Imagine a giant shopping center, extending down into the subway and up into about eight floors of shopping, with each ranging from men's clothes, knockoff Prada bags, jewelry and suits, and electronics. Each aisle is filled with small, 10 by 10 booths that essentially offer the same merchandise as their neighbor. But the craziest part was the fact that the second the vendors spy a white man walking by, hell breaks loose.
Patrick, the only one in our group who speaks Chinese and is familiar with the customs, just stands by and watches as I am bombarded with with offers from vendors, most blocking your path so you can't go around. He thinks it's hilarious, and it really was, as the people don't actually speak English but for enough to yell what they sell, and pretend the don't know what NO means.
It only really got annoying when we went through the luggage area, and one woman grabbed my arm to drag me into a booth while another literally shoved luggage at me to block my path. That was getting on my nerves in a bad way, along with some vendors obviously saying things to you that they wouldn't if you knew what they were saying.
Otherwise, Silk Alley was an experience as Patrick convinced Chris, Leroy and myself to try a foot massage. Best. Idea. Ever. It was too bad our feet hurt anyway after walking home, but for the time it was worth it.
3 comments:
Am I allowed to comment? If so, you let someone touch your feet?? That poor soul. :)
I certainly hope you bothered to pick up a nice knock-off prada bag for your sister while you were there...
Thank you, Aaron, for only reminding him about Kara...may I say that if you ever brave the Silk Alley again, you have many females in the family.... :)
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