Fall 2001
I just wanted to buy a simple sewing machine. All I needed was straight stitch, zigzag and buttonhole. Tim and I figured I could pick one up anywhere. As it turned out, it was a major excursion to Guangzhou, a large city about an hour away. Cindy, our oven bartering buddy, excitedly offered to go with us which was a blessing. As it turned out no one we interacted with that day spoke English. As we approached the city we began to see hundreds and hundreds of tall of apartment buildings. They were mostly nice looking, in pastel colors, and all had the ever present balconies. I had never seen so many apartment buildings in one area. I was in awe, but that awe did not prepare me for the crowds in the city. I started to get a sense of what China's population of 5 times that of the US actually means. Not only that, but China's landmass isn't very much bigger than the US. Until coming here to China, my Asian geography was fairly nonexistent. Somehow I thought China was maybe twice the size of the US. I have also found several other areas of knowledge that are fairly nonexistent for me, and although I was out to find a sewing machine, China was out to educate me in her ways.
When we got in the city we drove around for quite a while looking for a parking place. It was strange, I didn’t see any parking garages or curb side parking. I kept getting this sense that everyone either rode the bus or walked into the city or else just drove through the city. Cindy was sitting in front ordering the driver go here, go there. We just sat in the back and looked out the windows. I could tell she felt inspired when she started excitedly talking to the driver and pointing in back of us. Within seconds the driver did a dramatic ‘U’ turn in front of four lanes on coming vehicles who all laid on their horns. I thought that was going to be it for me. Debbie Freeberg-Renwick - born in Roswell, New Mexico - died in Guangzhou, China. But then everyone just mooshed around us and everything went back to normal chaos. Sometimes when I am in Chinese traffic I get this image of an army of ants. Hundreds of them can all be running along in a stream and if you put a little stone in their way they all immediately readjust to the obstacle and continue their journeys.
While I was still catching my breath, the driver turned into a wide gated area with guards that motioned us on. We drove down a narrow pretty lane that had lots of trees and flowers and then turned off and parked. We were on the University grounds. Since Cindy had attended this school, I thought maybe she had decided to give us a tour. As we started walking towards the gate and she calmly told us that if anyone asked, we were students. Only people with the university were suppose to park there. My blood ran cold as I really didn't think crossing any Chinese authority figures was such a good idea. I suggested they could ask for our student identification cards. She said she was sure no one would ask any questions since we were foreigners and if they did they would ask in Chinese since they probably couldn't speak English anyway. She added that we should just keep walking. We walked in silence the rest of the way to the gates. Luckily no one asked or hardly seemed to notice us as we walked by. But I noticed the guards checking every car of all Asian people at the gate.
In spite of all the street noise and hordes of people, I felt an immense relief once we got past the gates. Cindy pointed across the street to the fabric district and I excitedly proceeded to step out in front of the four lanes of traffic that we had just done the 'U' turn in front of. I quickly realized this was not a good idea and retreated to the curb. There were countless eight or ten foot wide alleys full of little cubby hole shops filled with fabric. The variety was amazing but not as amazing as the surroundings. Many no smoking signs were posted, but either no one noticed them, no one could read them, or no one cared. Many people smoked, but the most peculiar thing was the ongoing stream of motorcycles and small vehicles that drove down the alleys. While looking at the fabrics I had to keep one eye on the alleyway so I could quickly step into cubbies to get out of their way. They did the usual 'I am here' beeping, but when everyone is beeping at the same time it all just blends together into this noisy din. And the exhaust fumes combined with the sewer gases made for an air quality that was quite unbelievable. I seemed to be the only person who had any notice or care about this. Most people just sat in their little shops, drinking tea, eating lunch, visiting or napping as if nothing was wrong.
When we found the sewing machine shops most of them carried only industrial machines. We finally found a couple that had domestic machines. They had machines set up for people to try. As I looked them over I noticed a small crowd gathering around and realized it was to watch me, the foreigner. I tried out a couple and then found one that ran fairly smoothly. I turned to Feng and brightly commented that I liked this one, it was really good. She looked at me with a bit of impatience but mostly amusement, came up close to me, and told me to never use the word 'good'. She informed me that 'good' was one English word all Chinese salesmen knew. If I say good, the price will skyrocket. She was right. I could have bought that machine at Lord and Taylor for less. There was no turning back. We left that shop and went on to the next one. I had learned my lesson and tried to keep a poker face and a dull tone of voice as I checked out their wares. The machines were cheaper and didn't run as well, but I found one that seemed to fit my needs. I told Cindy I could settle for this one. She came up close and asked if it was good. I almost burst out laughing. I nodded and she smiled while looking a bit mystified.
Then she set to work bartering for the machine. I was tired and really just wanted to just buy the machine and get home. But as I have realized, there are certain things you just have to go with, so I tried to settle in for the ritual barter. I have started to think that bartering is one of the most popular sports here in China and Cindy is Olympic quality. I like Cindy a lot, but she is one to have as a friend and not an opponent. No one stands a chance with her, but she seems to enjoy it so much that she takes forever before going in for her kill. She asked the price and acted shocked and they went back and forth for a while. The salesman acting very insistent and firm and her pointing and making what seemed to me to be insults of the machine's quality. She finally turned to me and said it was too much and we should leave. This may have been a bartering tactic, but I couldn't go along with the routine any longer. I just wanted to buy the machine and get home. I was ready to give them their price. She told me it was around $200. It was my turn to be shocked. I said I was sure they had started very high since I was a westerner. I became energized as I told her how it was a cheap, rough running machine. I told her they could never sell that machine for that much because I would never have to pay that much in even the US. This was the truth and I was quite sure the salesman was aware of this also. I began to tell her it's failings, which were many. She lit up as she gathered ammunition and went back to work. We went back and forth. I used the machine a bit more and told her more about it and showed her what I meant. We stood as a unified formidable team. We ended up getting the machine for $70. USD which is about what I would have paid in the US for the machine. I am sure the shop owner got much more than he would have from a local person. But entering the bartering 'zone' with Cindy made time stand still. In the end she, the salesman and I all smiled with satisfaction at each other and at a barter well done.
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