One of the questions that travellers to developing countries ask themselves is how much to haggle when buying things. There is a school of thought that says that the shopkeeper or stallholder will not sell at a loss and are free not to sell to you at all so you should always haggle. Some people get very competitive about things and set themselves a target to always buy at a certain percentage of the original price – say 35%, although this will vary by country. In China, for example it can be as low as 10%, while in Thailand it is more like 50%. I think that most cab drivers, souvenirs hawkers and anywhere where there isn’t a written menu of prices tend to accept a bit of haggling – even welcome it.
I was taught all the haggling skills I know by my dear friend Hannah, who once got me a beautiful hand-embroidered brocade skirt for all of £7 (down from £30) in India, almost reducing an old lady to tears of frustration as she stalked us through the markets of Anjuna begging for our final offer. I’ve never been that good. I’m always aware of the hypocrisy of a westerner arguing over a few pence with a man or woman who earns a thousandth of what they/we do. But I don’t think that’s a reason for not haggling at all.
I enjoy a good haggle. The banter of it, the order in the seemingly chaotic way of paying for things. Imagine my shock when I find that my boyfriend can’t haggle AT ALL. The whole concept seems to have passed Jamie by and he gets very English about it, squirming with embarrassment at the mere suggestion. Even when I or one of our friends are trying to cut a deal, he will be nervously pushing money towards us, trying to get us to offer more.
This morning, for example, we found ourselves at a shabby-looking stall in central Kota Bharu next to a smelly storm drain where a shifty man shifts huge quantities of dodgy DVDs. Having elected to buy Transformers 2 (of course) the moment comes to pay. I ask how much and are told “10 ringgit” (about £1.60), so I immediately offer 6, knowing I will end up paying 8. Jamie interrupts me with a hand on my arm and whispers in my ear: “I don’t think they haggle here!”
“If not here, where else?” I gesture round me at the shabby table, the dodgy looking men, the ratty-looking drain and continue with the seller who is now demanding 9. I open my mouth to offer 7, but – before I can say anything – Jamie says, “Fine!” and gets out his money. I stare open mouthed… like the beard seller in Monty Python’s Life of Brian before me, I am horrified: “This bloke won’t haggle!”
Haggling isn’t just about the money. It’s like a language where the two parties learn a little something about each other. The seller’s first price says: “I know this is too high, but do you? Are you a sucker?”
Placing your own first offer at a point much lower than you are willing to pay shows that you aren’t to be messed with. One third to one half of the original offer works very well in most places. If you go lower than this be wary of causing offence, but this is rare.
Mock-offence, i.e. “you insult my family,” “that price is highway robbery,” isn’t real and usually just means that the seller is enjoying himself.
Haggling is something human beings have been doing since before money; before even any kind of currency – then we did it with cattle, weapons, women. It is a skill that is as natural to us as conversation and shouldn’t be approached with embarrassment; that is almost insulting to the vendor who gets the right to know how much he will sell his goods for. Far from being something where the westerner gets ‘one over’ on the poor local, the local always ends with the upper hand (they will not sell at a loss) and two people can enjoy the back and forth of this primeval sport.
And so I have made it my mission to educate Jamie in the ways of the haggle. Lesson one: How to buy a fake beard…with free gourd?
