OznAsia

I wrote before, back when I was in Hanoi, about the way so many tourists ignored the hawkers as if they were afraid they would be forced to buy something. Generally I like to to talk to people in the countries I visit. In India I am finding the need for a different tactic.

When I am in a different place I often stop and stare. Others may not realise what I am doing. In my mind's eye I am framing a picture. I am looking at a scene to see if it makes a good composition. If it looks good then I'll take my camera out and shoot it.

This was happening one day in Rishikesh. I had just crossed the Laxman Julha bridge. Already I had said 'No thank you,' politely to several hawkers. I had turned around because there was a group of people posing for photos with a particularly friendly monkey. I was thinking it might make an interesting shot to show the photographer and the models and the monkey. While considering this I was approached by yet another hawker.

'Would you like to look at some postcards, sir?'

'No thank you.'

'I have some very nice...' I can't remember what it was but these guys have a whole heap of things on their trays. If you don't want postcards then they'll try you with something else.

But I'm still trying to concentrate on framing my picture. 'No thank you,' more firmly.

'I can show you some...'

At this point I lost it. 'Do you understand English? I don't want to buy anything. Fuck off!' I had also lost my concentration and walked off.

I admit I didn't handle the situation well. Later on the same day I was browsing in some shops for souvenirs for my grandchildren. I noticed a way that many of the sales assistants treated me that I found off-putting. If they reached a point where they believed I was not going to buy what they were trying to sell, they would ignore me. The wouldn't politely say, 'Well, have a nice day' or close the conversation in some other way. They would behave as if I didn't exist. Not sure what they were trying to achieve but they certainly ensured I would not return to their shop for anything else.

I decided that if this was the way people behaved in India then in this case perhaps I could learn something. Next time I came across the bridge I was again approached by several hawkers. I stared straight through them and kept walking as if they weren't there. It worked.

Maybe those tourists I observed in Vietnam had visited India earlier.

Labels: Asia, hawker, India, travel

No one I spoke to had anything good to say about Delhi but somehow circumstances are such that I've just spent a week there.

I asked my friends with India experience where I should stay in Delhi. It seems they all say Pahar Ganj. No one could actually recommend a place they'd stayed. There was no enthusiasm but no one knew any other options. And online reviews aren't enthusiastic either.

I decided to check local knowledge. I asked Nazia what she thought about Pahar Ganj. 'Don't go there,' she said. 'It's full of touts. It's not a nice place.'

'So, where do I go?'

'I'll find somewhere for you.'

Nazia lives in suburban Delhi but the reality is that locals don't know where you should stay. They never have to look for accommodation in their own town.

Online I tracked down a guesthouse not far from her place. She checked it out and said it didn't look too bad but she had reservations.

I emailled and asked what was their full all-inclusive room rate. They wrote back and said 'refer to our website'. The website quoted 1,000 rupees for a single room and made no mention of seasonal rates. That's not cheap for India. We aren't talking about starred accommodation. Still, I emailled back and asked them to book me in for two nights.

The place wasn't all that bad. It was clean, had air-con, hot running water if you could figure out how it worked and most importantly - the bed was comfortable. They served breakfast and the food was OK. When I checked out two days later, I was presented with a bill for 3,000 rupees. When I questioned them, they said the rate in the website was the off-peak rate and this was the peak period (for one more week). Nazia came along to pick me up and joined in the conversation - in Hindi - which meant I was out of it. The clerk referred her to his boss by telephone. The boss said he couldn't do anything but quoted his boss. I stupidly paid up.

I am not mentioning the guesthouse name because I understand this type of practice is not uncommon in India. I present this anecdote here as a warning to all travellers to India. Don't do what I did. I recommend that you do not accept vague references to a website - ask for a firm price. Don't book unless you get it. If they try to change the price, refuse to pay.

So, where to next? I was prepared to try Pahar Ganj but I wasn't going there if Nazia could help it. I had jotted down a few notes off the internet. Top of my list, because of price, was the International Youth Hostel at Chanakyapuri. Nazia was quite enthusiastic about this because Chanakyapuri is a good area. We took a taxi there and yes, this area is very pleasant - lots of trees, little traffic and quiet. This is the area where you'll find all the foreign embassies.

And the hostel? Well, it's certainly not luxurious but it's clean with basic comforts. There are several options ranging from private rooms with air-con to dorms. But if you turn up on short notice, as I did, you might not get what you are looking for. (Check their website and book ahead.)

For my first three nights, I got a room to myself but had to share the bathroom.
For the rest of my stay, I was in a dorm.

I usually avoid dorms, mainly for security reasons but security here was good. You get a locker to which you can add your own lock. It was big enough to hold my main backpack. If you're fussy, check them out first as you're allocated a specific one. Some are in better condition than others. They also offer secure storage on another floor which looks pretty good. I put my computer bag in there as I wasn't going to be using the computer anyway. As an added precaution, I put a lock on the bag.

Weighing up the differences between a private room and a dorm, there are pluses and minuses to each. If you want quiet, the private room is definitely the way to go as people come and go in the dorms at all times of day and night. Some are considerate of others. Some definitely are not. I've also discovered that Indian men are even worse than Chinese men with the noises they make to clear the phlegm from their throats early in the morning.

What I liked most about the dorm was the opportunity to meet others. I shared my dorm with an interesting range of people, none of whom were Westerners. Among the Indians were a couple of guys who were part of a team working on a new political journal. There was also an (almost) retired professor of political science and an historian working on the period before and after independence from a Muslim perspective. Foreigners included two Afghan students. I also met a young accountant (really nice guy) from Argentina.

There were some superficial renovations taking place during my stay but some major work is also needed. The hostel is advertised as being 'eco-friendly'. The main feature of this is the solar hot water system which only operates in the winter months. At the moment it is stuffed so there's no hot water at all which, of course, is still eco-friendly : )

Both of the bathrooms I used were pretty bad in general. The plumbing challenged my understanding of the laws of physics.

The hostel has a kitchen which serves reasonable (mostly Indian) food. Breakfast is included in the room price. Sometimes the kitchen is open for lunch, sometimes not. You have to book and pay ahead for lunch and dinner. There is a deadline for this which may or may not be enforced depending on the staff member on duty. If you miss out, there is a local 'market' where food is available but the range is limited unless you are looking to dine in a fancy restaurant. (The one I tried is quite good.)

Chanakyapuri is not in the centre of Delhi but it's only ten minutes away from Connaught Place by auto rickshaw (similar to a Thai tuk-tuk). There's usually one or two waiting outside the hostel. They will ask you for a fare of 60 - 100 rupees for this. Offer them 40 and walk away if they mention a figure over 50. There is also a bus for much less than this. The nearest stop is a pleasant ten minute walk from the hostel. They can at times be way overcrowded but pick the right time (as I did) and you'll get a comfortable and maybe interesting ride.

If you want to check out Pahar Ganj (as I also did), it's a walkable distance from Connaught Place or take the metro. It certainly is an interesting place to visit. Vibrant is the word that comes to mind. I'm told there are good restaurants there but I didn't try them. Yes, the touts are there but after six years in Asia I know most of the tricks. Inexperienced travellers should be cautious with people they don't know. Don't be paranoid or you'll miss out on the fun. Just don't believe too much of what he says. (So far I haven't met a female tout in India but I'm open.)

Back to the New Delhi International Youth Hostel, if I haven't turned you off (not my intention), I suggest you check out their website and remember to book ahead.

Labels: Asia, hawker, holiday, India, ripoff, travel

Some of the hawkers have come to know me now as the see me day after day wandering the streets of Hanoi. Occasionally they go through the motions but most of them know it is just a game and that I am very unlikely to buy anything.

On one corner there were three or four hawkers standing and sitting with their wares. I stopped for a minute chatting. Suddenly, someone said something that I didn't understand and they scattered. They all but disappeared, then stopped and returned. It was a false alarm. They thought it was the police coming.

There were two motorcycles approaching. They looked like police to me but I am often confused by uniforms in Asia.

'So what do the police do if they catch you selling?' I asked.

'They take all my t-shirts and make me pay money,' one answered.

I'm not sure exactly what that means except that for the hawker it is an overhead expense that must be factored into the price they charge for the goods.

Labels: Asia, Hanoi, hawker, Vietnam

I recently received an email from a friend in Australia which said '...you need to be very cautious as the population obviously thrives on fleecing tourists'. Please friends, don't lose any sleep over my challenges in Vietnam.

I wonder if my recent blog 'Hanoi hawkers' might have been an overreaction. Did I bring my friend to this belief? If so, I need to revisit the subject and put it in a different perspective.

When one arrives in Hanoi everything is new. Even though I've spent much of the past four years in Asia, this is different, so I walk the streets with eyes wide open. I see the hawkers in the street and stare. Naturally enough, they zoom right in on me. I am unfamiliar with Vietnamese prices, or at least that is what they expect, so some see it as an opportunity to milk as much money as possible from me.

However, this is not all hawkers and lets face it, only a small proportion of the 3.5 million people living in Hanoi are hawkers. Most of the people I've spoken to here are friendly and helpful. Some of the hawkers have even got to know me and say things like 'Oh, we are friends now and still you won't buy anything to help me.' Guilt manipulation? Perhaps, but with the tongue wedged in the cheek.

What is a fair price? We in the west are conditioned by the concept of the 'recommended retail price'. We think there is a correct fair price for everything. If we pay less it's a bargain. If we pay more we've been ripped off. This is our culture. Please excuse the people of Asia if this is not theirs. They have a right to their own culture.

So, when you visit an Asian country the first thing to remember is: There is no such thing as a fair price. The second thing to remember is: The correct price is whatever the customer is prepared to pay and the vendor sell for.

When a vendor sells their goods to a local there is no point in asking a highly inflated price. The local either can't afford it or simply won't pay it. So they ask a reasonable price, perhaps a little higher than they expect to get. The buyer makes a counter offer, a little bargaining takes place and a price is agreed on. Correct? Fair? Who knows? It is simply the price that both buyer and seller have agreed on. Both had the option to decline at any time.

When a vendor sees a foreigner they know either from experience or hearsay that foreigners are crazy and will pay anything. Think of a number and multiply it by ten. Is that the correct price? It is if the foreigner is stupid enough to pay it. You have choices. You can make a counter offer or you can walk away. You don't have to pay it. If you choose to do so, don't blame the vendor. You have a choice.

After spending a little time in a country a few things happen. First I stop staring, second I start to get a feel for the usual (I almost wrote 'correct') price for the goods. I hate bargaining. Therefore I probably pay more than the locals. Occasionally I get ripped of badly but usually we are talking about a few cents. In Australian money I am still getting a bargain.

I walked up and down the market this morning comparing prices of mangosteen. I love this fruit and it is said to be very healthy. The first vendor asked for 20,000 dong per kilo. I immediately compared this to what I had paid for lichees, 5,000 dong, and was shocked. I tried other vendors. The best price I could get was 25,000 so I went back to the first vendor and bought my kilo. I was disappointed when I got home. Half of them were off and I had to throw them out. But it's not a big deal. The whole kilo cost me a total of $A1.50. Mangosteen are rarely available in Australian supermarkets and when they are there is no way I can buy half a kilo for $1.50.

Is our culture more moral than theirs? What did you pay the last time you bought a t-shirt? I've seen t-shirts in Australia 'on sale' at $79. On the other hand I've paid as little as $A2 for t-shirts in Cambodia and Malaysia. Who is making the big profit? Certainly not the vendor in an Asian country. When Billabong buy there t-shirts in bulk from an Asian factory what is the price they pay? I don't know, but my guess is that it is less than $A1 a piece. What price do you pay for that same shirt in Sydney or Brisbane?

Mr Billabong sleeps in his extravagant beachfront mansion on the New South Wales north coast. The Asian hawker probably sleeps on a rattan mat on a concrete floor. I wonder who sleeps more soundly.

Labels: Asia, Hanoi, hawker, market, millionaire, money, ripoff

Never before have I been bombarded with so many hawkers. And never before have I met hawkers so persistent and who ask so much more than the real price. In the old quarter of Hanoi there are hawkers everywhere. When they see a westerner they smile because the sight of a westerner means an opportunity to make a lot of money.

I have experienced this latter aspect in Cambodia. But the Cambodian hawkers are not so greedy nor so persistent. They usually accept 'no'. Of course this phenomenon is created by tourists. Ask yourself, if you were an extremely poor vendor and every foreigner who bought from you gave you a tip, how long would it take before you put the price up to include the tip?

However, some vendors have another tactic they use on top of overcharging. They try to make you feel guilty if you refuse to pay their price. They argue, 'You very rich. I poor. You can afford to pay.' Among others, I heard this argument from a guy hawking pirate copies of books such as Lonely Planet guidebooks. He was asking only a dollar or two less than the recommended price of the authentic book. The quality was nowhere near that of the real thing.

I go out walking each day. The streets of Hanoi fascinate me and I take lots of photos. This morning I was walking through a market when a guy pushed past me in the crowd and told me he would fix my sandal for me. I bought these sandals soon after I arrived in KL three months ago. They may be cheap but they are still good. He put his stool down on the footpath ahead of me and got out his needle and thread. He's was pointing to my sandal and saying he would sew them up for only one dollar.

'You're kidding!'

'OK, 15,000 dong.' One US dollar is about 16,000 dong.

'No thank you.' I continued to walk on down the street.

'12,000...10,000' He continued to follow carrying his stool.

'If you do them for free I don't want you to sew my sandals.'

He turned, said nothing and walked away as if to snub me.

One morning I was walking along the lake shore. It was hot. I was a little tired so I sat on a bench to rest in the shade of a tree. An easy target.








A book vendor was the first to approach me. I'd been there long enough to know their prices and their quality. I got rid of him quickly.

A pretty young girl came and sat beside me with a basket of souvenir gift items. She sat with me for about ten minutes going through all her items one by one. 'You have daughter? She like purse?' The purses were very nice and she only wanted 30,000 dong for one. But I wasn't biting. She took out a fan and showed me the beautiful craftsmanship and began fanning my face.

'How much do I have to pay you to sit here and fan me like this all day?'

'100 dollars.' She smiled.

I told her that I really didn't want to buy anything but if she wanted to sit I was enjoying chatting with her. She stayed. Occasionally she showed me something else which I politely rejected.

While all this was going on I noticed there were other westerners walking along the lakefront. A vendor would approach and they would not engage with them in any way. They wouldn't even say 'no'. They would make no eye contact, just walk briskly past.

I think this is unfortunate. To me, the most enjoyable part of being in a different country is to be able to engage in some way with the local people and to try to see the world from their perspective. Tourists such as these might see the sights. They might go to a cultural show but surely the real culture is to be found in the people themselves.

After the delightful young lady had decided I was a lost cause and moved on, another came and sat beside me. She looked very young. 'I have to sell to make money to go to school,' she told me. Yes, I'd encountered this phenomenon many times at Angkor Wat.

'I'm sorry, I don't want to buy anything,' I told her. 'But if you want to sit and chat that's OK.'

She did but every now and then would hopefully show me an item. Unfortunately this didn't last long. A security guard came along, gave her a talking to and sent her away. When I got up to continue my walk she was on the other side of the road. She beckoned to me but I didn't bother.

So, am I totally as hard as nails? Four years in Asia has made me immune to even the most pathetic beggar but occasionally I do get caught.

In Vietnam many women carry their goods in a couple of baskets hanging from a piece of wood across their shoulders. One tried to sell me some pineapple or bananas. I declined. She followed. Then she offered, 'Take picture.' She smiled as she pointed to herself. She was quite photogenic. I was tempted but I figured that would have a price too.

Eventually she gave up. But it wasn't long before another started following me with similar goods and the same patter. When it got to 'Take picture', I said, 'I'd love to take your picture but you will want me to pay you.'

'No money,' she said.

'No money?'

'No money,' she was already posing.








'OK.' I took a few shots of her.

When I'd finished she put down her baskets and said, 'Now you buy bananas.'

I could have walked away but I didn't. 'How much?'

'30,000 dong.' I knew the price was over the top (for Vietnam) but I figured I'd been done, so I paid up gracefully. It would have been cheaper to just give her a dollar to take her picture. But then the bananas were quite nice.

No sooner had I completed the transaction when the previous vendor turned up. 'You buy from her. You not buy from me.'

'Tomorrow,' I said and walked off. She followed me for a few blocks but eventually gave up.

This happened the morning after I had arrived in Vietnam. I did a lot of walking that morning without any plan, in no particular direction. Some of the streets had sweeping curves and eventually I lost my sense of direction. I found a fairly major longish street and headed off in the direction I thought would take me back to my hotel. After a while a motorcycle-taxi driver offered me a ride. I took the opportunity not for a ride but to ask directions. I showed him the card I'd been given by my hotel. He pointed in the opposite direction to the one I was heading. I thanked him and headed off.

Five minutes later I had still not found any landmarks I knew. I stood for a while trying to make sense of the little map printed on the back of the hotel's card. I was approached by a little man with a bundle of stamp albums and sleeves of coin collections. He didn't try to speak English or even Vietnamese, just grunted as he shoved them at me. 'No thank you,' I said.

As he walked off I thought I could see that he had a map or two amongst the albums. But he'd gone. I was still standing there trying to get my bearings when he approached me again. Once again he tried me with the stamps and the coins, then he pulled out a map. It was a street map of Hanoi. 'How much?' I asked.

'Six dollar.' He could speak English. Well it was more of a grunt but I could understand.

Six dollars for a map printed on one single sheet. Does this guy think I'm crazy? 'No way! Forget it.' I would rather stay lost than be ripped off.

'Five dollar.'

'No.'

'Four.'

'No.'

'How much you pay?'

What is a fair price for such a map in Vietnam? Can't be much more than a dollar surely. I offered him 20,000 dong.

'25.'

I accepted, paid my money, got my map and found my way home.

A few days later I was in another part of town. I discovered a bookshop and went in for a browse. I was interested to see what they had in English and also if they sold that map. They did. Their price? 7,000 dong.

Labels: Asia, Hanoi, hawker, money, ripoff, travel, Vietnam