Many years ago my Chinese friend Judy insisted on accompanying me to Yashow market, where I hoped to buy a bag into which I could bundle all the rubbish I accumulated on my walks around Beijing. Judy wanted to protect me — from myself. She knew I wouldn’t be able to handle the vigorous bargaining, theatrics and faux indignation. She was right. The bag for which I would have paid 100 yuan was ours for 15 yuan. The difference was a matter of great theatre. At one stage during negotiations with the saleswoman, after an outburst of such indignation and a look of such horror on my friend’s face I was sure Judy’s parents and all belonging to her had been grievously insulted, she dragged me away. That was the end of the bag, I thought. We paused around the first corner. In seconds the saleswoman arrived, bag in hand. The deal was done with smiles all around. Every time I returned to Yashow without Judy’s protection I proved to be easy pickings for the traders. I was reminded of my trips to...

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