I was looking for wrought iron art when I bumped into a store in one of Beijing's immense home decoration centers. This year, wrought iron is particularly fashionable.

"You'd better choose from our works on display, so the costs are lower," advised the young salesman in his early 20s. Unlike most other salespeople I've met, he spoke standard putonghua.

He did a fair job, evidence that he has received at least basic training in the arts and his job. But I couldn't help gazing at the single, nail-shaped earring shining in his ear.

"For a pair of these, 50 yuan ($6.80)," he said, after we agreed on a leaf pattern in Arabic style, using a thick copper-like material.

"Shouldn't we call the boss to make sure?" the young girl, who had been silent all this while, asked the young man timidly.

"There's no need," said he, waving his hand.

As we discussed how to fashion another pair of bronze ornaments, the young man looked up and uttered, "Here comes my boss. You'd better talk with the real expert."

A balding man in his 50s walked in. To my surprise and amusement, the young man greeted him as "Dad".

"What's up?"

The Dad-boss sat down with much gravity and we eventually came to terms, even though I was surprised to learn the leaf pattern would cost 100 yuan per pair.

"But your son just offered half that price," I protested, then jokingly added: "We should've settled the deal before you came back."

"He doesn't know the business well," said the older man. "But if you had inked the contract and he had only charged you 1 yuan, I would have honored the deal."

Embarrassed, the young man pretended to fix a dangling ornament on the door. But was it really worth adding a foreign element to my already crowded home?

Seeing my hesitation, the old man remarked: "You will forget about the price soon. After all, you could spend the same sum on a single meal with your friends."

I accepted this but when I tried to cut down the costs by opting for a thinner material, the old man was indignant.

"They are different materials. If I agree to do the work for you, I must ensure it is the best."

After living in the nation's capital for more than 10 years, I've noticed that local residents - people who are at least second-generation - are proud, whether they are taxi drivers or acoustic system dealers.

Many literary works have discussed this phenomenon and some social critics attribute this pride to Beijing's long history as the nation's political and cultural center.

Sometimes this can be annoying to newcomers, especially those from smaller cities or the countryside. But more often than not, I find local people very lovable.

"Well, I'll trust you to complete the contract. I must hurry to the hospital," said the old man to his son. Then he turned to me: "What a life! Both of my parents are in their 80s. The old man is paralyzed and my mother fell ill last night."

So we said goodbye and I left with a contract in my hand and a deeper understanding of the old city I live in.

(China Daily 12/20/2007 page20)