Ask Carpetblogger: How do you clean your carpets?

Until this week, my answer has been, "I don't."

The likelihood an elective activity like carpetwashing gets done is inversely proportional to the number of linguistic and logistical obstacles that stand in its way. Not only must I identify a qualified carpet cleaning professional, that person has to come get the carpets. Furthermore, moving stinky carpets around is a royal pain in the ass any time of the year, more so when it is 100 degrees and you are on your own. These are all significant obstacles.

On the other hand, I have carpetdogs, so my carpets are pretty damn dirty. Smelly too. That workhorse 6' x 5' Dagestan sumac that was in the dining room in Baku and Kyiv absorbed prodigious amounts of food and alcohol from Sunday dinners and parties. These factors make carpetwashing less elective and more imperative.

Most importantly, however, if you're moving into a new apartment with Ottoman-era wood floors that appear to be designed for your favorite carpets (or, looking at it another way, if you made your second real estate purchase based on how good your carpets will look), you cannot have dirty carpets.

So what to do?

One thing you'll notice about Istanbul is that there are a lot of carwashes. Because Turks are enterprising, rare is the carwash that is only used for washing cars. For example, because they can be hosed down, carwashes are ideal places for a bayram sacrifice -- a ritual slaughter of sheep and cows and a right bloody mess. More frequently, however, carwash guys are as likely to be aiming their high pressure hoses and soap brushes at carpets hanging from wires as Anadolu sedans.

"No carpet of mine is going to a skanky carwash!" I sniffed.

Turns out, that's pretty much wrong. A few weeks ago, I called a carpet dealer and he came to get three of them. They came home all shiny and reptilian, smelling of clean wool rather than dirty dog. I fell in love with them all over again.

Apparently, they went to a carwash. According to my sources, that's standard Istanbul carpetwashing procedure.

If this is the case, I thought, why not just cut out the middleman and go talk to the guys at the carwash near my house?

Fortunately, my Turkish has progressed to the point where I can negotiate such a transaction. I hopped into the guy's 1967 green jeep Cherokee and we sped up the street to my house. He threw them in the back and took off. Receipt? Hells no.  I've been able to track their progress as I pass by with the carpetdogs. They've been drying on the roof of the carwash in the scorching June sun.

I was only going to get a couple carpets washed, but why stop with six? I've got another eight ready to go. The remaining eight might wait, or I might send them to the car wash too.

Comments

[Esmerelda]

And how many pennies did it cost?

[Kim H]

We have zillions of these "lavash's" in Tirana too! I have been wondering if I could get my dog washed there!

[carpetblogger]

"Es," I just got three BIG carpets (that huge sumac being one) done for 36 YTL, delivered, or about $27. I paid 60 YTL to have have 3 smaller ones done, arranged by the carpetdealer.

A car(pet)dogwash is a genius idea! So much better than the shower.

[Pat Temiz]

My carpets also get washed alongside cars and here in rural Fethiye it costs all of 1YTL per square metre - though they don't collect and deliver.

[Vagabondblogger]

After working as a social worker, visiting clients, and walking on carpeting coated with unknown sticky substances, plus experiencing an exploding squirt bottle of ketsup all over a machine made carpet, I have banned carpets from the dining area. I've also banned rawhide dog chews too. That carwash idea is brilliant, though!

[varske]

And I thought it was just in Pristina that car washes did carpets on slow days.

[Vilhelm Konnander]

Dear Carpetblogger,

Have you tried putting the carpets out in the snow during winter? At least, that is what many carpet-dealers I have met recommend. Then, of course, there is the question which is the dirtiest - the carpets or the snow - at least if you live in Istanbul. That is, if there is any snow at all during winter.

Speaking about carpets, it seems that me and my wife pose in the outskirts of Barbara Nadel's latest novel "A Passion for killing" that deals with carpet collectors. At least, our main carpet dealer is mentioned in the the foreword, and the brief description of a Swedish couple interested in camel and salt bags as well as nomadic rugs fits us perfectly. I mean, there cannot be that many of us...

Yours,

Vilhelm

[Robyn]

Hey - you were linked on Global Voices Online. Or maybe you already knew that. At any rate, congrats on the free pub!

http://www.globalvoicesonline.org/2007/06/26/turkey-is-typingfavorite-posts-of-the-week/

[Elizabeth]

It's so much easier in Soviet Central Asia. You just toss your carpet into the middle of the road, put Iranian laundry detergent on it, and pay street urchins to scrub it for an hour. They take as little as 30 cents apiece. Plus you can get that classic faded look so easily as the cars roll over your carpets again and again and again.