I shopped today, which I do not like to do in the very best of circumstances. Still less when I have to observe subtly practiced rules of commerce in a foreign country. One of the most famous trade laws adhered to by rest of the world is that prices aren't fixed and it's almost rude not to bargain.
Did I mention that I hate to bargain? In another language? No?
But today it was ok because D and her sister went with me to the Tibetan market to help. The three of us poured over kurtas and earrings. Some real bargains and an abundance of absolute traef. D kept picking at the stitching of brightly-colored kurtas, imagining loose threads, stains, beads about to fall off. She frowned over non-existent holes in the armpits. I tried to look skeptical with her, knitted my brows together, and shammed in Hindi about the poor quality of the merchandise. But it was very hard and I felt like a jerk.
When one shop lady asked me where I was from and I answered that I'm from America, D looked at me disapprovingly. "Don't say that!" she hissed. "I already told her Australia. Always say Australia." But see, I was already on sensory overload in the narrow, jam-packed streets of the outdoor market, so I wasn't as...smooth...as I normally am. Which means I laughed in front of the lady and then had the misfortune of being blocked-in by Indians so as to be unable to do anything but marinate in the awkward stew I had created.
Um, but we got some good deals. And by the end of our trip I had gotten much better at the would-you-look-at-what-they're-trying-to-charge-me-for-this-nonsense look. Even though they were only trying to charge me 75 cents...
I hate shopping too...however, I on the other hand am at ease telling people that they are overcharging. Possibly from living in NYC where there are street vendors trying to sell you everything under the sun.
ReplyDeleteOnce Sandra took me to the weekly market in Paris. She walked this market every week and was the queen of bargaining.
I found THE PAINTING that was perfect for our den. Unfortunately, they wanted $400 for it and there was no way I was paying that much. I gave him my price to which he threw up his arms exclaiming there was "NO WAY!" so I walked (the first thing I learned in NYC). At that point I had the upper hand. He came down but not enough so I walked again. (by the way, Sandra was incredulous at the exchange because she thought I was really too low) This went on several times until he finally relented and came down to my price. This time I walked away with my painting...for $80.
Did I mention that this was all in French? :) And it was all so much fun.
hahahahahaha! "traef." It's been a long time since I said that word. It sounds like D fills the place in your life that I did, in a sense. I did my fair share of hissing into your ear and steering you away from peddlers/Israeli lotion sellers at Greenwood mall/etc. I love you and can't wait for you to GET HERE.
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