Oh, why had I never learned Turkish? Then I would have understood exactly what those people were saying

EAn unnamed family member (Hi Lise!) had lost her keys to my house for the umpteenth time, so I went to a key dealer to have copies made. The key holder also engraved nameplates and the like, I saw. There was an impressive collection of signs at the door, from ‘Swimming at your own risk’ via ‘Bas and Hennie Donkersloot’ to ‘Made with love, for Bipsy’.

Those signs were apparently ordered, but never picked up. I tried in vain to imagine why. Had the swimming pool board decided overnight to appoint a lifeguard? Had the Donkerslootjes fled the country in haste? Did the love for Bipsy cool off during the engraving?

The key holder, meanwhile, was telephoning in Turkish. I recognize Turkish, but I don’t understand it. The man, a heavy-set Byzantine of about 50, with wild eyebrows, just uttered a sentence that sounded something like ‘Evet. Biz allegorüzlü yok kardeçim bolüyarlorum börek tiklayardürriyet, tavuk ekmek peynirli! Tasvurülliyar yonzüyorlardilem cumhuriyet. Ayran bataklik biberorum.’ And to me: ‘One moment, ma’am.’

His phone was on speaker mode, so I could also hear his conversation partner. She had a cheerful feminine voice and also spoke Turkish. “Yürüslilar baharatlir pamukkale balikli üst benimsemek patlican dolmasi,” she said. And then, in flawless Dutch: ‘Oh, and if you’re in the area, get me some nasal spray at the Etos, darling. And a roll of Stop cough.’

The Turk looked doubtful. ‘Stop cough! Does the Etos have that?’, he asked. ‘Well, I’ll take a look. And should we have anything else? Paracetamol?’ “No, it’s still there,” the woman replied. ‘But Stop Cough izmirli sevyorum! Anlaima gelior seyrüskamlar Stop cough! Bunun disinda, Etos yönlendirmismasin bagmisizlik Kruidvat uluyorisim Stop cough. Cöktu yüzlürce. Stop cough severim! Otherwise, if necessary, take Strepsils, the yellow one with honey.’

“That’s what we’re going to do, champ,” the man replied. ‘Remember that Picnic will soon be on your doorstep, so stay at home for a while, otherwise it will be delivered to the neighbors downstairs again, and those whiners have been busy for weeks now. Remember those cat litter pellets? Bunch of bastards.’ And to me: ‘What can I do for you?’

“I would like a copy of these keys,” I said breathlessly. What a wonderful thing bilingualism is! The man copied my keys onto some infernal machine that made a horrible, whining grinding sound, but I barely heard it. Oh, why had I never learned Turkish? Then I would have understood exactly what those people were saying about those scoundrels from downstairs.

And about Stop Cough.