Anyway, there's room in the flat for a modest jungle, so we jumped on the bus and rode for two hours all the way to the end of the line - there was only the driver, us and an old guy, who I think missed his stop as he was staring at the laowai and not paying attention.
The market's vast, an endless sprawl of warehouses with every kind of flower, tree and other-feng-shui-enhancing plant available all under one roof.
We had a go at haggling. It went horribly wrong. There was a crowd. There was arm waving, wildly repeating the same unintelligible Chinese sentences, jeering, scoffing and tutting. Think the haggling scene from Monty Python's 'The Life of Brian' - "Ten for that, you must be mad" - but with the only two foreigners for 20 city blocks, right in the middle of it all. We pad the asking price, £2, and went on our way, very quickly.
Don't get me wrong, it was a very successful trip, and we lugged back three new greeneries for the flat.