Haggle for your Coat

It's cold in Amsterdam, and so I decided it was time to get myself something more substantial than the red windbreaker I received when I worked for NYU Commencement. Lenny and Joyce told me about "Waterlooplein," a flee market in Amsterdam with "good deals." So, I went. Among me sat the usual tourist stuff: wooden shoes, tulips and Van Gogh prints. However, I was tempted by the surprisingly large array of coats available for purchase. My first attempt was at the €10 coat stand. A very round Dutch man was also there, trying his luck. We got to chatting (in English, after I tried out my meager-at-best-but-steadily-improving Dutch on him) and discovered that if we combined ourselves (his arms and my torso), we would fit every coat on the table. So, that was a bust. As I moved on, however, I found for myself drawn to another stand, this one with four overflowing buckets of Swiss Army Knives outside. Again, I didn't pack one of these (for fear of airport security stealing it away from me). And, as I dug through these piles, hoping for something that wasn't either too obviously a knock-off or rusted beyond recognition,a scraggly looking man approached me and said something in Dutch. Apparently, I look American enough that he just switched over to English. He explained something I couldn't quite grasp about needing a knife and looking for one that costs €1. I suggested he take my knife and ask if we could collectively get a good deal (€2 each instead of the listed €3). Something happened, I'm not sure what, but I was approached by the stall owner and asked for €4. Apparently, this guy thought I was buying him his knife. I explained that he had to pay for his, handed over my €3 and left. Never thought somebody would try to do that to me in the Netherlands!

Back on the hunt for my coat, I spy a huge woman standing by a stall with a rack of denim jackets. I smile at her. She smiles at me. I pick up a jacket. She blows smoke in my face from her cigarette. I put down the jacket. She retreats to the back of the store. Eventually, I realized that this "dance" we were doing had something to do with getting me away from the denim jackets and towards the cloth ones on the other side of the store. I step over, carefully, towards the cloth jackets and pull down one that I like. It is tan with blue sleeves and has some sort of logo with the letters U and S in it (it is definitely not USA, so don't worry.) I ask in broken Dutch how much the jacket is. She replies, "Fifteen euro... it is good price." I must REALLY look like a tourist, or my Dutch is worse than I thought! Never one to accept such a grossly high (well, not really) offer, I counter with €8, hoping for somewhere around €10. "No," she replies, "it is very good price." So, I turn on my heals, walk towards the hanger and, as I am about to turn away, I turn back. "Ten?" I ask meagerly. "Twelve-fifty," she laughs. "Sold!" I shout, hand over the euros and race away with a "danke vel" before she can change her mind.