What the Americans really want, of course, is to buy more from China and pay less.

Since that's too much chutzpah, they accuse China of undervaluing the renminbi by 15 to 40 per cent to tempt US buyers.

Henry Paulson, the US treasury secretary, who traded harsh words last week with China's iron lady, Wu Yi, a vice-premier, naturally wouldn't admit that his country is saddled with an alarming trade deficit only because Americans can't curb their appetite for cheap luxuries.

Even more heated exchanges are expected next month when the Democrats take over the Congress. The Chinese don't take kindly to public lectures even if the advice is in their long-term interest.

Ben Bernanke, the American Federal Reserve chairman, did just that when he called on Beijing to further liberalise its financial markets and spend more on social services so that the Chinese save less and consume more.

As it happens, Hu Jintao and Wen Jiabao, China's president and prime minister, have already promised to boost pensions, invest more in education and improve the quality of life.

But they smell a rat the moment a foreigner like Bernanke - and a high-ranking American government economist - tells them that the best way of achieving their goals is by strengthening the renminbi.

Their thoughts turn at once to the $190.6-billion American trade deficit in the first 10 months of 2006, which could rise to an unprecedented $240-billion for the entire year.

Following the advice Bernanke threw at China from a public platform thousands of miles away would entail unthinkable loss of face. No wonder, Madam Wu roundly told the Americans that not only did they "have a limited understanding of the reality" of her country, but that they also "harboured misunderstandings."

Every exporting country tries to undervalue its currency to boost earnings, but the 1985 Plaza Accord, which raised the value of major world currencies against the dollar, did little for the US trade balance.

Not that it's difficult to see why Sino-American trade should be so heavily weighted against the US. Go into any American chain store or supermarket to look for presents for friends in Asia and you will find little to buy.

I experienced that in New York even in the early 1960s when the jackets I liked turned out to be Bleeding Madras, the pretty shell napkin rings were from the Philippines, and the table linen had been woven in Hong Kong. Not till I reached a Navajo reserve did I find some American Indian turquoise studded silver worth taking back.

This shortage of indigenous artefacts is understandable in a small country like Singapore with a carefully balanced economy where children are said to be convinced that eggs are manufactured by the supermarket.

When my son started going to school in Singapore in the early 1990s, the only food commodity in which it was self-sufficient were eggs. By the time he finished school, even eggs were imported.

That is understandable in a situation where geography forces a careful husbanding of resources. But it's become a worldwide trend, at least all over the industrialised western world.

A friend who lives in Germany recently brought us a large tube of Dusseldorf mustard. He said it was the only authentically German product he could buy. Even then, labels can mislead.

Who really knows how much of the contents of a bottle of French red really comes from Algeria? And when something is genuinely made at home - like an inexpensive suit I picked up in London with a "Made in England" tag - my friends said it pointed to underpaid Bangladeshi labour in a Brick Lane sweatshop that catered to some Pakistani clothier in the Midlands.

Such being the glories of globalisation, it's not surprising that Americans have become so dependent on China for affordable shoes, clothing, electronics and other domestic items.

If the bill is huge, it's not because of the cost of individual items, but because of massive bulk orders. It's been calculated that a break with China would either send the US cost of living soaring or mean a downward plunge in the lifestyle of millions of middleclass Americans.

Of course, the Chinese are making money hand over fist, as Indians should have been doing long ago, if we had not been so inward-looking. But they do share some of their profits with the American companies to which many Chinese factories cater.

A number of US organisations have also set up their own establishments on the Chinese mainland to take advantage of low labour costs and good trading terms to supply consumers in the US.

Ironically, the American do-it-yourself giant, Home Depot, signed a deal to buy a Chinese home improvement chain even while Paulson and Wu were bickering in Beijing.

Last week's pioneering strategic economic dialogue was a hopeful sign. So are the typically Chinese sweeteners of a crackdown on pirated DVDs, CDs and software, and substantial deals (including a $8-billion contract to Westinghouse) for four blue-chip American companies.