Competition for the consumer's buck in China is no longer a joke. State-owned industries that once monopolized everyday goods have pretty much gone the way of the dinosaurs. In short, you've got everything from Chinese and foreign mega-chains right down to local mom-and-pop shops-and they've all got their eyes trained on your RMB.

Of course, the problem is how to catch consumers' eyes.

Now, Zhang Liwang, who runs the hole-in-the-wall shop around the corner, will no doubt negotiate with whatever it is you're buying. And if he hasn't got whatever it is you want, why, to be sure, he just happens to have a cousin or a brother in Xiamen or Harbin who can mail you the item in a day or three. Bigger outfits don't take this homey tack-they've got "gifts and promotions."

Which brings me to the problem of my sneakers.

Here at Taiyuan University of Technology, in Shanxi, we are, I am informed, like the Chinese economy and indeed, like the universe itself---expanding.

Mostly, we have an ever-increasing number of students. Which means we need bigger and better buildings, which means we need bigger and better roads, and don't forget water-pipes and electrical lines…and so on (as my students like to cap it). Ergo, 365, 24/7, something or other is going up or being torn down in just about any direction you look.

And by the end of the semester, my sneakers, having carried me over this battlefield of progress, look like hell.

As I was saying, buying something these days in China is not merely shopping; it's more like an adventure. And while not quite of the Alice-in-Wonderland variety, it does somehow partake thereof. To wit: Once you slip down that consumer rabbit-hole, you're likely to encounter everyone from the Mad Hatter to the Queen of Hearts, and wind up either with a whole lot more, or less, than what you bargained for.

Which brings me back to the problem of my sneakers.

On the day in question, my girlfriend and I visited so many stores and saw so many kinds of sneakers that any attempt to catalogue them would be encyclopedic in nature. I guesstimate around 25 shops and a couple of hundred types of sneakers. Or maybe it was a couple hundred shops with 25 types of sneakers. Hard to say.

Therefore, let me limit myself to the simple and true statement that we saw a whole lot of sneakers. Possibly enough to outfit the Red Army for another Long March.

Finally, having circumnavigated the not always pristine environs of Taiyuan, we wound up in a small Mizuno outlet, where I tried on a pair of high-tops of the "X D Long" make. A fine brand, the saleswoman informed me.

My feet agreed, but my wallet protested slightly at the 270-yuan price tag.

The saleswoman smiled. She had, de rigueur, "gifts and promotions" for us.

"Hao ba (OK)!" says me. "Ni you shenme? (What are they?)"

First, your lovely girlfriend may choose one of these lovely T-shirts, free. The lovely girl does.

Next, the lovely girlfriend may choose one of these lovely baseball caps, free. The lovely girl does.

Next, the handsome gentleman may choose a handsome pair of socks, free. The handsome gentleman has the lovely girlfriend choose the handsome socks.

Finally, the sweet couple is given a sweet 5-kg bag of rice, free.

I wanted to ask the saleswoman if she had a partridge in a pear tree for us, but seeing as we were already so overloaded with "gifts and promotions," we hadn't anyplace for the bird to perch.

Well, who could say no to a deal like this?

Feet now newly shod, with our grab-bag bagged, we exited in search of a taxi.

"Please remember us!" chirped the pleased saleswoman.

Indeed, how could we forget?