Here is how I passed my first Vietnamese Language test.
I needed a jacket. After ten days in Dalat, it was time to venture out of town. The highway leading North from Dalat crosses the Central Highlands along the wartime Ho Chi Min Trail. Lonely Planet proclaimed it "A wonderful motorcycling road". Even in the tropics, riding at an elevation of 1500 meters, I needed protection against the chilly air. Cho (market) Dalat was the obvious shopping destination.
As I started down the staired road leading to the market, a middle aged woman unfurled a huge bundle, and spread a colorful array of jackets on the steps right under my feet. In a melodic tone with the diction of an auctioneer, she started chanting 'milame, milame'... Right next to her, another woman spread her merchandise and started her own chant. A young man with a bigger bundle and louder voice positioned himself a bit lower on the stairs. More followed. Within seconds there was hardly room to walk through the piles of clothes of all types. All the vendors were chanting, bringing to life the market scene from Porgy and Bess. The first pile was mine. The vendor kept tumbling the pile, washing-machine style so that sequentially all items were exposed. In the jumble of jackets, I managed to find the one that was the right size, material, and color, and was also not too blemished. It was time to settle on the price.
Here I need to digress.
In Vietnam, every price is negotiated. Anywhere. Even in the street stall selling Pho Bo (Noodle soup with beef), where the price has been long established, the hardy Vietnamese will negotiate for a few more condiments in the bowl. A westerner in Vietnam is faced with an additional problem. The starting price for a foreigner is higher than for locals. My unscientific survey shows a 50% increase for an experienced foreigner, while a wide eyed tourist may be asked twice or three times the going rate. You can often feel the split second hesitation when they try to place you in the correct category. The occasional error is quickly fixed with a smile, with no one loosing face. The nice aspect of haggling in Vietnam is that the process is short. You are not subjected the middle-eastern laments of hardship and loss. You offer half the asking price, and after a couple of rounds, the Vietnamese vendor seems to loose interest, says "No" and turns away. At this point, you most likely hit the vendors price target for foreigners. Only if you walk away, and the vendor doesn't call after you "OK, OK", do you know enough for negotiating in the next stall. To me, each purchase is a psychological adventure, though frequently I tire of the process and let myself be overcharged a couple of dimes for a bottle of the local wine (Vang Dalat: $2.00).
Back to the jacket.
I came to the market armed with two negotiating tools: A target price, and patience. Now straddling the pile of jackets I tried the third tool, watching what the locals are paying, The transactions were few and too fast to observe. Where is the negotiation? That's when inspiration struck. What if the chant contains the price? I replayed the chant at slow speed. Could it be that Mi-lam-e, is actually muoi-nam (-eh) meaning fifteen? I handed the vendor fifteen thousand Dong and was acknowledged with a thank you smile. That's how I passed my first Vietnamese Language test, and became the proud owner of a ninety five cent jacket.
I needed a jacket. After ten days in Dalat, it was time to venture out of town. The highway leading North from Dalat crosses the Central Highlands along the wartime Ho Chi Min Trail. Lonely Planet proclaimed it "A wonderful motorcycling road". Even in the tropics, riding at an elevation of 1500 meters, I needed protection against the chilly air. Cho (market) Dalat was the obvious shopping destination.
As I started down the staired road leading to the market, a middle aged woman unfurled a huge bundle, and spread a colorful array of jackets on the steps right under my feet. In a melodic tone with the diction of an auctioneer, she started chanting 'milame, milame'... Right next to her, another woman spread her merchandise and started her own chant. A young man with a bigger bundle and louder voice positioned himself a bit lower on the stairs. More followed. Within seconds there was hardly room to walk through the piles of clothes of all types. All the vendors were chanting, bringing to life the market scene from Porgy and Bess. The first pile was mine. The vendor kept tumbling the pile, washing-machine style so that sequentially all items were exposed. In the jumble of jackets, I managed to find the one that was the right size, material, and color, and was also not too blemished. It was time to settle on the price.
Here I need to digress.
In Vietnam, every price is negotiated. Anywhere. Even in the street stall selling Pho Bo (Noodle soup with beef), where the price has been long established, the hardy Vietnamese will negotiate for a few more condiments in the bowl. A westerner in Vietnam is faced with an additional problem. The starting price for a foreigner is higher than for locals. My unscientific survey shows a 50% increase for an experienced foreigner, while a wide eyed tourist may be asked twice or three times the going rate. You can often feel the split second hesitation when they try to place you in the correct category. The occasional error is quickly fixed with a smile, with no one loosing face. The nice aspect of haggling in Vietnam is that the process is short. You are not subjected the middle-eastern laments of hardship and loss. You offer half the asking price, and after a couple of rounds, the Vietnamese vendor seems to loose interest, says "No" and turns away. At this point, you most likely hit the vendors price target for foreigners. Only if you walk away, and the vendor doesn't call after you "OK, OK", do you know enough for negotiating in the next stall. To me, each purchase is a psychological adventure, though frequently I tire of the process and let myself be overcharged a couple of dimes for a bottle of the local wine (Vang Dalat: $2.00).
Back to the jacket.
I came to the market armed with two negotiating tools: A target price, and patience. Now straddling the pile of jackets I tried the third tool, watching what the locals are paying, The transactions were few and too fast to observe. Where is the negotiation? That's when inspiration struck. What if the chant contains the price? I replayed the chant at slow speed. Could it be that Mi-lam-e, is actually muoi-nam (-eh) meaning fifteen? I handed the vendor fifteen thousand Dong and was acknowledged with a thank you smile. That's how I passed my first Vietnamese Language test, and became the proud owner of a ninety five cent jacket.
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