Well, evidently we do....Hanxin (that's his name, in case you didn't have that part figured out. FYI, I also call him Hans, his English name (well, Sweedish, but that's another story)) took me to a small shop where he buys pants whenever he goes back to Nanjing. The pants are just the wind/swooshy pants that were so popular in the early-90s (yep, he STILL thinks they're cool), but the shop has other clothes too, mainly winter jackets and the like. Perhaps too much construction dust (Nanjing is more than %50 under construction), or maybe just too much Nanjing salt duck, but I fell under the influence of my environment (Hans), and decided I definitely needed a pair of those swooshy pants. So off we head, and eventually find the right garage door (more on garage door shops later :)). The shop, a concrete box approximately 10 feet deep and about 5 or 6 feet wide, is absolutely heaped to the ceiling with clothes. We step up about a foot and a half onto the concrete slab floor and start to sift. One or two large tables contain a men's pile over here, a few women's piles here, and a baby pile or two over there. Extras are stored underneath the "display table" (lol). Oh, but I can't forget the one long rack. The window dresser for the store thankfully took one of many of the items and hung it up for display. The nice thing about China (or just Nanjing??) is that, when people are selling things that aren't legit, they don't exactly hide the fell-off-the-truck factor, but they definitely don't try and Mal-Wart stuff up and make it SEEM like it's actually worth the $1.50 you're paying. Truthfully, Hanxin's pants rip every six months or so, and I have to mend them for him (reeally hard to do with that stupid parachute material). Yet, I'm pretty sure that, if he asked the saleslady, she would just shrug her shoulders and say "Well, what'd ya expect?" (and then, if she was really like me, she'd say, "There's an Armani store on the other side of the city, but I don't think they sell pants that are outdated by, oh, 15 YEARS!" I'm kidding, I love my hubby, AND his stupid pants). Speaking of the saleslady (and this is where I get to my title point, finally:)), she's probably the main attraction to the store. Not remarkable looking or anything, she's Han Chinese (most likely), short, probably in her mid-60s, and a bit rotund (it's all that damn Nanjing salt duck, I tell you!! It's poisonous!). Hans is really glad to take me to that particular shop, he says, because the woman has "experience with foreigners". All in all, she's just very cute, and the wrinkly smile really tops it off. As I near the shop, she notices me right away. She's definitely sharp for an older lady, and humorously, really curious too. I nod politely and do the "I'm a foreigner feining Chinese girl" smile, my eyes darting toward random points on the concrete (ah, the many shades of gray I have seen in China--if kidnapped I could probably find my way back just by the shade and texture of any one slab of concrete!). The woman steps up into the shop behind us, all 4 feet and, oh, probably 8 inches of her staring at me with intense curiosity as Hans and I talk quietly about what color, style, etc of swooshy pants would look best on me (as if they could look good on anyone but him!).Forced to break the laser beam stare and help us with clothes, Hans starts asking to see sizes. I shed the "big green beast" jacket, and the woman holds up various sizes to my waist. "Wow, you're really FAT!" she says. "I'll look for the biggest size." Now, I should emphasize that this isn't technically supposed to be as insulting when said in Chinese, but, um, it WAS. So much for her abundant experience w/ foreigners! ;P Eventually, after the painstaking labor of searching for the "biggest size", she finds a few, and, while Hans debates to himself the diverse merits of black over khaki or vice versa (for some reason he cares about these things), the woman turns, once again, to rest her laser beams on me.It's kind of hard to describe the feeling of an extremely short person staring so intensely up at you, but I guess it's a little like being 12 years old and realizing for the first time while being chewed out by your grandmother that you are taller than she is. And not just by an inch or so--puberty has put you a good foot and a half abover her. Yet THERE she is, ripping you a new one and you are still, despite your new found physical superiority, pretty frickin' scared! That's kind of what it was like being scrutinized by this woman (only not so much hostility, but instead a ton more curiosity). "So," she asks. "Ni shi tade qizi ma?" NOW, if you don't understand Chinese, then guess what? You'll be in the same boat I was in! I had NO idea what she was saying!"Shi," my husband cuts in on my behalf ("Shi" means YES).HUH? I think to myself! HUHH? As if reading my mind (or at least the waaay confused expression on my face), the woman smiles. Slowly, she points first to me, then to my husband. Next, she shows me two thumbs-up's, and starts wiggling her thumbs. Again, trying to look adorably confused, I shake my head. "Bu dong"(don't understand"). The woman does it again, only faster this time. She first points to my torso (eye level for her), then to Hanxin's back. THEN SHE PLAYS THUMB WAR, AGAIN! I'm just thinking, WHAT THE HELL? Well, every possible thumb-war related activity went through my head. Do we play thumb-war (duh), do we play video games? Maybe she was trying to sell me a video game? Wha?!Well, no, I don't play thumb-war that often, and I've never played it with my husband, in fact (we've never been on THAT long of a car trip without one of us driving). Also, I don't particularly like video games (except for tetris), and I definately did not want to buy one. So I just said "No, no. Bu shi" (Bu shi=No :).Hans hears me saying no, and turns around and says to the woman once again, "Shi, women shi."(yes, yes we are)."What?" I say, pointing in the direction of her ongoing thumb-war game. "Are you kidding? We don't do that! Hanxin, you don't even know HOW to play thumb-war!"The poor thumb-warrior (as she shall be known hereafter), just switched back and forth between Hans and I, herself looking really confused. SO, DO YOU PLAY THUMB-WAR WITH THAT GUY OR NOT??As it turns out, Hanxin and I do, actually, play thumb-war with each other. The "thumb-war" gesture is just a way to ask people if they are in a relationship or not. And yep, "Ni shi tade qizi ma?" means just that "Are you his wife?" And yep, I am his qizi.The pants? They're currently buried under a pile of other clothes I don't wear, in a storage bin I don't look at in a closet in a room I rarely have cause to go in. I'm proud to say I've made only a few totally frivolous purchases in China thus far. Yet, just about every time I buy something, I end up really having a great adventure. LOL :P
No comments:
Post a Comment