Before I left home and told people that I would be spending a month in Morocco there was one theme that came up in almost every conversation: the fear of being ripped off by a viciously aggressive trader. I heard many horror stories of people being lead into carpet shops by seemingly friendly Moroccans, fed pints of tea, and or hash, then not being allowed to leave until they had parted with vast amounts of money for something, often a carpet, that they did not want. I was sceptical of theses stories as they ranged from paying over the odds to outright blackmail and extortion. I decided that the best way to learn the truth was to jump in at the deep end and start bartering.
For the first week or so there was nothing that I wanted enough to engage in a war of words with a possible professional extortionist. In Chefchaoun a few of the guys bough Jalabas (traditional Moroccan hoodies) and , of course, hash. They were not sure if they had paid a good price or had been ripped off; Joel didn't even barter for his Jalaba! Our next major stopover was in Rabat where the selection of goods on offer was far too mush for me to resist.
During our first day camped out in the Marjane carpark Kyle took me into the Medina to show me one of the shops where he had bought a guitar on the previous trip. Within seconds I had seen the most beautiful instrument and decided that I would buy it; the price tag read 600DH. I thought that I would play it cool and return the next day to get the price down.
When we returned the guitar was still there and the shopkeeper took it from its hook and handed it to me: I don't play so I just held the instrument, turning it in my hands admiring the work that had gone into every inch of it. The shopkeeper could tell that I was interested and I could do little to hide my enthusiasm. “Would you take 400 for it” I asked he shook his head so I decided to rely on a tactic from my time dealing with suppliers at the pub. “What's the best price?” I asked he replied “500DH”, I was happy so I nodded, handed over the money and left. My first experience of making a purchase in Morocco had been totally the opposite of what I had been expecting. I was not led into a dark room and forced to buy something I didn't want. I had got a price I was happy with for something I really wanted to buy.
On the way back to the Marjane we walked passed countless stalls selling everything from live chickens to computer games. Kyle decided that he wanted a Jalaba; knowing they had cost 650DH in Chefchaoun I was interested to hear the prices here. Once again the shopkeeper was friendly and helpful; not simply eyeing up our wallets. As we left the shop, Kyle happy with his bargain, a lady held up a Jalaba and said “170” to me; knowing what Joel had paid for his I decided this opportunity was too good to be missed! I got the price down to 150DH for mine and the game had begun! I should point out that although I had decided to turn souvenir collecting into a competitive sport most of the goods on offer are handmade to varying standards and there for most are unique and so have no 'going rate'. In the end, if you have bought something you like at a price you are happy with then you have made a good deal.
The next opportunity for bartering one-upmanship came in Fes at the notorious tanneries. Apart for carpet shops these were the most common settings for daylight robbery in the horror stories from home. We toured one of these dens of corruption; what ever money making scheme they had in mind, it stunk. Of course this could also be down to the use of pigeon shit to soften the leather; no man-made substance works as well apparently. Luckily for me Joel and Emy were with me in the tannery and they decided that leather wallets would be the next round in our bartering World Cup; remember so far its Australia 0 England 1. Despite my desire for another win the wallets were good quality; the leather was the softest I have ever felt. In the end two were bought very close to original price as we were told “this is not like the markets”. After lunch we found out how unlike the markets the tannery had been.
We were all drawn to a small stall just inside the Medina walls by its owners unique calls; “scallywag” and “hooligan” were his two most memorable; thinking of what we must have looked like these did not seem offensive or even inappropriate. He turned to me and said “would you like a leather wallet?”. Remembering Joel's earlier purchase I decided that I did want a leather wallet, despite already having two with me for various currencies. “Good price, cheap as chips” he promised. I showed him the wallet Joel had bought and said that I would like one the same or similar. He showed me an identical wallet and told me it would set me back a handsome 13DH or I could have two for 25. The look on Joel's face alone was worth that price, he had paid 200DH for his, and so I pretty much bit the guy's hand off and bought two wallets to add to the two I already had. Australia 0 England 2. This was the first proper example of the horror stories from back home being true. Buying from the source you may expect to pay a cheaper price but in reality the price at the tannery had been majorly inflated due to the captive market of naive tourists. Despite this the experience was nowhere near as horrific as people had described back home.
In Ressini the ground was picked for the final of the Bartering World Cup; a traditional Berber carpet shop: the haunted house in the majority of the horror stories. As I entered I didn't know what to expect; were we to be herded into a small room, suspended by our ankles and tortured until we were parted with every last dirham we had? No, of course we weren't. The 'Blue Men' who owned the shop showed us countless carpets in various beautiful colours and explained which each was made from and what it would be used for. He assured us that we could take pictures and smoke whilst sipping on Berber whiskey (mint tea). We were asked to say if there were any carpets that we liked with no obligation to buy. I chose a beautiful carpet of camel's wool that depicted sand dunes in a vast plethora of vivid colours. I was lead into a side room and shown the different sizes and styles of the carpet I had chosen; on the other side of the wall Joel was beginning the same ordeal.
The opening price of the carpet was our starting whistle and the Final was under way. Once I had picked the size I wanted and sat down on it with the salesman he told me the asking price was 9600DH; a huge amount of money both here in Morocco and at home. I almost left there and then but decided that I would give it a go, as with the guitar I had already decided that I would buy the carpet. The salesman's technique was not aggressive or intimidating; failing to live up to my suspicions. He simply asked me to write a counter offer on a piece of paper. I warned him that he may be offended at what I was prepared to pay; I had heard that mock offence was just one of many weapons in the arsenal of these cunning extortionists. He insisted that he would not be offended and so I wrote down 1500DH; despite his promise he looked very offended and left the room. 'That's the end of that' I thought before he returned with another of the 'Blue men' who told me that the carpet I had chosen had taken six months to make and the least they would except was 8000DH; this was still too much for me; I still have 41 weeks of travelling to pay for! He asked once again for a counter offer and I wrote 2000DH he lowered his to 6000DH and insisted that he would go no further. After a few minutes of conversation; he was interested about the trip and wanted to know who I was buying the carpet for, he asked for my 'last, last' offer. I wrote down 2500DH and thought that would be the end of it; he looked down at the paper then back up to me and said 3000DH and its yours. We shock hands and the deal was done. I was happy with the price I paid for the beautiful carpet but I was slightly disappointed that the whole experience had been pleasant and strangely enjoyable.
The only downside was that Joel had secured an equally good deal and so the Bartering World Cup final ended a draw. The best aspect about these experiences is that they dispel most of the misconceptions held by people back home. Not everyone is out to take your money and rip you off. Of course, there will be some people whose main goal is to make a quick buck from foreign visitors but the majority of traders and shopkeepers seemed friendly, genuine and simply happy that you had taken the time to visit them and inspect their wares. I don't claim to be an expert by any means but if I could offer one piece of advice it would be to keep smiling and make sure you leave happy with what you have bought and the price you have paid; that or turn the whole experience into a competitive sport!
Who? Ben from the UK, always there with a helping hand, always on standby when someone needs assistance.
What? Definitely the Master Chef of the truck! A dubious past at Manchester Uni studying History, a pub landlord in Essex, a man looking for a bargain...
Where? Where someone can be ragged, where a trick can be played, where humour is as dry as the desert and as refreshing as the Ziz Oasis.
Tattoos? Yet to be acquired, yet to be revealed...
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