Hefei—Finding joy and gems in a local market

By Patricia Mohr@

“Isn't it also great when friends visit from distant places?” -Confucius

It was our second day in Hefei, and we had just finished listening to a local city administrator speak about provincial planning and politics. Riding back to the hotel on the bus, I started feeling antsy. I still had not met any locals and had no idea what life was really like. A guy from our tour group told me about a city market located just next to a factory. It was late in the afternoon—closing time for the factory workers. As we drove past it, we saw them pour out of the gates and head towards life outside of work. It seemed like an ideal time to immerse myself in the crowd.

I hopped off the bus after quickly jotting down the name of the hotel where we were staying. It felt good to be in the streets.

Children rode by on their bikes. People playing cards around a table greeted me cheerfully. I watched the people who were still in their factory jumpsuits breathe their first taste of freedom of the day. They looked happy and carefree.

Turning the corner, I found myself in an alleyway of the local market. The street was full but unhurried. It was comfortably crowded. People made way for each other to pass. Their faces were open and welcoming. They paused to greet each other and adore the children.

Still in my business suit, I felt overdressed for the market. I stopped at a small store and bought some khaki pants. It was an easy sale. Though the price was not listed, we quickly settled on one easily without tough bartering. Unlike the silk market in Beijing, the merchants at the store did not jack up the prices. They gave me a local price, rather than a tourist price. The exchange was warm and honest. The business of buying and selling came naturally. Friendship came first. That was the way it was.

I spent the next several hours roaming the market. My digital video camera bridged what could have been a language barrier to friendship. People paused to wave hello or to encourage their children to smile for the camera. It made me happy to show them their own reflections in the camera.

The place gave me a sense of serenity. Whereas in Beijing the streets and alleys were filled by a complicated mix of bikers, cars and buses, the Hefei market was peaceful. Only the soft rumble of an occasional motorbike accented the tip-tap of foot traffic.

An older woman sang as her companions offered me a seat next to her. Though we did not share a common language, we shared a sense of companionship if only for a few moments. Sitting there with her reminded me of being a child visiting the home of my next door neighbor, a Vietnamese family who had recently emigrated. At times, they would host relatives who had just arrived into the country. They knew no English; and I knew no Vietnamese. It did not matter. There was no need to talk. We knew we were in the company of friends. I felt the same sense of acceptance among the people in the Hefei market.

China no longer seemed like a foreign land with foreign food and foreign government policies. It was a place where the people were warm and welcoming.

Being in those streets felt like a safe haven from the fast paced development. It was sheltered from the world of mega-million-dollar deals. It was a community, modern but simple. Life was in harmony and balance. It was the way life should be. The people were peaceful and calm. The pace of life was easygoing and natural. They were trusting and genuine.

Before I left, I bought a pink pearl necklace from the most gentle looking and graceful man I have ever met. A small crowd gathered around to watch as he made my necklace for me. He asked me for my offer, and I underbid the price. The crowd chuckled warmly at my offer. It was then that I realized the pearls were real. I had assumed they were fake, like so many of the products I had seen in Beijing. But this was not Beijing. This was Hefei—a place where people are genuine and the gems they sell are real.

To this day, I treasure those pink pearls. They remind me of the warmth of the man who strung them together. And they remind me most of all to think of China as a land of people—authentic and hospitable people.