I was walking along the street today--past those guys who sell random stuff on the street (mobile face plates, cheap key rings, horrible imported toys sold for dirt cheap)--when I saw the most boring book title staring up at me. It was some kind of "brief overview" of "plastics." You know. For specialists. From the 1960s. Amused, I stopped and picked it up, thumbing through the glossy but water-damaged pages. Amidst the extensive two-columned text discussing god knows what about the history and use of plastics in the booming global industry were scattered black and white photos of quaint items. Here was a die-cast, two-tone ink well. Over here, a bizarre molded part for an air-conditioner that looked unlike any air-conditioner I'd ever seen. Thank god there were captions or I wouldn't have known what the hell I was looking at.
Certainly not going to be required reading for a class anywhere in Izmir. It was the kind of thing that would be perfect as a gag gift for my boss's birthday. Thinking it might be cheap enough to consider, I asked the seller how much it was.
Response: "I don't know blah blah blah blah foreign book blah blah blah antique blah blah very old blah di blah blah blah I don't know but very expensive blah blah blah blah 80 blah blah blah."
Me: "So--how much is it?"
Response: "blah blah blah very expensive blah blah blah blah foreign book blah I don't know blah."
Me: *getting bored* "How much?"
Response: "blah blah blah expensive"
Me: *smiling sweetly at him and setting the book back down on the sidewalk* "Ok, it's very expensive. Thank you."
Response: *him calling desperately after me as I walked away* "Fifty is ok!"
Fifty?! FIFTY?!?!! After I almost died laughing, I felt legitimately bad for the guy. Here he is, in Turkey, obviously speaking ZERO English, thinking that he's hit on some gold mine of an antique book that must be worth a small fortune. I mean, with such a long, pretentious-looking title embossed in gold of all materials, and such wide glossy pages, who could blame him?! I mean, he must have seen the die-cast two-tone inkwell, or the molded part for the air-conditioner, but without understanding the English captions, mistaken the thing as a plan to save the universe. Hell, I'd want 50 lira for that, too.
But WHAT is he going to do with this book? I fear he may try to hang onto it forever. He'll wait for the perfect price, when really, any church in America would pay someone fifty cents just to take the damn thing off the table at their rummage sale.
No, no, no. It's up to me to rescue the man from such a horrible fate. I think I'll go back tomorrow and see if he's still there. I'd give him five lira for it, just to be able to tell the story.
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