Percussion- and Flintlockrifles and pistols. The rest of the shop was completely stuffed with old pictures and photographs.Because it was the end of my holiday I was low on funding and had to browse through the cheap
batch of old carte-de-visite. They where about 3 - 5 euros a piece and when I wanted to pay the told me I picked out the nicer ones. Like me, this man also liked the photographs that where faded out or at least had character (due to damage, writing on it, holes for passports punched in it).
We got to talking and my friends (who are not the least bit interested in photographs) got restless and they still wanted to spill their leftover money elswhere, thus creating a certain tension that you have to leave which makes an interesting conversation really hasty. Luckily we could say the things needed, thanks to the fact that the shopkeeper was one of the few people that spoke decent English in Hungary.
Before we could bid our goodbyes as if hunted and as I walked out of door, the only bad piece of English that he spoke was: "You look to see Russian photographer, he made in colors". I could see that he smacked himself on the forehead. And that was the only thing I could think of during our really boring remaining afternoon in Budapest.
