The sound of the Turkish reed flute, or ney, drifts through the warm afternoon air. It's a dreamy, breathy sound which, so the Sufi mystics say, evokes the ageless perfection of the Garden of Eden.
Today, however, it's wafting across the dining-room of St Mary's Community Centre in Rathmines, Dublin where some young Turks have come to play Turkish classical music for the pensioners who are bussed in here daily for a hearty lunch. And, after a slightly baffled beginning, the audience are loving it.
"They're such sad songs," says Vera Tonge. "But, of course, we Irish have a lot of sad songs too. And the drum they use - it's very like the bodhrán."
"I thought it was gorgeous - very restful," is Eileen Veale's verdict. And speaking of rest, Warren O Connell wants to make something quite clear. "I hope that young man didn't think I was asleep while he was playing," he says. "I was actually listening with my eyes closed. It was so beautiful."
At 82, we'd all be forgiven for slipping into a post-prandial doze on a sunny day: but Warren, a writer and poet who is still penning playful satires on such contemporary cultural phenomena as Big Brother, is very much awake.
Has he ever visited Turkey? "No, but I had a Turkish friend who used to come to the Dublin Writer's Workshop many yers ago," he says. "And I find the same delightful gentleness in these people. In fact, at a time when everyone is getting the wind up about militant Muhammadans, they're like gentle rain from heaven."
Which is precisely the point. Ali Kiymaz - who, the musical part of the performance over, is busy showing the pensioners how Turks welcome guests to their houses with rose water poured into the upturned palms - and ney player Ahmet Dede, who's passing around generous chunks of what the Irish call "Turkish delight" and the Turks call lokum, probably couldn't have expressed their mission better themselves. They represent the Turkish-Irish Educational and Cultural Society (TIECS), a registered charity founded in 2005 to "promote, teach, study, advance education and encourage interest in and knowledge of the culture, history, people, and language and tradition generally of Turkey and the Turkish people".
To this end the group has, to date, organised a conference in Trinity College, Dublin which featured speakers from Judaism, Islam and Christianity. It plans to bring a group of whirling dervishes to the RDS on November 22nd. It runs weekly Turkish-language lessons; and it will happily organise a getting-to-know-you evening for anyone, anywhere. If he's free, Ahmet might even come and bring his ney. He's in Dublin to study English with a view to taking a PhD in sports psychology - though at the moment, he's engrossed in his first lesson in the Irish language, courtesy of Vera. "Conas tawtu?" he offers. "Tá mé go maith," she tells him, amid a flurry of laughter on both sides.
Such are the small steps with which cultural integration begins. But this modest event is connected to a very big aspiration indeed. The Islamic scholar Fethullah Gülen, whose ideas on social reform and world peace made him one of Turkey's best-known public figures in the 1960s, is the inspiration behind what is often referred to as "the Gulen movement", a loose coalition of autonomous voluntary groups such as TIECS. This dynamic interpretation of Islam seeks a middle way between modernity and Muslim tradition, and is rooted in educational projects and inter-faith dialogue at all levels.
It's a far cry from the "them and us" politics of fundamentalists, whether Muslim or Christian. In fact Gulen's philosophy is much closer to the kind of liberal Christian theology which regards religion not as a set of beliefs, but as a journey - the most important point about the journey not being its end, but the help one can offer to fellow travellers along the way. It is, therefore, particularly apt that TIECS is offering Irish
people an up-close and personal encounter with Turkish culture in the form of a series of short, subsidised visits to the country.
"A fantastic trip," says Bernard Coady of his seven-day visit in June. He and the other members of the small group were shown around the sites and museums of Istanbul, strolled through the semi-tropical gardens of the Mediterranean city of Antalya, attended midday prayer at a mosque and marvelled at the early Christian rock churches of Cappadocia. His favourite bit, though, was Konya. "It's where the Sufi poet Rumi lived, and it's a really wonderful and interesting place," says Bernard.
Another trip is set to depart on September 1st, and there are a few places left. If you're up for it, and Irish, and have a week and €500 to spare - this includes international and domestic flights, minibus hire, museum tickets and all meals, some of which are hosted, sumptuously by all accounts, by Turkish families - give Ali a call on 087-9466255.
Meanwhile, back at the music, Ahmet has put down the ney and is getting into a sinuous spot of hand-drumming. Gradually, feet begin to tap. He finishes with a flourish and a wink. Smiles spread along the rows of assembled pensioners, followed by cheering and applause. One small step for world peace, one giant leap for Rathmines. Or maybe it's the other way round.