Jottings from the Granite Studio

Often when I go to the market to buy something, I find it useful to feign ignorance of the Chinese language. I find walking around as a deaf-mute relaxes people and causes them to say things (like the actual prices) in my presence that they probably wouldn’t say otherwise. Some of the things said can range from the naive to the nonsensical. When I first came to China, I used to rush to stand up for myself whenever the commentary took a turn for the personal, now I find it more amusing to let them prattle on for awhile.

Yesterday, we went to a little hutong to buy 剪纸 jianzhi for the Spring Festival. As usual, I hung back a little bit and let YJ and her Mom do the real shopping lest the seller know there was a laowai involved and add the usual ‘foreigner’ surcharge on each purchase. As I stood before the rows of delicately cut red paper, the seller’s helper came up to me and asked me what I liked. I responded by smiling and shrugging my shoulders. “tingbudong?” (don’t you understand?) he asked. Another customer, a woman of vaguely lao tai tai age wandered over