Afterwards, I thought we'd stake out one of these crazy open markets. One of the most well-known was Panjiayuan Flea Market, which only runs on the weekend, mostly Sunday. Since it wasn't Sunday, we couldn't go there. But we had any number of markets to choose from, if we could just find them. China is renowned for their markets, veritable meccas for tacky gifts and knock-offs, fake-authentic Chinese stuff (fans, scrolls, etc.) and, of course, the locals who peruse these very items. Since coming back from China, I've taken to saying that it's difficult to find real "authentic" stuff in China, which is odd because so many things are made in China. It shouldn't be difficult, then, to find real Chinese valuables, but that's not the case. I learned this after "window"-shopping many a Chinese market.
But first we needed lunch. By complete accident, we stumbled across a huge, six-story flea emporium of stuff to haggle for, right across the street from the Zoo (the Zoo is huge). We wended our way through the aisles, me eying the goods all the while, deciding I would stop by this or that shop later to pick out something, William wondering how long he would have to suffer it all. We asked for directions to the food 'court,' which was on the sixth floor--and nothing like we had hoped. A few days ago, we'd eaten at the Oriental Plaza on Wangfujing (major shopping district) at a place called Megabite, where you buy a prepaid card (plus deposit,which you get back once you return the card--which we found out the hard way!) and get whatever you like. This place was nothing like that, more the traditional style with people sitting practically on top of each other and vendors/cooks shouting at the top of their lungs. Unlike what's usual, these guys seemed uninterested in us in the least. I decided I wasn't hungry enough. But I was ready to shop.
I'd already had some things in mind for what I wanted to buy. For the past few months now, I've been looking for some pink clothes without much success, or if I do find something, it's way more than I'm willing to spend. Not so here. In fact, if it was too much, I just haggled until I ended up at a price I was 'willing' to pay. I say 'willing' because, sometimes I'll start the process and not judge very well, and by the end I've spent much more than I should have. Still, Saturday was a day of decent deals. I found a pink and white, floral tie for work (not too gaudy, just a hint of flair--for which I have received many compliments since coming back to Seattle), which was the perfect length when the merchant lady tied it--but too short with the full Windsor that I usually sport. (Later, I settled on a lopsided half-Winsor--or some approximation thereof.) I found a great pink shirt (which I didn't find out until too late had some paper still on it from when the seamstress sewed the emblem on it, but it comes off easily enough), and a
cute pink cap. To celebrate my purchases--a steal at 90 yuan/$15 total--I wore the cap and shirt with some jeans shorts that night. Looking back at pictures, I think it may be too gay to wear here in Seattle. What was I thinking!And that night, I decided it was our best chance to watch a kung fu show. China is all about kung fu, or gong fu as they call it (Americans always get it wrong). There's also an acrobatic show that tourists often go to, but I wanted to see kung fu on the stage. I am my dad's son sometimes (sorry, mom:)). So we went. It was interesting going there, way the hell on the other side of town, but it was totally worth it! Blaring lights, wire-choreography, cheap props, and lousy acting--this was kung fu at its finest! There was even English subtitles, although most of it was spoken in English, which the cast simply mouthed the words to. The production was called "Chun Yi: The Legend of Kung Fu." The story was simple, but it was fun.
When it was done, we went outside to meet the cabbie we'd told to come get us after, but he was nowhere to be found. I saw a young white guy hanging around waiting for a cab and figured he was American, so I started talking to him. Despite his fair skin, blue eyes, brown hair and slight pudge, he was, in fact, Swiss-German. His name was Mark. He wasn't sure how to get around, so we invited him to dinner with us, since we still hadn't properly eaten. Not knowing where else to go, we went back to Megabite in the Oriental Plaza.
Mark was traveling alone, having just come off the Trans-Siberian train by way of Russia, Siberia (I think), and Mongolia. He had a one-way ticket around the world, so he planned to hit up Hong Kong, Bangkok, Phuket, Honolulu, and Cuba (among other places). The catalyst for the once-in-a-lifetime jaunt, however, was a sad one: his dad had passed away, leaving him some kind of inheritance. We exchanged emails afterward and, once we were sure he could find his hotel without too much of a hitch, we went back to Xiyuan Hotel for our last night there.
:)
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