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By Francisco Little
Anyone who lives in China will have learned something about the finer aspects of bargaining. We all learn the hard way - there is no “finer aspect,” it’s all about who has the greatest patience and after 5,000 years of practice the Chinese have more patience than you ever thought imaginable.
Let’s face it: a foreigner will always be at a disadvantage buying anything in a foreign country. You probably don’t speak the language, you don’t have a clear idea of what the item you fancy is really worth and you get put under more pressure than facing a subway crowd at rush hour.
It’s loud, busy and hot. Welcome to the Silk Street Market, downtown Beijing. The haggling mecca of a city where no price is set in stone. Tourists flock here in their droves to lighten bulging wallets, heads swiveling on necks like human windmills. Five floors of anything you can legally put onto your body, in any color, shape or size, and of course designer labels, although now controlled, are just a nod, nudge and a wink away. Take a Chinese friend with you for back up and enter the fray.
Overzealous shoppers bob, weave and dash their way through narrow aisles. Beaming ladies drag scowling husbands and lovers around like dogs on a leash. You will at some stage feel someone pulling your arm. “Looky looky, nice shirt for you friend.” Before you know what has happened you will find yourself being dragged into a stall filled with colorful shirts and jeans. This is when you need to breathe and remain calm. “What country you from friend?” This is a standard line to get the ball rolling. Round about now another vendor will materialize from nowhere with a pair of jeans in hand. “Try this one friend, Levi very gooda,” the vendor will screech, holding your arm in a vice-like grip and pushing you toward a corner of the stall where her partner has drawn a sort of curtain to form a triangular private zone.
There you are standing in a pair of Levis for all to see before you could say, “zip me up.” It happens so fast. “You look very handsome friend”– it’s another stock line, so don’t let your ego get carried away. Begrudgingly you’ll admit they are a good fit, how did she know?
“How much are they?”You ask, jeans in hand and the haggle game goes to the next level. Out comes a calculator and vendor one punches in an outlandish figure.
As per instructions from Chinese friend you offer 10 percent of the price. Vendor two laughs hysterically and starts going on about kids to feed, not selling below cost and how could Levis ever cost so little. Chinese friend now comes to your aid grabbing the jeans and eyeing them with a practiced eye. She shows me the label and winks.“Look, this is fake, the label says Lives,” you say with wide grin and puff of your chest.
Vendor one is silenced for a moment. “Label means nothing friend, just spelling mistake.
What’s your best price?” she continues asking the question known to all bargain hunters. While the banter goes back and forth you need to stick to your original offer. Vendor two is now trying to your arms into a shirt. Like an irritating mosquito, she stands on a stool and forces your arms into a bright yellow shirt with Garfield on the back. You try to brush her off but she is tenacious and has moves a bullterrier would applaud.
About now you want to head for the exit, and the stall has filled up with other victims. Vendor one is bantering on and lowering her price by 20 yuan ($3) a time and vendor two is trying to button up this Garfield poster on your back. You are on the verge of screaming. Almost 40 minutes have passed.
Chinese friend senses the moment was right for the last phase of the process and gives you a small nod. “I’m going,” you announce. Having stuck to your original 10 percent of the required price offer you remove yourself from Garfield, put down the Lives and leave. Vendor two grabs your arm and screams that you must buy something. You keep walking dragging the screeching vendor along like an unwanted accessory. Other shoppers smile at your distress. “You’ll get yours,” you think smugly.
“OK OK you can have your price,” wails a weakening vendor two.
Chinese friend signals victory and motions to return to the stall. Vendor one is sulking and vendor two takes your money, mumbling something that sounds like “hate you.” You start feeling bad but Chinese friend reminds you that all the emotions are for show. Walking off with your life intact, your Lives in your bag and feeling more worldly is quite an experience. What a bargain.
Anyone who lives in China will have learned something about the finer aspects of bargaining. We all learn the hard way - there is no “finer aspect,” it’s all about who has the greatest patience and after 5,000 years of practice the Chinese have more patience than you ever thought imaginable.
Let’s face it: a foreigner will always be at a disadvantage buying anything in a foreign country. You probably don’t speak the language, you don’t have a clear idea of what the item you fancy is really worth and you get put under more pressure than facing a subway crowd at rush hour.
It’s loud, busy and hot. Welcome to the Silk Street Market, downtown Beijing. The haggling mecca of a city where no price is set in stone. Tourists flock here in their droves to lighten bulging wallets, heads swiveling on necks like human windmills. Five floors of anything you can legally put onto your body, in any color, shape or size, and of course designer labels, although now controlled, are just a nod, nudge and a wink away. Take a Chinese friend with you for back up and enter the fray.
Overzealous shoppers bob, weave and dash their way through narrow aisles. Beaming ladies drag scowling husbands and lovers around like dogs on a leash. You will at some stage feel someone pulling your arm. “Looky looky, nice shirt for you friend.” Before you know what has happened you will find yourself being dragged into a stall filled with colorful shirts and jeans. This is when you need to breathe and remain calm. “What country you from friend?” This is a standard line to get the ball rolling. Round about now another vendor will materialize from nowhere with a pair of jeans in hand. “Try this one friend, Levi very gooda,” the vendor will screech, holding your arm in a vice-like grip and pushing you toward a corner of the stall where her partner has drawn a sort of curtain to form a triangular private zone.
There you are standing in a pair of Levis for all to see before you could say, “zip me up.” It happens so fast. “You look very handsome friend”– it’s another stock line, so don’t let your ego get carried away. Begrudgingly you’ll admit they are a good fit, how did she know?
“How much are they?”You ask, jeans in hand and the haggle game goes to the next level. Out comes a calculator and vendor one punches in an outlandish figure.
As per instructions from Chinese friend you offer 10 percent of the price. Vendor two laughs hysterically and starts going on about kids to feed, not selling below cost and how could Levis ever cost so little. Chinese friend now comes to your aid grabbing the jeans and eyeing them with a practiced eye. She shows me the label and winks.“Look, this is fake, the label says Lives,” you say with wide grin and puff of your chest.
Vendor one is silenced for a moment. “Label means nothing friend, just spelling mistake.
What’s your best price?” she continues asking the question known to all bargain hunters. While the banter goes back and forth you need to stick to your original offer. Vendor two is now trying to your arms into a shirt. Like an irritating mosquito, she stands on a stool and forces your arms into a bright yellow shirt with Garfield on the back. You try to brush her off but she is tenacious and has moves a bullterrier would applaud.
About now you want to head for the exit, and the stall has filled up with other victims. Vendor one is bantering on and lowering her price by 20 yuan ($3) a time and vendor two is trying to button up this Garfield poster on your back. You are on the verge of screaming. Almost 40 minutes have passed.
Chinese friend senses the moment was right for the last phase of the process and gives you a small nod. “I’m going,” you announce. Having stuck to your original 10 percent of the required price offer you remove yourself from Garfield, put down the Lives and leave. Vendor two grabs your arm and screams that you must buy something. You keep walking dragging the screeching vendor along like an unwanted accessory. Other shoppers smile at your distress. “You’ll get yours,” you think smugly.
“OK OK you can have your price,” wails a weakening vendor two.
Chinese friend signals victory and motions to return to the stall. Vendor one is sulking and vendor two takes your money, mumbling something that sounds like “hate you.” You start feeling bad but Chinese friend reminds you that all the emotions are for show. Walking off with your life intact, your Lives in your bag and feeling more worldly is quite an experience. What a bargain.