Sunday, June 20, 2004
Let’s Make A Deal - The Art Of Bargaining in China
See photos about this week's posting in the Yahoo photo album. (Will open in a new browser window.)
By now, frequent readers of our site will be well aware that we like shopping and that we particularly like to find new and different markets. When we lived in downtown Owen Sound, we went to the Farmers’ Market every Saturday morning before we had breakfast. It was right around the corner from our house on Second Avenue West, so we didn’t have far to go. We always returned laden with purchases and invigorated by the conversations with the vendors and the chats with friends we met there. When we moved to Leith, we continued going to the market on Saturday mornings, although because of the distance, we had breakfast first! We took this love of markets with us to France, where we sought out the weekly market in the various small towns we visited. There was always something unusual to explore and probably to buy there. This is where people congregate. This is where culture and trade meet. And so it isn’t unusual that we should explore markets during our time in China.
What has been new for us is the custom of bargaining. Here, nothing has a fixed price. Instead of knowing what the price is at the beginning, we never know until we’ve bargained it. And the bargaining process is a very interesting one. We’ve finally overcome our reticence, and now have no qualms in starting to bargain at half the price quoted by the seller. At first, we thought this was insulting, but now we don’t care. We know that sellers always raise the price when they see a Westerner is interested in an article. We’ve often asked our Chinese friends to bargain for us, and they get a much better price than we ever do. So, now we start at half the given price, which always evokes cries of alarm from the seller and statements like How can I made a profit? This item is excellent quality. You must give me a higher price. And so we go back and forth. Often we set a top price, and stick with it while the seller tries to get us to raise it. He says 360. We say 200. He says 300. We say 200. He says 260. We say 200. He says, OK, but I make no profit! We say 200, and the deal is done. No one ever says 250, er bai wu, because this is a favorite Chinese phrase meaning a stupid, crazy person -- similar to our saying of one brick short of a load.
In Huairou at the Qing Chun Lu Market, we’ve been noted by the vendors of old, even ancient, curios, coins, jades pottery and trinkets. When they see us they know we will buy. In the market there are usually four stalls of these kinds of wares. The moment anyone shows an interest in any object, a jade for instance, many more are trotted out from the vendor’s under the counter stock. Every vendor confirms that they are “tai lao yu”, very old jade. But don’t let the earth encrusted on some fool you, our Chinese friends warn, these may have been made just last month and buried. In such a situation your eye and instinct must be your guide. A little reading on the subject doesn’t hurt.
Once a piece has caught your eye there is a game to be played. Enthusiasm must be subdued. Look for chips or flaws and point them out to the vendor, who is by now calling you “friend”, “pengyou” . The price begins intolerably high. You say “tai guai le”, “too much”. Now you offer a rock bottom, even insulting amount and if he wants your business he’ll come back with a more reasonable, but still high amount. And so it goes, sometimes for a half hour or more. The object is picked up and examined, then put down, often to the side, while other items are reviewed. For some moments the original piece may have gone from notice. After some further skirmishing over price and authenticity, more figures are forthcoming from both sides. You may be close, but be prepared to walk away. In fact you will gradually move away from the object in mind, even turn your back as if to go. The vendor will do anything to get you to touch the contentious piece, but you refuse, moving further away, or to another table. The vendor comes after you. He agrees to sell at your price plus ten yuan. You hold firm. The object is yours…and would you now be interested in buying this…and this... and this, old friend?
All of the above Ken got from watching history teacher and antiquarian Mr. Li Junllin as he bargained with the stall holders at our market in Huairou. Each piece took time, some as long as a half an hour, and brought on an audience of onlookers who evaluated the objects under the hammer and each move on either side. From the rise and fall of the murmurs of the audience, it was great entertainment.
Once, when our transaction was finished and we had moved on to buy fruits and vegetables -- our market in Huairou is multipurpose -- we were approached by a vendor who wanted to know would we be interested in seeing more antiques at his home, just around the corner? This was a new experience, so we decided to accompany him. Keyan was with us, which made the conversation easier. Down a narrow lane to a small courtyard house, through a corridor festooned with drying clothes, to an interior room used by the family, but also used as storage for antique furniture and other treasures. Out came the boxes from which precious objects were carefully removed, unwrapped and offered for our inspection. For ones we were interested in, we began the bargaining game. Eventually we came away with a large blue and white porcelain vase and a smaller, exquisitely painted porcelain brush holder, both for very reasonable prices. Wrapped in many layers of winter clothing, these two pieces went home in a suitcase with Catherine and Andrew, when they visited us in May.
Recently, we’ve discovered yet another market, this one very famous and in Beijing. It’s official name in the Panjiayuar Shi Chang but many call it the Dirt Market, because vendors, especially on weekends, lay out their wares on cloths on the ground around the perimeter of the permanent market stalls which occupy a vast area in the center. The entire market is enclosed by a high wall with a formal gate at the entrance. Specialty shops - painting and calligraphy, pearls, amber and so on -stand around three sides of this huge area. It’s a very well organized market. There is no produce, just “antiques” and “wares”.
Friends had advised us to go early, before the tourists arrived, and so we set out from our hotel, the Holiday Inn Downtown, by taxi at 7:30 one Saturday morning. Taking various city expressways, heading east, we arrived in 20 minutes, a ride costing 35 yuan - a high end cost for a BJ taxi!
We spent most of our time looking down at the articles for sale, laid out carefully on pieces of cloth, a seemingly endless line up of wares, stretching along inside the walls of the market. What a variety of items - jades, porcelains, bronzes, pottery of all kinds, glass, various unidentified metals, fabrics, paper. Some sellers specialized in jade, or blue and white porcelain; others in snuff bottles; while some had a pleasing jumble of items, perhaps all of one colour. Chinese buyers hunkered down to have a look; we bent over from the waist, knowing that to hunker would mean we’d have great difficulty getting up again!
When we saw something we liked, we’d consult, and decide how much we wanted to pay. Then the bargaining game would begin. We found that using French kept our deliberations private -- most of the sellers have some English, especially English numbers! We had so much fun bargaining and buying that we eventually had to buy a bag to put our stuff in. We bought small things: snuff bottles; flat thin circles of jade with a hole in the middle, carved with raised knobs or cloud designs, called bis [bees]; a charming set of 6 musicians, each carrying a different instrument - a zither, a flute, a small drum; two pottery figures representing court attendants, one in the recognizable 3-colour glaze of Tang work, their long sleeves flowing at their sides.
Some sellers would begin with outrageously high prices, and we would decide to move on rather than to begin a bargain which could last a very long time. When we walked away from a sale, someone would follow us, and begin again. We gradually realized that some sellers had several locations, and one particular lady in a red shirt kept turning up as we moved along, eager to sell us a variety of items. It wasn’t difficult for her to keep us in sight since we were among few Westerners there at that time of day.
We watched a Western man go through a pile of paper folders, each more battered than the last. We stopped to watch, because we didn’t know what these folders could be. They were about the size of a normal piece of paper, and he had established a base price of 15 yuan per folder. Several other people were also curious, and thus he was attracting quite a crowd. This often happens when a Westerner bargains in a public place. When he stopped to open one, we realized that each folder contained a dozen or more sheets of paper, each with a sketch or design of some sort. He was buying the stock of some traveling salesman - these were his sample books. Perhaps the buyer would select the best from the lot, have them mounted and framed, and sell them to customers for vast sums; or perhaps he was an interior decorator with an eye for Chinoiserie for his clients.
When we came to the end of the sellers on the ground, we turned to the covered stalls in the centre. It was only then, almost two hours later that we realized the tourists had arrived. Flocks of them, led by guides with umbrellas or flags raised high for their charges to follow, or couples accompanied by a personal guide who quietly explained as they strolled.
The aisles in the permanent market were jammed with customers, with delivery men guiding their 3-wheeled bikes through the crowd, and by sellers, who had decided to sit in front of their wares on one of the ubiquitous tiny stools we see all over China. With the swelling crowds, navigating through the aisles was a difficult job. And what a tangle of treasures was before us. Mounds of small teapots of unglazed clay, carelessly piled a metre high; bronzed figures of Chairman Mao with his arm stretched out in greeting; colourful lacquered boxes and fabrics, bells and gongs from Tibet; row upon row of porcelain vases, plates and bowls in an exquisite array of colourful glazes and designs; 2 metre high gilded cranes, standing row on row watching the crowds; metal drawer pulls, hinges and lock plates with intricate,black lacquered designs; brush paintings and calligraphy; carved wooden panels and screens; suites of traditional Chinese furniture; Buddha in every conceivable pose and size. A dizzying variety of stuff for sale.
But the crowds were so large, and our bag was so heavy, and our wallets were so light…and so we made our way to the front gate and hailed one of the many taxis on the street. On the way back to the hotel, we agreed that every piece we had purchased was a treasure, of course! We as well noted to ourselves that we’d pretty much got the Chinese numbers down and understood. We also realized we’d spent the morning bargaining in Chinese, and that we had thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. As the Chinese say -- we are becoming “old hands”.
See photos about this week's posting in the Yahoo photo album. (Will open in a new browser window.)
By now, frequent readers of our site will be well aware that we like shopping and that we particularly like to find new and different markets. When we lived in downtown Owen Sound, we went to the Farmers’ Market every Saturday morning before we had breakfast. It was right around the corner from our house on Second Avenue West, so we didn’t have far to go. We always returned laden with purchases and invigorated by the conversations with the vendors and the chats with friends we met there. When we moved to Leith, we continued going to the market on Saturday mornings, although because of the distance, we had breakfast first! We took this love of markets with us to France, where we sought out the weekly market in the various small towns we visited. There was always something unusual to explore and probably to buy there. This is where people congregate. This is where culture and trade meet. And so it isn’t unusual that we should explore markets during our time in China.
What has been new for us is the custom of bargaining. Here, nothing has a fixed price. Instead of knowing what the price is at the beginning, we never know until we’ve bargained it. And the bargaining process is a very interesting one. We’ve finally overcome our reticence, and now have no qualms in starting to bargain at half the price quoted by the seller. At first, we thought this was insulting, but now we don’t care. We know that sellers always raise the price when they see a Westerner is interested in an article. We’ve often asked our Chinese friends to bargain for us, and they get a much better price than we ever do. So, now we start at half the given price, which always evokes cries of alarm from the seller and statements like How can I made a profit? This item is excellent quality. You must give me a higher price. And so we go back and forth. Often we set a top price, and stick with it while the seller tries to get us to raise it. He says 360. We say 200. He says 300. We say 200. He says 260. We say 200. He says, OK, but I make no profit! We say 200, and the deal is done. No one ever says 250, er bai wu, because this is a favorite Chinese phrase meaning a stupid, crazy person -- similar to our saying of one brick short of a load.
In Huairou at the Qing Chun Lu Market, we’ve been noted by the vendors of old, even ancient, curios, coins, jades pottery and trinkets. When they see us they know we will buy. In the market there are usually four stalls of these kinds of wares. The moment anyone shows an interest in any object, a jade for instance, many more are trotted out from the vendor’s under the counter stock. Every vendor confirms that they are “tai lao yu”, very old jade. But don’t let the earth encrusted on some fool you, our Chinese friends warn, these may have been made just last month and buried. In such a situation your eye and instinct must be your guide. A little reading on the subject doesn’t hurt.
Once a piece has caught your eye there is a game to be played. Enthusiasm must be subdued. Look for chips or flaws and point them out to the vendor, who is by now calling you “friend”, “pengyou” . The price begins intolerably high. You say “tai guai le”, “too much”. Now you offer a rock bottom, even insulting amount and if he wants your business he’ll come back with a more reasonable, but still high amount. And so it goes, sometimes for a half hour or more. The object is picked up and examined, then put down, often to the side, while other items are reviewed. For some moments the original piece may have gone from notice. After some further skirmishing over price and authenticity, more figures are forthcoming from both sides. You may be close, but be prepared to walk away. In fact you will gradually move away from the object in mind, even turn your back as if to go. The vendor will do anything to get you to touch the contentious piece, but you refuse, moving further away, or to another table. The vendor comes after you. He agrees to sell at your price plus ten yuan. You hold firm. The object is yours…and would you now be interested in buying this…and this... and this, old friend?
All of the above Ken got from watching history teacher and antiquarian Mr. Li Junllin as he bargained with the stall holders at our market in Huairou. Each piece took time, some as long as a half an hour, and brought on an audience of onlookers who evaluated the objects under the hammer and each move on either side. From the rise and fall of the murmurs of the audience, it was great entertainment.
Once, when our transaction was finished and we had moved on to buy fruits and vegetables -- our market in Huairou is multipurpose -- we were approached by a vendor who wanted to know would we be interested in seeing more antiques at his home, just around the corner? This was a new experience, so we decided to accompany him. Keyan was with us, which made the conversation easier. Down a narrow lane to a small courtyard house, through a corridor festooned with drying clothes, to an interior room used by the family, but also used as storage for antique furniture and other treasures. Out came the boxes from which precious objects were carefully removed, unwrapped and offered for our inspection. For ones we were interested in, we began the bargaining game. Eventually we came away with a large blue and white porcelain vase and a smaller, exquisitely painted porcelain brush holder, both for very reasonable prices. Wrapped in many layers of winter clothing, these two pieces went home in a suitcase with Catherine and Andrew, when they visited us in May.
Recently, we’ve discovered yet another market, this one very famous and in Beijing. It’s official name in the Panjiayuar Shi Chang but many call it the Dirt Market, because vendors, especially on weekends, lay out their wares on cloths on the ground around the perimeter of the permanent market stalls which occupy a vast area in the center. The entire market is enclosed by a high wall with a formal gate at the entrance. Specialty shops - painting and calligraphy, pearls, amber and so on -stand around three sides of this huge area. It’s a very well organized market. There is no produce, just “antiques” and “wares”.
Friends had advised us to go early, before the tourists arrived, and so we set out from our hotel, the Holiday Inn Downtown, by taxi at 7:30 one Saturday morning. Taking various city expressways, heading east, we arrived in 20 minutes, a ride costing 35 yuan - a high end cost for a BJ taxi!
We spent most of our time looking down at the articles for sale, laid out carefully on pieces of cloth, a seemingly endless line up of wares, stretching along inside the walls of the market. What a variety of items - jades, porcelains, bronzes, pottery of all kinds, glass, various unidentified metals, fabrics, paper. Some sellers specialized in jade, or blue and white porcelain; others in snuff bottles; while some had a pleasing jumble of items, perhaps all of one colour. Chinese buyers hunkered down to have a look; we bent over from the waist, knowing that to hunker would mean we’d have great difficulty getting up again!
When we saw something we liked, we’d consult, and decide how much we wanted to pay. Then the bargaining game would begin. We found that using French kept our deliberations private -- most of the sellers have some English, especially English numbers! We had so much fun bargaining and buying that we eventually had to buy a bag to put our stuff in. We bought small things: snuff bottles; flat thin circles of jade with a hole in the middle, carved with raised knobs or cloud designs, called bis [bees]; a charming set of 6 musicians, each carrying a different instrument - a zither, a flute, a small drum; two pottery figures representing court attendants, one in the recognizable 3-colour glaze of Tang work, their long sleeves flowing at their sides.
Some sellers would begin with outrageously high prices, and we would decide to move on rather than to begin a bargain which could last a very long time. When we walked away from a sale, someone would follow us, and begin again. We gradually realized that some sellers had several locations, and one particular lady in a red shirt kept turning up as we moved along, eager to sell us a variety of items. It wasn’t difficult for her to keep us in sight since we were among few Westerners there at that time of day.
We watched a Western man go through a pile of paper folders, each more battered than the last. We stopped to watch, because we didn’t know what these folders could be. They were about the size of a normal piece of paper, and he had established a base price of 15 yuan per folder. Several other people were also curious, and thus he was attracting quite a crowd. This often happens when a Westerner bargains in a public place. When he stopped to open one, we realized that each folder contained a dozen or more sheets of paper, each with a sketch or design of some sort. He was buying the stock of some traveling salesman - these were his sample books. Perhaps the buyer would select the best from the lot, have them mounted and framed, and sell them to customers for vast sums; or perhaps he was an interior decorator with an eye for Chinoiserie for his clients.
When we came to the end of the sellers on the ground, we turned to the covered stalls in the centre. It was only then, almost two hours later that we realized the tourists had arrived. Flocks of them, led by guides with umbrellas or flags raised high for their charges to follow, or couples accompanied by a personal guide who quietly explained as they strolled.
The aisles in the permanent market were jammed with customers, with delivery men guiding their 3-wheeled bikes through the crowd, and by sellers, who had decided to sit in front of their wares on one of the ubiquitous tiny stools we see all over China. With the swelling crowds, navigating through the aisles was a difficult job. And what a tangle of treasures was before us. Mounds of small teapots of unglazed clay, carelessly piled a metre high; bronzed figures of Chairman Mao with his arm stretched out in greeting; colourful lacquered boxes and fabrics, bells and gongs from Tibet; row upon row of porcelain vases, plates and bowls in an exquisite array of colourful glazes and designs; 2 metre high gilded cranes, standing row on row watching the crowds; metal drawer pulls, hinges and lock plates with intricate,black lacquered designs; brush paintings and calligraphy; carved wooden panels and screens; suites of traditional Chinese furniture; Buddha in every conceivable pose and size. A dizzying variety of stuff for sale.
But the crowds were so large, and our bag was so heavy, and our wallets were so light…and so we made our way to the front gate and hailed one of the many taxis on the street. On the way back to the hotel, we agreed that every piece we had purchased was a treasure, of course! We as well noted to ourselves that we’d pretty much got the Chinese numbers down and understood. We also realized we’d spent the morning bargaining in Chinese, and that we had thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. As the Chinese say -- we are becoming “old hands”.
All text and photography © copyright Harkaway, 2003 - 2004
