Chinese Marketing

Only the starving man and the compulsive coupon-cutter enjoy grocery shopping.

It’s a shame really, because searching for food to sustain yourself and your loved ones is our most primal task. And even at shopatoriums like Carrefour, there is the judging of melons, the reading of nutrition labels, the comparison of bargains to replace the thrill of hunting and gathering. But then the flourescent lights, the bumping carts, and passive-aggressive jockeying for fruit-weighing dampen the spirit of food shopping. Also, the check-out line, reminding you that you are a consumer robot, a faceless customer to be processed.

Food gathering can be an adventure again. Open markets should rank solidly on the plus-side of your list for living in China. Paradox rules what we call reality, so while they seem dirty and chaotic, open Chinese markets offer freshness and variety not to be found at mega-marts. And best of all, since these massive open markets are comprised of individual stall-preneurs, no lines.

It’s hard to tell fair fruit from foul under flourescent glare. In the light of day, the fruit can’t lie, although the vendor can. No matter, there are scores of stalls to select your produce from. The marked prices are comparable to those indoors – but a little haggling saves ten to twenty percent, depending on your attitude. And your Chinese.

Fresh Veggies, as far as the eye can see. True, no thirty kuai avocadoes, but none of these farmers would dare display the wilted produce you find in abundance next to the frozen goods aisle.

Caveat emptor – the enterprising vendor has been known to let the odd jin of cherry tomatoes appear to be a jin and a half. A small price to pay for not having to hold your position against old ladies to get your produce weighed at the supermarket.

The Artful Dodger would have a field day – most of these vendors are setting up shop before dawn. By noon, many are counting sheep, not change.

Trusting fools, these farmers. Stacking all those cukes and carrots must’ve really taken it out of him.

Firm tomatoes, glowing in the noon winter sun. Matisse got it. Probably did his shopping outdoors too.

All that spinach, but no peace. The farmer’s lot is one of toil and worry. How’s about fattening his pocket, instead of some global corporation’s bottom line?

Fear not, carnivores, a world of flesh awaits, un-shrinkwrapped.

You’d have the same thousand-yard stare, up to your ears in pork all day. She’ll slice it, grind it, everything short of cook it for you, too.

The fish section is best avoided in summer. In December, though, nary a vapor to wrinkle one’s nose at.

Great shin-level pools, where the condemned thrash out their final hours. But a fresh victim is a tasty victim.

Yeah, you can get live ones at Carrefour, when it’s your turn. Plus, these killers will gladly scale and fillet your finned friend.

Buying bagged garlic off this rural raconteur was easily the highlight of the trip. If you think wit and wisdom only come with college education, stop by her stall.

Filling up on your daily cute quotient is free at the marketplace – few farmers opt for professional daycare.

Is stoicism genetic? You should have seen her smile when she saw her face on the camera screen.

Altogether now: one, two, three, “Awwwww…”

The first school-age kid I’ve seen in public not being micro-managed by an overconcerned parent. Watch out, she might end up with a mind of her own.

Plenty of teens working alongside their parents on Sunday, instead of enriching themselves at English classes and piano lessons. She almost certainly won’t be attending college, but she’ll have more business experience under her belt by 21 than any coddled Beijing Emperor.

All the variety, all the sights, smells and sounds, just across the river behind Newtown Soho, at Dawanglu. There’s one in your neighborhood, too. So what are you waiting for? A checkout line?

Special thanks to Kerry Xie for her camera skills.