us, and others in the group, from buying things. A shoe repairman even glued a small rip in my shoe for nothing.

At the edge of this area we entered a courtyard that now comprises sort of an artists colony. A man who “marbles” paper demonstrated the process. We’d not seen anything like it. It involved a pan of water, with pigments applied to the water surface.

The artist manipulated the floating pigments with a smal stylus. Then, a large sheet of paper was carefully placed over the water surface, and after a few seconds, pulled off again. The pigments had transferred to the paper from the water. The colors were vivid and the designs rather astounding.

Back on the bus, we completed the journey to Mamaris, a seaside resort town. There we boarded our “gullet,” essentially a two-masted schooner. The boat has beautiful teek decks, and a very pleasant main deck for sitting and eating and talking. The cabins are quite small, but functional.

The gullet left the dock and moved to a cove across the bay, from which the sights and sounds of Mamaris were still very much with us. Loud techno-rock from one of the night clubs sent a pounding beat across the water. Dinner was on deck, and quite good. But as the music from shore continued, we needed to resort to earplugs in order to sleep.