Speechless at the market

I spotted a pair of shoes at a Thai flea market. I turned them over, to look for the tag telling me the size, and the price.

The stallholder saw me. She picked up a piece of paper, scribbled a note, and thrust it under my eyes.

'250,' it read.

'Is that the price?' I asked.

The manufacturer's tag told me the sandals cost B275. The stallkeeper, a woman in her 50s, was offering me a discount.

'You can speak,' she said, looking relieved.

Some Thais do not trust themselves with the English language - or maybe they worry about my own inability to use Thai.

I should have kept quiet. I would have enjoyed negotiating over the price on paper. If that failed, we could have used sign language.

Imagine if I had taken the note, and scribbled, '230' in response. If that was too low, she could have offered a slightly higher price of her own. We need not say a thing.

'Try them on,' she urged.

I took off the sandals I was wearing, and tried on hers. They fitted my long feet, but only just.

'They look too small,' I said. I thanked her, and walked away.

A flea market is held in the market where I live, two or three times a week. Stallholders set out their goods on trestle tables. Walking between two rows of tables, I spotted one woman who lives in my condo. She was selling something too.

I kept thinking about the shoes. Ten minutes later, I returned.

'Try them on again,' the stallkeeper said. 'That's a good price.'

My partner Maiyuu normally buys me shoes. He buys good-quality ones, for B1000 or more.

These ones, made of black plastic, were much cheaper. I could use them for kicking around the market, which would spare wear and tear on my good shoes.

The stallkeeper could see I was interested.

'Two hundred and twenty,' she said, offering a further discount.

'You're taking all the fun out of it. I hardly ever buy shoes. I didn't say a thing, but already you have cut the price twice. Next time, please give me the chance to haggle,' I said.

I rarely get the opportunity to bargain with shopkeepers over prices. Maybe that privilege belongs to tourists.

The woman looked worried. 'Are they too cheap?'

'No,' I assured her. 'The price is just right.'

I gave her B220, and she put my shoes in a bag.

I must visit that flea market more regularly. I like picking up bargains, even if I don't have to dicker for a better price.