Budget travel in the Third World raises questions beyond just searching for the best bargain – what impact does your travel have on the local economy and how best to interact with local cultures, as Ben Brazil discovered.

We budget travellers can sometimes push the quest for a bargain a bit far. I saw the walking embodiment of this at a market in Ecuador, where a young man with frizzy blonde hair and John Lennon glasses was attempting to buy a pair of pants from a tiny indigenous merchant.

The traveller was dressed entirely in the rough, rainbow-coloured garb that the indigenous people of Latin America sell but never wear, and he was yelling at the befuddled merchant as if volume was the only thing standing between him and a bargain.

“No soy turista,” he was telling the man, who appeared skeptical of the statement that this individual was not a tourist and therefore was, by default, of indigenous Ecuadorian extraction. “No soy turista,” he continued to yell, until it was clear that a deal would not be made in this way. Then he left. It was not a sight that made me proud to be a budget traveller. 

The scene raises a question for those of us who love the value of Third World travel: when does the joy of stretching your money become the evil of impoverishing or insulting the very culture that attracted you in the first place? It is a tricky line to walk, because nothing angers true budget travellers more than feeling as if they’ve paid “tourist prices” far and above what a local would pay.  Yet most of us like to think we respect the places we travel, and that our visit helps the people who live there. So how to strike a balance?

To start, simply think about the contractors, guide companies and other companies with whom you do your travel business. Do they support local people? Patronizing locally owned hostels, textile cooperatives, guide companies, or other local businesses will likely give your tourist dollar the biggest impact on the people you’re visiting. 

Take, for example, the cheapest room I ever inhabited. It cost me $2 per night. For that price, many people would envision a hovel with cat-sized rats and prostitutes strolling in and out.

In fact, my $2 bought me a bed in an old, charming, Spanish-style plantation house on Ometepe, a volcanic island in the middle of Lake Nicaragua. I found the farm – which wasn’t in my guidebook – only because I wanted to climb the volcano above it.

When we arrived, we found an organic coffee operation collectively owned by its workers, as well as a balcony full of hammocks. We paid our $2, lay down, and watched the sun sink. After dark, we headed downstairs and watched a woman cook in the flickering light of an open fire. The flames danced across the face of an old man that sat stock-still against the wall, humming an old ballad. 

If I have ever been in a cooler atmosphere, I don’t remember it.

Besides serendipity, the best way to locate ethical tourism outfitters is the Internet. Among the best sites is that of Tourism Concern, a prominent, U.K-based organisation that promotes ethical tourism. In the U.S. there is Partners in Responsible Tourism – a Californian-based organisation. Members include World Expeditions – a leading Australian tour operator.

The more adventurous course of action, of course, is to simply arrive near the place you want to go and start asking around. At a destination that attracts any number of tourists, there is likely to be at least a few local businesses running tours. They are almost invariably cheaper than booking a tour with a company in a distant city or country. Just remember to be careful when choosing among local guides: if you simply go with the cheapest, you may get what you pay for.

Haggling is something that nearly every traveller does at some point or another. And while you might not be given to yelling “No soy turista,” at a poor indigenous Ecuadorian, some guidelines never hurt. How far should you push it?

Australian tour operator Peregrine Adventures says what many westerners don’t realise is that it’s not about securing the lowest possible price. It’s about fair trade and reaching a tactical agreement that suits both parties. The social interaction is as much a part of the process as the financial outcome. They suggest travellers keep this in mind, and perhaps consider that low prices often mean low wages.  Have fun with it and keep things in perspective, but don’t be mean-spirited. Does haggling over that last dollar really make a difference to you, compared to the vendor?

Vietnamese market

As another Aussie company, World Expeditions point out bargains are possible because of the poor working conditions and extremely low wages provided to the artists. It’s worth keeping in mind that the trader will usually have a very large and extended family to support, and that the bargain you make will come at the expense of their well-being and ability to support themselves.

After you’ve asked around for fair prices and are ready to bargain, here are some more tips to follow:

Be polite. Being rude will tend to lock in a too-high price.

Try to ask the merchant for as many voluntary price cuts as possible before making your offer. This knocks off some of the “tourist premium.”

Consider buying more than one item to get a bigger discount.

Shop near closing time. Merchants will be more eager to make a sale.

Don’t make goo-goo eyes at an item you want, but don’t demean it either. It may insult the merchant and make him unwilling to lower his price.

If you hate bargaining, consider either having a friend do it for you or going to a store with fixed prices.

If you can truly not get a good price, thank the merchant and walk away. They may yell a price reduction.

Remember the circumstances. One dollar may be a matter of pride to you, but it may mean a meal for the merchant.

This last one can be easy to forget, because bargaining can begin to seem like a game. Several years ago in Peru, I was bargaining after dark for a painted ceramic plate. A young, tired-looking woman wanted around $12 for it. I offered something like $3, then refused to budge, lying that it was all I had with me. 

The plate was intricately painted and must have taken an inordinate amount of time to create. I, who had probably spent more than her yearly income on airfare alone, was offering less than the price of a movie ticket.  When the woman finally made the sale, she was nearly in tears. This, I suspect, is what most of us would like to avoid. And, with a little reflection, we can.