A Canadian in Beijing: FOR SALE! Live Animals (Trapped) in Small Cages

by Ember Swift on

Walking along the sidewalk here in Wudaokou in the late afternoon and evening is not a passive exercise. The sidewalk markets take a wide space and transform it into a narrow, colourful corridor as vendors roll out their ware on square pieces of fabric on both sides and then call for your attention as you pass. That doesn’t keep people off the sidewalks, of course, but instead draws more to this small area. As a result, congestion is intense and the going is slow. If you’re not headed anywhere in particular then it’s worth the stroll. (If you’re trying to get somewhere on time, I suggest walking along the street!)

I have been taking in these kinds of street markets all over the city since I arrived and I’ve noticed one common element: there are always small, live animals for sale.

I hate to see it. Small rabbits in cages that are just slightly larger than they are with barely enough room to turn their bodies around. There are always puppies and kittens, turtles, snakes and lizards of various sizes. All of them are miserably tucked into cages or plastic cubicles and lay taking in the afternoon heat in their cells.

I can’t free them and I can’t save them . . .

I feel helpless and powerless walking by. I wonder who actually buys them and why. Do the rabbits become pets or food? And the reptiles must simply become pets, right?!

The huge box of baby chicks would make a lot more sense to me if this were a rural area. I can understand people having farms or small lots on which they would raise chickens for eggs and/or meat. Now, if this were the intention for the chicks, then I can understand wanting to sell them and wanting to buy them. But, here in the city? What would a person do with a baby chick here? Is it legal to keep chickens here? Something tells me that it’s not, especially since almost everyone lives in an apartment.

I have seen a lot of things like this here, i.e. things about China that I don’t understand and don’t want to see but simply have to accept as being part of the way it is here. I know I have my cultural background that fuels my opinions and I know there’s so much more to everything than meets the eye. Still, life here in Beijing has occasionally challenged my values and beliefs. I have chosen to sit back and take in the culture rather than passing judgements before I understand.

Two months later (and then some) and I still don’t understand the reason for selling these small animals in this way. And, I still want to set them all free in a park somewhere… which is, of course, not the answer. Nor will any amount of discussion with a vendor change the fact that they’re being sold, especially not in my third language.

About a month ago, I expressed to a vendor in Chinese that I felt sorry for the animals. I said they were “poor things” and said that their “houses were too small” (lacking the word for “cage” in my vocabulary.) The vendor just laughed at me with a look that told me he has heard it before from the foreigners and he has no time or space for it. This is his livelihood. This is his job.

Who buys them?

My friend Sarah told me that she knew two people who had bought puppies or kittens from a street or sidewalk vendor only to watch them die just a few days later. There is a compulsion to want to give one – if even just one – a safe and cage-free life and many ex-pats succumb to that urge. Apparently, these puppies and kittens are often drugged so that they appear more docile and cute while being sold (rather than active and hard to contain.) If the dosage is too high at that time that they are drugged, it eventually kills them but long after the vendor and customer have exchanged money for merchandise. I haven’t heard this since, but I was horrified to hear it at all.

Back in North America, we have done lots of work to make pet stores more humane. There is often a lot of anger towards them and over time I have noticed that most people just don’t trust these stores to care for the pets properly, preferring to find new pets at the Humane Society or the local pound.

So, buying live animals on the street is just another level altogether.

Now, when I’m strolling through the sidewalk markets, I just steer around the animal vendors. I can’t bear to see the congestion of turtles or chicks in boxes too small for their volume. I can’t bear to look at the puppies lolling in their drugged state and worry about whether or not they’ll pull through into adulthood.

After driving my gaze deep into the vendors’ eyes and telepathically communicating “how could you?” alongside of an amazed expression, I turn my head.

This technique doesn’t make it go away, however. Maybe this post will inspire more people to ask the vendors the “why?” questions – especially those fluent enough in Chinese to carry on a conversation. Until then, I can write about it.

(And always be open to other suggestions…)

A Canadian in Beijing: Dancing the Bargaining Dance

by Ember Swift on

I have tried my best not to spend too much time at the markets here in Beijing. It’s easy to do. They’re addictive. I think it’s the action combined with the colours and the diversity of people you can see there. Not to mention the fact that “things” are so cheap here (by Canadian standards) that it’s hard not to get excited when you find a gift for a friend that costs a fraction of what it would back home.

And let’s not forget the bargaining.

One of my friends on campus, Daisy, is an expert bargainer. She is from France and she is just starting to learn Chinese. After only two months here studying the language, she has mastered most of the bargaining lingo and she chats easily with the shopkeepers in a dance that I find highly entertaining. Watching Daisy bargain is like watching a stage show by an expert choreographer. It’s not just her words but also her facial expressions – the disdain, the disgust, the surprise – and then her exaggerated body language that communicates a complete and utter disregard for the item in question no matter how much she would like to purchase it.

It’s awesome.The first time I went shopping with Daisy, I felt as though I should apprentice with her when it comes to bargaining; she is the master and I am the student and I watched her technique closely for subtlety and style. She has a gift.

Here in Beijing, there are several kinds of large shopping complexes. So far, I have experienced the “Yaxiu” markets down near Sanlitun area (very geared towards tourists) as well as the Wudaokou Fuzhuan markets which are here near my school. Both markets were vast and carry stall upon stall of stuff, stuff, stuff. Both feature overpriced clothing to start with that can be bargained down to a reasonable compromise after engaging in the dance. Both are exhausting, in that enjoyable kind of way.

Yaxiu markets is a huge building with several floors. Each floor has its own character. There are floors that feature only accessories like belts and purses, another for children’s wear, another for adult clothing, another for silks and materials, etc. We only spent time on three different floors before we left again, but I managed to bargain myself into two new t-shirts and a pair of jeans – with pant legs mercifully long enough for my tall self.

We noticed the presence of lots of foreigners at Ya Xiu and the obvious mark-up on the clothing as a result. As soon as a shopkeeper saw us, I felt sure that the price doubled thanks to our appearance. Clothing that I’d seen in the Wudaokou markets for just fifty or sixty kuai was suddenly being quoted at two-hundred kuai here. A standard response of ours was “tai gui!” (too expensive!) which was always responded to with “wo gei ni pianyi yidiar” (I’ll give it to you cheaper!)

Well, of course they will – otherwise, where’s the dance?

Daisy came away with several bags worth of skirts, shirts and shoes. I asked her how she was going to be able to send all these clothes back to France with her and she said that she probably wouldn’t send them home. “They wear out too quickly anyway,” she said, “They’ll probably break before I need to go home!”

And herein lies the problem:

When I first arrived and was asking about markets, my friend Traci said this to me: “The great thing about China is that the clothing is cheap.” Then she paused for a moment and followed that up with, “But the bad thing about China is that the clothing is cheap.” I laughed at these double meanings, but it’s so true. These clothes aren’t made to last, to be sure, and Daisy’s approach is one of many.

For me, I have been trying to avoid these markets because I can easily get sucked into the incredible discounts and the fun clothes. I don’t want to contribute to all this consumerism, but I’m as susceptible as the next person. What I know to be true is that the more I buy here, the more will be made and the more this cycle (and production) of disposable goods will be fuelled. I have already had to sew a tank top I bought a few weeks ago because the stitching came undone at the seams. I’m working on a moderation theory. I’ll let you know how it goes!

The Wudaokou markets are more casual than Yaxiu. Fewer tourists and lower prices to start with, narrower passageways, and just as much stuff. There are also food stalls, manicure booths, stationary stalls and I even saw a whole stall devoted to custom sticker making. Outside, there are merchants selling goods out of the backs of their cars. It’s a circus and I love it. I stand in the midst of the chaos and smile.

Then, I turn and see Daisy in the midst of another choreographed bargaining scene and I take a look at what she’s after. She’s handing a pair of shoes back to the shopkeeper gruffly and she’s at the point where she is not only poised to leave but actually walking away, flippant and irritated. This is the “piece de resistance” because it generally gets her the price she wants. The shopkeeper will fear losing the sale and concede to her final offer by calling her back as though this amount is her name. Today was no exception. Money was exchanged, the shoes went into a bag and the bag went into her hand.

I saw a smile flash in her eyes but she kept her cool and showed no reaction in front of the merchant.

She’s my new shopping hero.

Pictured from left to right are David (Canada), Daisy (the shopping hero from France!), Daniel (South Africa) and Tobias (Switzerland). These are some of my dorm friends here at Beijing Language and Culture University.

A Canadian in Beijing: Pedestrian Police in Shanghai

by Ember Swift on

Walking in Shanghai is a completely different experience to walking in Beijing. Unlike the latter that includes constant sidestepping and a forced alertness to mopeds on sidewalks or enormous bicycles catching my heels, Shanghai is tame.

After checking out the Bund, my friend Sarah and I took to the underground walkways that help pedestrians cross the wide busy streets (oh, how civilized!) and emerged again onto Nanjing Rd East, known in all the guide books as a shopping mecca for tourists. What this means, usually, is “expensive” shopping. And, yes, that’s what we discovered.

(But, then again, we’re from Beijing.)

We wandered farther and found cheaper markets about ten minutes north. These were full of people — swarming in fact — and I came to appreciate a particular employment here in Beijing:

Pedestrian Police.

I was charmed by their official whistle that – not once, not twice, but three times – beckoned me into obedience and stopped my Beijing-borne desire to jaywalk.

These men and women stand at major intersections and don fluorescent vests, whistles on strings around their necks and ropes that actually tie in the pedestrians when the crowds start to misbehave. They literally draw the rope across the waists of those who are in front of the crowd and about to spill into the roadway. It most certainly has a damming effect on the flow of feet.

In Beijing, I have joked with fellow students about the best way to cross the street being to “attach yourself” to a group of others and to cross at the same time. This is the clue that it’s possible: others are doing it! That theory, as you may have noticed, mentions nothing about traffic lights.

Here in Shanghai, the traffic police will wave you back with annoyance as though you’re not sophisticated enough to understand the simplicity of those very same traffic lights. It’s amazing that after only one month, I have come to regard traffic lights as just part of the décor and not an indication of how I ought to conduct myself as a pedestrian! In my Canadian style, when I was yelled at by the first “officer,” I felt sheepish and immediately apologized.

He eyed me with curiosity.

Most people do.

Oh Shanghai, where’s your anarchy?

Final pic by Sarah Keenan. All the rest by Ember Swift.

Photo of the Day (4/14/07)

by Grant Martin on


Now is the time I should be off shopping for tonight’s dinner at the grocery store, but instead I am feasting my eyes on the fresh fishy catch of the day out of Cochin, India. Captured by one of our own Gadling contributors, Dia Draper, who you may recall is cruising around the globe slowly, but surely. I can honestly say I have her and her photos to thank for my being lazy. (Not quite, but when I go hungry tonight the blame has to fall somewhere.) I think I’d like to have some of that pink fish found on the end there. Smile.

Photo of the Day (9/25/06)

by Adrienne Wilson on


I love Arabic and Persian writing even if it’s written on a dusty piece of masking tape or label on a jar. While I think I can make out the words pronunciations I couldn’t tell you whether it’s paint or condiments in those jars. I’m sure evanr would have a clue. He took this photo while in Islamic Cairo right outside of the Khan Al-Khalili Market. So telling, yet not so telling.