Story: Rugs and Ruins

What we had seen of Turkey seemed very European so far. The only noticeable outward difference from much of Western Europe was the Islamic influence: mosques instead of churches, the call to prayer instead of church bells. Other effects of Islam are the cleanliness of public spaces, the availability of water, and the people’s sense of hospitality. Unfortunately, this obligation to be welcoming has bled into sales pitches: “Hello friend, have some tea, would you like to see a fine Turkish carpet?... I will show you the way to the best store in town... Speak English, Frances, Espanyol? At your service, friend.” After a couple days of this, we were finished with Turkish hospitality!

The morning after we arrived, we left the rental car in the parking lot for Ephesus, an ancient Roman city, only to then be herded into a dolmus (public van) that would supposedly take us to the main entrance. However, it made a ‘quick stop’ along the way... to a carpet factory. We were ushered through several rooms by a man probably in his late fifties and dressed in a suit. First, a young woman demonstrated how the silk worms are soaked in hot water to loosen their cocoons. The silk is unraveled with a metal brush, and then the hundreds of delicate strands are spun into one fine silk thread. Next, we watched several young women sitting at their looms, weaving various rugs that differ by their patterns, knots, types of thread used, colors, and regional styles. The man would direct the girls to slow down their knots, so that we could see in slow motion the work of their nimble fingers.

I had read how young carpet weaving girls are overworked and underpaid, but it would seem that the salesman read my mind because he mentioned how well these women are treated. They work for the government, he said, rather than a private factory where shop owners work their weavers up to 15 hours a day. These young women only work 8 hours a day. I wondered how long their hands and eyes would last before they were forced to find another line of work.

Finally, we were directed to a small room lined with low seats. We were expecting the free tea to start flowing, but perhaps the salesman did not expect much action because he never offered us any. Three young men joined us and began rolling out beautiful carpets, as the salesman threw words at us faster than we could keep up. “Goat hair, 2000 YTL, Persian style, Kurdish, lamb’s wool, 3000 YTL, antique, a typical pattern, unique.” We found that if we paid close attention to any particular style or color, it would be reproduced in the next few selections. As we were all drawn to the reds, the carpets piled one on top of the other began to fill the room with tulip red, brick red, blood red, rose red, poppy red, red, red, red! Each carpet would snap open and then float to the ground, faster than our eyes could take it all in. Some carpets would suddenly be spun into the air and land in another direction, to demonstrate how they change their colors depending on the angle from which they are seen. I made the mistake of assuming that smaller carpets would be cheaper, and so I started making sounds of pleasure over a couple of foot rugs with exotic birds gracing gardens of reds and blues. “Pure silk, 2000 YTL...” So I quickly redirected my attention to some larger rugs with plainer designs.

We finally settled our communal and full attention on several medium-sized Kurdish rugs that looked old and somewhat worn, in a way that made them almost more desirable. The bargaining began. My mother took over this part of the game and we became spectators, making hushed sounds of approval or disgust depending on the numbers being thrown around. My mother bought three rugs for a wholesale price and we were all impressed. We left the carpet factory feeling like we had played the game well, and we were ready for Ephesus. At least as ready as anyone can be for such a grandiose sight...

Ephesus is the best-preserved classical city in the eastern Mediterranean. It was a center for the cult of the Anatolian fertility goddess, Cybele, who was later named Artemis by the Ionians, and then Diana by the Romans. Roman Ephesus was the capital of Asia Minor and it drew immigrants from all around the empire. But as the harbor silted up, the sea was pushed back and Ephesus began to decline and was eventually abandoned in the 6th century CE. Remains are surprisingly intact, however, and include a gymnasium, a theater, many houses and shops, and the famous Library of Celsus. Although only the façade of the library remains, one can imagine its inner walls lined with 12,000 scrolls, one of the most important libraries of its time after that of Alexandria, back when books were a treasured rarity. Statues of the Virtues: Goodness, Thought, Knowledge and Wisdom, still remind the visitor to enter in the proper state of mind.

Although I have visited spectacular Greek and Roman ruins before, Ephesus is, well, more fun! Unlike its counterparts in Athens and Rome, visitors are allowed to climb around the ruins freely, moving in and out of quiet rooms overgrown now with weeds and herbs and flowers. We recognized garlic, fennel, artichokes, and any number of flowers, and noted that many of these things were probably as old as the stone ruins, surviving the comings and goings of generations and empires, and still thriving. We could literally walk in the footsteps of the Romans, experience what their cool stone walls felt like to the touch, what the marble-paved Sacred Way felt like under foot. Only the remaining mosaics are forbidden to walk on, understandably.

My mother and I passed a snake pouncing on its prey on a hill directly above the Fountain of Trajan. Typical of my mother, as I jumped back in fear she ran towards the reptile with glee, shouting “Oh cool, a snake!” A light rain sprinkled us at one point, and we were glad for its cooling effect.

We ended our tour sitting at the edge of what appeared to be the remains of a city plaza, eating fresh cherries and taking in the towering city of stone behind us. We decided that, after visiting the City of the Goddess, our next stop should be Meryemana, the House of the Virgin Mary.

It is believed that St. Paul lived in Roman Ephesus around 60 CE, and that St. John and the Virgin Mary settled here several years before that, around 37-45 CE. In the 19th century, a German nun, Catherina Emmerich, received visions of the house of Mary at Ephesus. Her descriptions were used to explore the site, and sure enough, an old house was discovered on the slope of Mt. Coressos, about 9km outside of Ephesus. The site was authenticated by Pope Paul VI in 1967, and pilgrims have been flocking to the house ever since. The pilgrims are Muslims and Christians, as Meryemana (Mother Mary) who bore Isa Peygamber (the Prophet Jesus) is an important figure in Islam, as well.

The house is quite small, only one room that has been transformed into a tiny chapel. The path is a steep climb up the side of the mountain, and reminded me of similar climbs to holy sites in Rome. We were shushed by a nun at the chapel entrance, and herded through somewhat quickly by the crowd, but we stayed long enough to light several candles in honor of the people who have left us too soon, and offer their souls into the hands of the Goddess. On the way back down the mountain, we passed a stone wall covered in everything from pieces of torn T-shirts to candy wrappers to tissues, the wishes and hopes and prayers of thousands of pilgrims before us. I had the thought that, in the presence of the Goddess, death can only be understood as the necessary sister of birth. Whether she is named Cybele, Artemis, Diana or Mary, she is still there reminding us of the reverence people once held for the strength and courage of Woman, a silent offering to the Holy Feminine that continuously gives life and takes it away again, in the neverending cycle of rebirth.