Vince´s Travel Tips Part 1: Negotiating the Prices of Commodities

I will start with two quick updates. First, the shower is in fact cold, no matter the water pressure. Apparently I was hallucinating. It was nice to hope, though. Sigh. Second, my little person reporter (the pocket bike rider) actually works for the radio (I’d say something rude about not having the face for TV but I’m going to take the high road) and, as it turns out, I was mentioned in Friday’s morning news. My homestay family was delighted to hear it albeit slightly disappointed that in about 30 years of living here, they had never made the news while it took me no less than 3 weeks.

In an addendum to our previous newspaper discussion, I would like to share that I am shocked at how graphic the pictures in the paper are (in terms of violence, not in terms of nudity. Get your heads out of the gutter, folks). I had heard this about Nicaragua before coming but was still a little shocked when I saw a “fresh” (I can’t think of a better word, sorry) murder victim on the front page of the paper. In the picture, the police are just doing their thing while this pool of blood forms under this lifeless body. Similar pictures have accompanied car crash stories. They also enjoy publishing photos of grieving family members. It’s a good thing that the combined effects of Law & Order, CSI, and their respective branches (except for CSI Miami. I will not admit to watching CSI Miami.) have desensitized me to violent crime, otherwise I might have a stronger reaction.

Buying non-food things here is still a little bit strange. I never know when or if I should be haggling so normally I just don’t bother (because it’s so little money anyway that I don’t mind being fleeced- I consider it my investment in the community). Also, I don’t haggle because I don’t yet possess the language skills necessary to haggle without being rude and/or inadvertently buying seven items I don’t want and/or paying 13 times the retail price. In my non-haggling experiences, however, I have found four tell-tale signs that I am not being given the regular price (regular, here, being defined as “the price a Nicaraguan would pay for this weird souvenir item that they wouldn´t buy in the first place.”).

First, when I ask (in near perfect Spanish since this is one I’ve practiced many a time) how much something costs, there is a long, drawn-out silence and a deep breath before a very tentative answer. I can only assume that several things are occurring in this silence: (1) they are assessing the quality of my Spanish, the state of my tan, and my demeanour in order to rank me on a scale from “reasonably well-versed traveller who has been in the community for a while and knows this game” to “newly arrived tourist”; (2) they are trying very hard to remember if I have been in the store before and, if I have, what price they told me last time and how to explain a sudden jump in price should they remember incorrectly; (3) they are trying to decide what price sounds ridiculously high and what my breaking point may be; and (4) they are reading the fear in my eyes and making a judgement as to whether or not I know how to barter in Spanish. At this point in my travels I am pretty easy pickings and rank only slightly higher than the overweight fanny pack wearing couple from Texas with safari hats, Hawaiian shirts, and sunscreen globbed on their noses.

In addition to the long silence, the second tell-tale sign of a rip-off is a glance to the other sales associate followed by giggling. I can only assume that this brief interaction is actually a complicated comparison of each individual’s assessment of me on the scale described above. Giggling, I assume, means “I think that we both agree that this weirdo is a sucker, but at least he is friendly and sexy (see note at the end of the document for more). Take his money, yes, but do so with a smile, and maybe not at the maximum price.” Other reactions I imagine at this stage are full out laughter (“We’ve got ourselves a live one! They probably don’t even know the exchange rate! Go for the jugular!”), a sigh (“This individual may possess the language skills and wherewithal to barter. Proceed with caution.”), or a shake of the head (“There is something strange about this one. Their Spanish is quite good but they are wearing shorts. I can’t get a proper reading.”). After this consultation, the salesperson will share the price of the item with me.

This initial price declaration is followed by sign #3, an abnormally fluctuating price. While in some countries in the world, über-inflation (technical term) may account for this, Nicaragua is not one such country. There are no 7 billion dollar bills here. Regardless, the initial price of a single item is normally raised two to three times in the course of the discussion. Consider the following example and see if you can track the inflation.
Vicente (in near perfect Spanish): “How much does this cost?”
Salesperson, planning her approach: “65.”
Vicente: “65?” (wanting confirmation, not inviting a price increase)
Salesperson: “Yes, 75.”
Vicente (clearly confused. He is in the trap.): “Sorry, what’s that?”
Salesperson: “This item that you want. It’s 90 cordobas.”
Vicente: mmmm. (Has discovered that silence is the only way to stop the bleeding.)

This whole exchange doesn’t really matter, though, because the final sign, perhaps the most obvious one, is when the prices they quote you for four individual items (195, 75, 70, and 30) do not add up to anywhere near the final price at the counter (480). You can do the math on that one. This is probably the one time that I could say something like “really, madam, do you really think that in addition to speaking no Spanish I can’t count? I may seem like an idiot, but I assure you, madam, I am only a linguistic idiot” but, again, this is not really a lot of money (you can say whatever you want about “it adds up” but, to be fair, it really doesn’t because (a) these are not trips that I make on a daily basis, (b) my daily cost of living here is about the cost of two illegally pirated DVDs (or so I’ve been told. I have never bought such a product. I repeat. I have never bought such a product) and (c) they still “add up” to less than a Starbucks beverage. I don’t mean to pick on Starbucks (that’s a lie) but you get my point…). Also, even if it were a lot of money, it is going to small shops and families in the community. I’d mention something about the trickle-down effect but that sort of Reagan-esque talk may have me deported.

In one final unrelated note, I never mentioned the time last week that I became an object, a veritable piece of meat. Here I was, admiring art in the community center (not a random trip, but a school activity. I felt I should clarify in case any of you thought that I became an art snob while living here. I have not. Art snobs wouldn’t approve of my unshaven, dirty shorts and t-shirt look) when all of a sudden, a group of two young women walked right up to me, took my picture with their cell phone, and ran off giggling. It was unbelievably weird for a few reasons. First and foremost, who does that? Talk about invading my personal space. If I see myself appear on the Internet I’m phoning the police. Or Dr. Phil. Also, those of you who have seen me (which I can only assume you all have at some point) will know that while I am many wonderful things, I am no pretty face. I’m just saying. Finally, this was not even a shower day, so I can only imagine the scene that that could have provoked… The whole incident lay somewhere between a grossly inappropriate invasion of privacy and a welcome boost to my self-image. I’m still grappling with it.

While I grapple, here are a few pictures of the waterfall I visited last week in a series I entitle: "Vincent Terstappen, Aspiring Nature Photographer, Macro-Zoom Enthusiast". Enjoy. I would put captions but they are all pretty self-explanatory (waterfall, salamander, flower and/or weed) and these trips to the Internet Café aren´t free.