Shopping...

I am not a big fan of shopping. But, this being China, with souvenirs and Christmas gifts beckoning, and the end of my trip looming, it was time to go out and get the job done. Psyched up, list and money in hand, and repeating a mantra to resolve to bargain, I entered the world of Beijing shopping.

My first stop, and I wish I'd taken photos but it was all I could handle focusing on my mission, was the Silk Market. Don't be misinformed by the name. It is a five story enclosed building crowded with stalls of shops on each floor and a fifth floor food court. In the basement are shoes, hand bags and luggage. Clothes are on the other floors and the silk fabric store is located on the fourth floor. It is like something out of a movie - if that movie took place in seedy alleys in Thailand. I felt propositioned. The phrases "Lady, lady, you want nice hand bag? Lookie, lookie. Come here, you want Gucci?" followed me as, head down, not making eye-contact, I quickly maneuvered my way through the stalls. "Lady, lady, lookie, lookie." Thing is, despite their lack of English, the young women are well schooled in how to NOT strike a bargain. I bought a pair of throw pillow cases - they sell the same few patterns everywhere making me cringe to think there is a sweat-shop somewhere mass producing them. The girl who sold them to me was smooth. When I offered a counter price she scoffed and said "What! You must be joking me. I give you good price." The game was up before it started.

Saturday morning, having survived unscathed from my evening at the Silk Market, I rose early and headed back to the Dirt Market. It didn't get above freezing that day. I cruised through the stalls hunting for my gifts. Here there is no "lookie, lookie" but there seems to be a secret to eyeing things without really eyeing them. Because once they've caught you seriously looking at something the aggressive calculator game starts. One of you punches in a number and the other counter punches. If you walk away, they grab you "what price? what price?" Practicing western guilt, I feel like I got their hopes up for something I have no intention to buy. Such was the case when I stopped to look at old man's collection of odds and ends. In a friendly way, I gave the "It's cold, isn't it?" pantomime (he spoke no English) and next thing I knew he took me into his dusty little shop, took off my gloves, put my hands on the radiator which was great for my numbed fingers, and invited me to sit down. I felt obligated to look around for something to buy. I spotted one of those bowls that you hit to make a lovely gong sound and out came the calculator. Guilt ensued, after all he was so sweet, so we bargained and I bought it. He even offered to let me stow my purchases while I shopped. Did I need this bowl? No. But the memory of that friendly little old guy, makes the purchase more worth it.