China is a dangerous place. Now, before anyone goes off in a tizzy of worry, I don’t mean to imply that China is a physically dangerous place, nor do I mean that I’ve felt unsafe at any point (other than from the mopeds and scooters that careen precariously close to me on the street).
No, China is dangerous for your wallet and bank account, as there are so many things. There are so many pretty, lovely, stunning, beautiful, charming, intricate, delicate, rustic, artisan, whimsical, clever, unique, colorful, shiny, soft, sleek, silky, heavenly, gorgeous, ethereal, exquisite things. How about those adjectives?
Honestly, it’s a shopper’s paradise here, and the situation is exacerbated by the fact that once you do the conversion math from yuan to dollars, it’s shocking how affordable or cheap things are. Something that would cost thirty or forty dollars at home can often be found here for half the price, or less. My mental math skills are getting a healthy workout—somewhere, Ms. Nailos is proud. (For reference, Ms. Nailos was my pre-calc and calculus teacher in high school, who I’m reasonably certain despaired over my inability to correctly find integrals or solve parts problems.) We still have several weeks to go, and I’ve already acquired so much more than I arrived with—curse all those attractive merchants with their compelling wares and goods!
What all of this is really leading up to, of course, is that Helen took Caitlin and me shopping on silk street Wednesday. (The boys were being, well, boys, and decided they didn’t want to go). Helen is a truly lovely person, and visited DS many years ago with one of the first few exchange groups. Ever since, she’s been gracious enough to take ragtag groups of Americans shopping for luxury items, always ensuring we’re treated fairly in terms of both product quality and price. She led Caitlin and me into selected stores, each time making a beeline for the best scarves, ties, or dresses in the shop. Quite honestly, watching Helen test the silk was almost more enjoyable than actually purchasing gifts and souvenirs. She’d pick up a scarf and gently rub it between her thumb and first two fingers, simultaneously pursing her lips and narrowing her face into an expression of great focus and precision. Then, satisfied that it was a scarf of good quality, I could see her face shift—the shift indicated she’d mentally decided on a fair price range for the item(s) at hand.
Helen’s bargaining skills are also a force to be reckoned with, and, in sum, she saved Caitlin and me hundreds of yuan through her skillful negotiating. You haven’t lived until you’ve watched two Chinese ladies argue over prices—I’m serious. The cadence of their voices—the rising and falling and dipping tones, interspersed with sharp, accented words and wailing phrases—well, you could set an opera or a dramatic production to the soundtrack. I walked away from the excursion with some truly beautiful items, as did Caitlin. The problem is, I feel like I’m bringing home an entire shipment of Chinese scarves.
Hey, could I take a ship or boat home? Is that an option? Because, let me tell you, my suitcase is now laughably small in relation to my belongings…
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