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Published: December 21st 2015
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I like markets. I like interesting supermarkets, but I also like big, wet, smelly markets where you can buy everything from soap to spices to fishes that were flopping around just a minute ago. Ben Thanh Market in Saigon is just such a market.
I’ve learned to go to these sorts of markets early in the day. They tend to be a little cooler and a little less crowded then. And, too, many merchants think making a sale early in the day will bring them luck.
I had been there earlier in the week and had seen a silk shirt that I wanted. I went there this morning with great resolve; I knew how much I wanted to pay, and I knew the most I was willing to spend. It also helps to have a good sense of humor when dealing with market vendors – they have a lot more experience than you do when it comes to bargaining.
Generally I don’t care much for dickering - or dithering for that matter. So when I found the stall that had shirts like I wanted, I started the game. First, I had to see if it
Ben Thanh clock
The market was built by the French in 1870, and rebuilt in its present form in 1912 after a fire. would fit. Asian women in general are smaller than Western women, and some Vietnamese ladies are positively tiny. I am not tiny.
The little lady who ran the store, and she was tiny, laid out several shirts in different colors for me. I found a couple I liked.
She punched some numbers into her calculator and showed me the result – VND 620K. “For two. But I make it VND 600K.”
“So” I said, “Is this your first sale today?”
“Yes.”
“So maybe you give me small discount?”
“Yes, I give you discount. You buy two shirts I give you more discount.”
“No, I just want one.” And I pulled out my calculator and punched in VND 150K.
“Oh no, that’s too little!”
We go back and forth, punching in numbers, getting a little closer in price. I start to walk away, she lowers the price a little more. I cry fake tears that she is charging too much, she cries fake tears that I’m willing to pay too little, and all the while we are both laughing.
I tell her “If you sell to
plaque
The plaque shows some of the items on offer inside. me, it will give you good luck and more old fat ladies will buy from you.” She says “Vietnamese ladies get fat, too, when they get old, when they are forty or fifty.”
“How old do you think I am?”
She looks at me critically, “Maybe fifty-five.”
“I’m sixty-two,” I tell her.
“You the same age as my mum!”
We determined that I was actually two months older than her mum, and that, I told her, should convince her lower the price.
“You remind me of my mum! I call you Mommy!”
We finally settle on a price that was a little more than I wanted to pay, but within the range I was willing to pay. I pull out my wallet and find that I am VND 5K short, about twenty-two cents US. I show her my empty wallet. By this time she is laughing, and wraps up the shirt for me.
“Bye, Mommy,” she says as she waves good-bye.
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elizabeth
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Story of the silk shirt
Hi Karen! I love this story. It's incidents like these that make traveling more than just a place with a name. I felt like I was there with you watching the whole transaction! Your narrative about war and what you obsered at the museum was very sobering. I too watched classmates, friends, and big brothers go to war in the 60s and 70s. Sounds like you're having a great trip so far. Take care :)