Shopping for the right book can be: A) stressful; B) never-ending; C) too stressful?

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BOOKS UP! SERIES - 3rd EDITION

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Confessions of a... 

-..Bookaholic..-

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by D. Morgan.- 

iN THE SUMMER of 2012, when I happened to be spending my holidays at Argentina's Atlantic Coast, I set my heart on doing some random research through a wiiiide variety of bookstores. I didn't wish to buy just any book, rather, I was in the hope of finding an English classic. 

Not that I didn't have a great too many at home already— most of them are still held in waiting in my mental list—but still, the idea of purchasing one from a shop I'd hardly visit again  before some time was as catchy as that of bringing a souvenir on my way back.

Since in Argentina the sea coast gets flooded with tourists from different parts of the world, most bookshops do keep some little corner where they store well-known English titles. So while my trip-partners hovered around malls and gawped at their next casual outfit in a shop window, I decided I'd go for the quest of my own treasure.

Scavenger Hunt?

Most of the times I entered bookstores in Villa Gesell, Mar Azul, Mar del Plata, Miramar, I was presented with the very picture of idleness: arms-crossed, chit-chatting shop-assistants would reluctantly turn back and shoot me a menacing look as if to say, "How dare you butt in the most important event of my life?"

This was the usual thing, so it wasn't as if I'd really care enough to leave the battlefield that soon. However, during my trial & error expermient I did come across an infuriating response  from the staff. To begin with, the first point at which I'd feel rather uneasy was whenever I posed what seemed to sound as the most challenging question they'd ever heard: "Do you happen to sell any books in English?" 

By the time I finished uttering it, I'd feel all eyes were on me, scrutinising my facial features in search of some foreigner's look sign. Ha! As if from merely staring they could tell whether I was an actual tourist or an addict. If I stared back at them as though meaning, "Do you really need me to rephrase that?", the assistant would give me this appallingly blank look like I was asking if they still sold any peanut butter in that bookshop. All right, the staring was pretty much off-putting, but then, there were times when it would get worse. 

Envisioning a pot of gold...

But let's not underestimate everyone. Shop-assistants can sometimes be good and kind and even recommend our next favourite book. 

On certain occasions, their response would come quick, simple and straight-forward. A staff member would eye me knowingly, like I wasn't the only potential customer asking for that sort of thing, and almost as if they actually had heard of books in other languages before! This I would easily take for a good sign, and as I was made to follow them, I'd begin wondering if I had enough in my pockets to buy not only one books but two or three. 

But hang on! "Why are you giving me that look again?" I'd wonder. "False alarm, dear, hard luck," my mind's voice would hurl at me. 

Within seconds, that prior sense of confidence and relief would be torn to pieces. After they'd say, "Yes, follow me, please,"—and I'd foolishly follow with the optimistic searcher's hunch—, it was the same story all over again. All I'd bump into was another assistant, and the conversation between them, which I'd not be asked to join, would casually run as follows,

"This girl here's looking for books in English." 

"In English, right!" would come the hope-arousing echo, and then again, 

"Oh, but I think we don't have any of those."

[Turning to face me as though I were both, deaf  and stupid]

"Nope, seems like we don't have any of those."

"I see..."

"But, we do have the latest..." 

"That's all right, thank you, anyway."

-.CURTAIN FALLS.-

EPILOGUE: As daunting as that, while a much braver and much simpler "No" would have saved my precious time and yours, JERKS!!

Forgive me, I cannot help it. My Vanity tells me—and my Ego bets She's right— that I'm a very well-trained reader. I mean, it's not as if I'd get easily tempted to buy whatever comes in my way after having a pointless peek at your other stuff. Grrr, I know what I'm looking for! [Gritted teeth.]

Packing ur book = Being ready 4 a rainy day

Every once in a while, there would come a time when I got a real "Yes" for an answer, and the "Books in English" corner would actually prove to exist other than in my own imagination. 

Now, as for what I'd come to find there, that's a whole different issue. First, classics weren't usually on view, which I think a most dreadful mistake, since classics are the safest choice for tourists and, why not, for the so-called 'bilingual' locals. What will you do when you're out of your homeplace, looking for a good read? If you don't know the best-selling names, you're likely to cling to a classic—but no, at the sea spots there would be no Penguin logo to be seen, no Wordsworth rugged face or anything quite like it. 

Then, there was the point of the meagre range of volumes to consider. Although, to be honest, the small number of titles would not be as disturbing to the eye as their old-man looks. The poor things looked as if no one had come and checked on them for ages! It goes without saying, the dust hadn't been wiped off from their faintly-coloured covers. 

More often than not, I had no choice but turn around and leave, feeling sorry both for the books and the owner of the shop. I mean, books are an overrated part of my essentials, the one sort of thing I'd never dare travel without. Of course, sometimes I'd only have read three pages on my return. But then, isn't that the whole point about reading for pleasure on a holiday? No matter how much you get to read, as long as your book's there for you in case you need it.


After all, what can I say? My treasure hunt before last didn't come out as I'd expected—that is, with my hands clutching their latest classic acquisition to my chest—but I did get myself a little something. I ended buying Sophie Kinsella's Mini Shopaholic, the last volume from The Secret Dreamworld of a Shopaholic series, of which I've been a great, great fan even before that hideous movie starring Isla Fisher came out—by the way, the film doesn't even get close to Kinsella's humourous yet wittily-constructed plot. 

So, hope you got my warning. "Travel safe" equals "Never travel without at least one book at hand." I don't know, what if you find no better thing to do at night? What if rains and you can't make it to the beach? What if you get ill and need to stay in bed while the others have fun? 

For that sort of situation and others much worse, my one and only sense of relief has always laid in the fact that a rainy day never catches me unawares. Whenever I pack, I'm sure a book will come with me, just in case I might not be able to buy what I want. So if no better volume pops up to dismantle my high esteem for the one I've taken from my own home library, I know I can still turn to an old book, my best and most loyal trip mate. ◘ ◘ ◘

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