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Blog Nr. 2: Meine Erfahrungen bei der Auswahl und Beschaffung der Outdoor-Teppiche - Martin Gabriel

Blog Nr. 2: Meine Erfahrungen bei der Auswahl und Beschaffung der Outdoor-Teppiche

in Martin Gabriel Blog Home

Wie alles begann: Die Suche nach den richtigen Partnern

Nachdem ich meine ersten Outdoor-Teppiche entwickelt hatte, wurde schnell klar:
Wenn ich dauerhaft hohe Qualität liefern möchte, brauche ich Manufakturen, die:

  • echte Expertise im Bereich Outdoor-Teppiche haben,

  • zuverlässig arbeiten,

  • schöne Designs umsetzen können,

  • und vor allem: gleichbleibende Qualität liefern.

Ich habe verschiedene europäische Firmen besucht, Gespräche geführt, Muster bestellt, alles ausprobiert — und ja, das hat viel Geld gekostet. Doch ich war mit einigen Dingen nicht vollständig d’accord: Die Qualität passte nicht immer, der Auftritt war nicht stimmig, oder das Gesamtgefühl hat einfach nicht gestimmt.

Und genau dieses Bauchgefühl ist mir extrem wichtig.

Mehrere farbige Garne für handgefertigte Outdoor-Teppiche, vorbereitet in einer indischen Manufaktur.

 

Der Gedanke an Indien – lange im Kopf, aber mit Vorbehalten

Indien war schon früh ein Thema für mich.
Dort liegt eine jahrhundertelange Textil- und Teppichtradition — Handwerkskunst, die man sonst kaum findet.

Aber:
Indien hat nicht gerade den Ruf höchster Zuverlässigkeit. Jeder, den ich fragte, sagte:

„Wir haben aufgehört, mit Indien zu arbeiten.“

Doch ich habe mich davon nicht beirren lassen.
Denn egal in welchem Land: Es gibt gute und weniger gute Firmen. Und ich wollte die richtigen finden.

 

Ein handgefertigter Outdoor-Teppich am traditionellen Webstuhl in Indien während der Produktion.


Der Schritt ins Unbekannte – und ein hohes finanzielles Risiko

Ich wusste: Wenn ich das mache, dann richtig.
Ich habe also investiert — viel.

Ich habe:

  • verschiedene Designs entwickelt,

  • unterschiedliche Stärken getestet,

  • Versionen mit und ohne Fransen bestellt,

  • viele Farbvarianten produziert,

  • und am Ende über 1000 m² Teppiche geordert.

Und das, obwohl ich die Manufaktur damals nur über Gespräche und Video-Calls kannte.

Es war ein kompletter Vertrauensvorschuss.
Ich habe Geld nach Indien geschickt — und musste dann 4–6 Monate warten, bis die Produktion fertig war.

Der Moment der Wahrheit: Ein LKW, neun Paletten und 70-Kilo-Teppiche

Eines Tages stand ein riesiger LKW vor meinem Lager.
Neun große Paletten. Jede voll mit Outdoor-Teppichen.

Ich hatte damals keinen Hubwagen, keine Struktur, kein professionelles Lager — gar nichts.
Ich habe jeden einzelnen Teppich über zwei Etagen getragen.
Manche Teppiche waren 3×4 Meter groß und wogen 60–70 Kilo.

Ich war nach diesem Tag komplett erledigt.
Aber: Es war einer der wichtigsten Tage meines Lebens.
Denn hier begann mein eigenes Outdoor-Teppich-Business.

Erste Kunden, erste Hotels, erste Fehler – und viel gelernt

Mit der Zeit habe ich mit:

  • Einrichtungshäusern

  • privaten Kunden

  • Hotels

  • Planern

  • und Architekten

gearbeitet.

Ich habe gelernt, was funktioniert, was nicht funktioniert, welche Farben laufen, welche weniger, was verschiedene Länder bevorzugen — und wie unterschiedlich Geschmäcker sein können.

Mir wurde z. B. am Anfang gesagt:

„Fransen funktionieren niemals bei Outdoor-Teppichen.“

Und genau die Teppiche mit Fransen waren die ersten, die ich verkauft habe.
So spielt das Leben.

Aloe-grüner Outdoor-Teppich mit feinen Fransen, fotografiert im Detail.

 

Warum Indien heute der beste Partner ist

Natürlich ist Indien weit weg.
Aber ich habe gelernt:

  • gute Firmen sind überall,

  • schlechte Firmen auch,

  • aber enge Partnerschaften, Vertrauen und Qualität** entstehen, wenn man dranbleibt und investiert — finanziell und emotional.

Heute habe ich:

  • die richtigen Manufakturen

  • sehr enge persönliche Kontakte

  • eine zuverlässige Lieferkette

  • starke Qualitätskontrollen

  • perfekt abgestimmte Farb- und Designpaletten

  • und Outdoor-Teppiche, die meinen Ansprüchen entsprechen

Ich habe alles von der Pike auf gelernt:
Transport, Verschiffung, Zoll, Papiere, Lager, Verpackung, Qualitätskontrollen — einfach alles.

Und genau deshalb kann ich heute ein Produkt anbieten, hinter dem ich zu 100 % stehe.

Was dieser Weg für meine Kunden bedeutet

Dieser lange Weg hat dazu geführt, dass ich heute:

  • schnelle Lieferzeiten anbieten kann

  •  Lagerware in der Schweiz habe

  • hochwertige Outdoor-Teppiche anbieten kann, die extrem langlebig sind

  • Designs habe, die sich an echten Bedürfnissen orientieren, nicht an Trends

  • und vor allem: echte Erfahrung aus der Praxis mitbringe

Das macht mein Sortiment heute so stark – und unterscheidet mich von vielen anderen Anbieter.

Zusammengerollte Outdoor-Teppiche der Martin Gabriel Kollektion, sauber gestapelt und im Detail fotografiert.
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Blog Nr.3 – Meine Erfahrungen mit Outdoor-Teppichen: Designs, Farben, Größen & regionale Unterschiede - Martin Gabriel

Blog Nr.3 – Meine Erfahrungen mit Outdoor-Teppichen: Designs, Farben, Größen & regionale Unterschiede

Auszug für Block 3: In Block 3 teile ich meine Erfahrungen mit Outdoor-Teppichen in der Schweiz: Wie unterschiedlich Farben und Designs in der Deutschschweiz, im Tessin und in der Romandie wahrgenommen werden – und warum diese Vielfalt meinen Weg geprägt hat.

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Blog Nr. 1 — Warum ich begonnen habe, Outdoor-Teppiche zu entwickeln - Martin Gabriel

Culture of the Alpine region: Traditions and customs

In the early morning light, cowbells ring out across the slopes, breath hangs like fine vapor in the cool air, and somewhere a barn door opens. Anyone who has experienced such a moment immediately senses that the Alps are not a mere backdrop, but a living cultural space. The unique characteristics that have developed there bear the marks of stone, weather, altitude, and community. They are not a museum, but rather a concert that has been played for centuries, in which new voices always find their place. Landscape as a cultural stage Steep slopes shape customs. Where fields are terraced and paths wind serpentine to the next farm, a culture of precision and mindfulness towards materials and time develops. Work is conceived in rhythms, in harmony with the seasons, snowmelt, the alpine cattle drive, and the harvest. Everyday knowledge is intricately woven: which meadow is mowed when, how to read clouds, how the slope behaves after heavy rain. The landscape connects. Valleys open to mountain passes, peaks are not boundaries but vantage points. Markets along the ridges and caravans circulating along the roads shaped social and economic networks for centuries, networks in which salt, cheese, fabrics, wine, and stories circulated. Culture flows here in both directions, from village to village, across language barriers. Languages, dialects and identity The Alps speak many languages, and their dialects carry geography in their sound. Bavarian and Tyrolean, Alemannic and Valais German, Ladin in the Dolomites, Romansh in the Engadine, Italian in the Aosta Valley, Slovenian in Carinthia and Friuli, French in Savoy. This diversity is not a mosaic of isolated stones, but rather a texture in which words migrate and idioms leave their mark. Dialects convey lived experience. A word for a specific pitchfork, a layer of snow that holds or breaks treacherously, an expression for the gentle urging of cattle. Those who listen hear about work, the weather, and their neighbors. Modern media level some things, yet at the same time, dialect is experiencing a confident revival on stage, in literature, and in music. Identity is thus revealed not as isolation, but as an open affirmation of origin and tradition. Festivals of the year: From Carnival to the cattle drive down from the mountain pastures The alpine calendar has rhythms that extend far beyond tourism. They mark transitions, give thanks for success, tame dark forces, or invite the community to the village center. Carnival and Perchten runs: masks, bells, clattering costumes that symbolically drive away winter. Hand-carved masks display wild, primal faces. Palm Sunday and Easter customs: Bound palm branches, processions, regional foods after the Lenten season. Mountain bonfires at Midsummer: chains of points of light across the ridges, a sign of unity and an ancient signal. Alpine cattle drive: In early summer, the cattle move to the highlands, accompanied by music and the colors of traditional dress. Cattle drive or cattle descent: The festively decorated cows come down to the valley when the alpine season has been accident-free. A moving expression of gratitude and a folk festival at the same time. Autumn and harvest festivals: wreaths, baskets, markets where cheese, nuts, grapes and chestnuts fill the tables. Advent and St. Nicholas Day, Krampus parades: between blessing and fear, old customs still hold their place. Each valley imbues these festivals with its own unique character. Some places emphasize silence and prayer, others boisterous processions with drums and bells. What they all share is the shared experience that time not only passes but can also be shaped. Music, sound and dance Music in the Alps feels intimately close to the body. Yodeling moves the chest, the alphorn and dulcimer send long notes across the sides, the hammered dulcimer clangs precisely, and violin parts dance on wooden floors. The instruments were created from whatever was readily available: wood, gut, metal. Their sound is adapted to the acoustics of the farmyards and taverns, to the echoes and humidity. Dancing is a social craft. In the Ländler dance, figures aren't recited from memory; they emerge organically through interaction. The Schuhplattler is more than just a show; it's communication, an interplay of rhythm and gestures, often humorous and playful. Modern ensembles build upon this tradition, blending jazz, electronic music, or contemporary poetry with motifs from folk music. In this way, the tradition remains vibrant without seeming like a museum piece. Traditional costume, craftsmanship and materials Traditional dress tells of origin and status, but above all, it speaks of an understanding of materials. Wool, linen, loden, fine embroidery, silver jewelry, and chamois beards are expressions of a region and its resources. The cuts follow function, not mere fashion. A jacket should keep you warm, not replace a waterproof membrane, and it should last for decades. Craftsmanship forms the basis of many everyday things: Wood carvings, from religious figures to masks used in winter Turned wood products and kitchen utensils, bowls, spoons, butter scoops Lichens made with hazel or willow for baskets, fish traps, and trawl nets. Felting, fulling, spinning, weaving, the production of loden fabrics Blacksmith work for fittings, bolts, bells This practice is accompanied by an appreciation for repair. Signs of wear and tear are not considered flaws; they demonstrate the relationship between person and object. Food from steep slopes: kitchen and storage Steep meadows and short summers shape the cuisine. Preservation techniques have become culinary arts: smoking, drying, fermenting, salting, and storing in cool cellars. The result is a cuisine that can be robust yet possesses subtle nuances. Think dumplings, polenta, rösti, barley soup, buckwheat and millet prepared according to traditional recipes, accompanied by mountain cheese, bacon, dried meat, flatbread, nuts, and honey. Alpine cuisine is practical. Breakfast must be nourishing, dinner fortifying. At the same time, there are also lighter celebrations: a Kaiserschmarrn that is caramelized and fluffy, a Marende with cheese, butter, bread, apple and wine. An overview shows the diversity: Region/Valley Specialties Key features Allgäu, Bregenzerwald Mountain cheese, cheese spaetzle, Riebel Dairy-rich landscape, strong hard cheeses, simple pastries Bernese Oberland, Valais Alpine cheese, raclette, dried meat, saffron AOP traditions, Valais saffron, viticulture on steep slopes Graubünden, Engadine Bündnerfleisch, Capuns, Pizokel Drying techniques, buckwheat, Surselva herbs Tyrol, Salzburg Bacon, cheese dumplings, Schlutzkrapfen Pressed cheese in a pan, filled pasta pockets South Tyrol, Dolomites Schüttelbrot, Schlutzer, Tirtlan, Lagrein Ladin influences, baking traditions, indigenous grape varieties Savoy, Aosta Valley Fondue, Tartiflette, Fontina Cheese from high altitudes, potato dishes, hearty cuisine Friuli, Carinthia Frigga, Polenta, Kletzenbrot Corn cultivation, dried fruit, Slovenian influences Cheese is a core element. Sbrinz, Appenzeller, Comté from the Jura near the Pre-Alps, Gruyère, Fontina, Puzzone di Moena, Bitto, Vacherin – each variety with its own microclimate and unique ripening process. A visit to an alpine dairy reveals the interplay of barn hygiene, fire in the kettle, rennet, and time. The taste becomes a slice of the landscape. Architecture and settlement patterns Building on a slope means planning with gravity in mind. Traditional log construction rotates the timbers to face the wind and sets them on a stone foundation that protects against moisture. Walser houses exhibit a refined lightness, while Bregenzerwald houses integrate living and working areas under a single, expansive roof. Engadine houses with sgraffito decoration testify to pride and meticulous craftsmanship. The shingle is more than just cladding; it's a breathable protection for the wood. Stone roofs lie heavy and withstand storms. Living rooms are heated with tiled stoves, their warmth slowly permeating the furniture and walls. Windowsills are deeper to capture light, and arbors become transitional spaces between inside and outside. In many places, dry stone walls shape the hillsides, retaining soil and creating habitats for lizards and herbs. Working in the mountains: Alpine farming and rights Alpine farming shapes the highlands. It encompasses summer grazing, the division of pastureland, the protection of young trees, and the work of the dairymaids and herdsmen. Livestock protection becomes part of daily life when wolves and bears return, and fences, dogs, and knowledge must work together. Haymaking is a choreography where weather windows and physical strength set the pace. Every movement has a purpose; every level of a hayloft tells the story of the winter's stores. Rights on the alpine pastures have developed historically, often organized cooperatively. Common lands regulate water, forests, grazing, and paths. These structures have preserved the use of these resources for generations without depleting them. Conflicts arise and are negotiated in the inn, in community halls, and during site visits. This culture of decision-making is part of the tradition. Myths, religion and rituals The mountains carry stories that seem nameless and ancient. Tatzelwurm, wild women, giants, hidden lakes that do not wish to be disturbed. Such legends explain dangers, teach respect for avalanche slopes and streams. In many places, religion takes a form close to the mountains. Wayside crosses, wayside shrines, chapels on spurs and saddles, processions that mark the paths. Pilgrimages connect valleys and create communities across borders. Mountain rituals are often simple: a blessing before the first hay harvest, a silent sign of the cross when the livestock returns safe and sound, a mountain mass in thanksgiving. At night, mountain fires shine as a symbol and a celebration. The combination of faith, nature, and village community creates a unique and lasting tradition. Border regions and networks: trade, muleteers, passes The Alps are not a wall. Their passes are crossroads where goods, languages, and ideas exchanged. Muleteers carried salt, spices, linen, and cheese. Paths were marked with cairns, and hospices offered shelter. With the construction of major mountain roads and later tunnels, the dynamics changed, but the exchange remained. Market days brought villages together; contracts were sealed with a handshake and bread. Journeymen craftsmen traveled, taking songs with them and leaving behind their techniques. The cuisine reflects these connections, as does the architecture. A window latch in Valais might be related to a piece of craftsmanship in Tyrol, because a blacksmith was on his journeyman's travels. Modern Impulses: Tourism, Protection and Change Tourism brought money, infrastructure, and jobs, but also new tensions. Those growing up experience the opportunities of mountain guide training and the pride of leading people safely to summits. At the same time, questions arise about how many beds a valley can support, when noise becomes harmful, and how to maintain trails without overusing them. The discussions are lively and constructive, and sensitive management is proving effective. Natural hazards are part of the system. Avalanche barriers, early warning systems, torrent control, protective forests, and the management of exclusion zones all contribute to this. The knowledge of older generations meets sensor technology and modeling. Climate change is shifting vegetation zones, glaciers are retreating, and permafrost is thawing. Communities are responding with ingenuity: adapting grazing management, conserving water, stabilizing slopes, and rethinking construction methods. Cultural responses become visible when new festivals preserve ancient meanings while simultaneously demonstrating sustainable practices. The Alpine Convention and regional agreements created a framework in which protection, use, and quality of life are negotiated jointly. This opens doors for projects that understand agriculture, crafts, energy, and mobility as interconnected issues. Small-scale cycles, good trains and buses, conscious construction, regional markets – all of these work together. Knowledge transfer and education in portrait format Alpine clubs, mountain rescue teams, alpine dairy farming courses, nature conservation groups, and village schools are schools without a traditional lecture hall. There, one learns how to tie a knot, when a slope is about to collapse, how a goat gives birth, how to shingle a board, and what a glacier tells us. This learning is practical, yet never anti-academic. Universities collaborate with valleys, develop materials research for wood, strategies for managing slope water, and concepts for sustainable tourism. Digital tools are welcome when they serve a purpose. An app shows the pasture boundary, a sensor reports when the stream is rising, a satellite image helps with forest conversion, and a platform connects small cheese dairies directly with customers. Technology complements, but does not replace, looking at the sky or having a chat over the garden fence. City and mountain: Division of labor with a future Large cities in the Alpine foothills attract skilled workers and send ideas back. Commuting is a reality, and co-working in mountain valleys is no longer unusual. Those who work three days a week in the valley and two days in the city need reliable networks, schedules, childcare, and healthcare. Municipalities are responding with flexible spaces that combine office, workshop, and cultural facilities. At the same time, there is a growing desire to strengthen regional value creation. A village bakery that uses local grain, a sawmill that makes smart use of deadwood and storm-damaged timber, an energy cooperative that combines hydropower with photovoltaics. From small links in the chain, something sustainable is created. Migration brings new languages ​​to the valley, new recipes, new craft ideas. Openness makes the Alps resilient. Protection of tranquility: Sound order and night Silence is a precious commodity. It transforms the sound of cowbells into music and gives space to one's own breath. Communities define quiet hours, hospitality businesses raise awareness, and event organizers plan with consideration for wildlife and residents. Light pollution is becoming a topic of discussion, and starry nights are once again visible when lamps are shielded and motion detectors are intelligently calibrated. The Alps can demonstrate how quality of life and vibrancy can coexist without sacrificing the sky. Practices with a future Many Alpine customs offer answers to questions that extend far beyond the valleys. They are concrete, unspectacular, and precisely because of this, effective. Repairing instead of discarding: shoemaker, tailor, blacksmith, shingle maker. Training and passing on these skills create meaningful professions. Circular economy on a small scale: manure becomes humus, wood chips generate heat, whey becomes animal feed. Every by-product finds a place. Resilient mobility: on-demand buses, shared taxis, cable cars as public transport, promotion of cycling with energy-saving infrastructure. Custom-made timber construction: regional woods, good details against moisture, vapor-permeable walls, long service life, easy deconstruction. Local food: weekly markets with clear origin information, community gardens, seed projects that ensure diversity. Hospitality with substance: Less, but better. Extending the season through cultural events, craft workshops, and nature days instead of mass tourism during peak season. There's an old saying in some valleys: "No alpine pasture, no valley." It encompasses more than just agriculture. It speaks of the mutual support between the highlands and the lowlands, between stagnation and movement, between preservation and innovation. The culture of the Alps demonstrates how rich a region becomes when work, festivals, language, food, and architecture listen to one another. Those who have practiced this listening carry it with them wherever their path leads.

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