The Hongqiao Market

The first Beijing Market we went to was the “dirt market”, an outdoor market full of small stalls, where people still set wares on blankets to the tourists and locals wandering the aisles.

The Hongquaio market was an entirely different beast, a five-story complex featuring glass display cases, screaming salespeople pushing their wares and the fiercest bargaining we’ve seen.





The first floor was a fake electronics wonderland. I managed to talk some Danish tourists out of buying a 400GB thumb drive, nearly giving the shopkeeper an aneurysm. The fake Iphone hardware looked and felt good in the hand, but the software was horrible (almost none of the functions were anything but an icon, leading to a file directory), the touchscreen so-so and, of course, there was no internal gyroscope.

Sure, the mini-Iphone felt pretty good size-wise, and I wouldn’t mind picking up the real thing in June, if that is in fact what we’re in for.



I did end up buying a fake Bell & Ross watch, getting gouged horribly for $15. I was so excited to see it that I my excitement overwhelmed my now-honed bargaining senses. It stopped working about three hours after I bought it. Wearing a broken fake watch is a level that I would never have imagined stooping to, but it’s a pretty sweet watch. We also picked up some cheap, colorful plastic watches for gifts, so those of you that care for that sort of thing, get excited. You know who you are.



The second floor offered shoes, clothing and assorted knick-knacks. The shoe merchants were the pushiest I’ve ever encountered. We had to weave through those aisles with our heads down, sliding past thrusting arms pushing wallets, belts and shoes. Our ears rung with shouts of “what you want,” “come back,” and “best price.” We did end up buying some nice porcelain tea mugs with integrated loose-leaf tea strainers. We’d seen them advertised as high as 70RMB, but we got her down to 10. I also picked up a couple soccer jerseys for $3.50 each.





My mother devoured the third and fourth floors. She bargains like some sort of spice trader, or a fur trapper, or New Jersey Jew. She cut every price in half, at least. She’d spend fifteen minutes picking out ten bracelets, haggle mercilessly for another ten, then walk when they didn’t come down enough to satisfy. She must have been murder to deal with during her years as a corporate lawyer. Included here is a picture with a saleswoman she eviscerated.



Finally, here is the screamingly incongruous roof garden, a serene oasis floating above five floors of madness. This place should have been overflowing with men whose wives and girlfriends were downstairs duking it out over jade pendants and fake shoes, but I didn't seen anyone up there. Maybe there was a sports bar I didn't know about.