In discussing the ‘local price,’ I’m not talking about
getting ripped off or scammed here. I’m talking about fellow tourists always
wanting to make sure 100% that they’re paying the same fare as the Sumatran
sitting next to them on a bus; forked over the identical amount to enter a
regional park; even got the standard rate for a ride on a Malukan becak, an
Indonesian three-wheeled bicycle-rickshaw. It’s the allure of the local price
and if you make it your goal to always try and get it, you’ll probably drive
yourself bonkers. Or at least turn into some bitter, paranoid tourist who’s
always worried about getting swindled. And the worst part is, you pulled all
your hair out and had a hissy fit over a couple of bucks.
Now, Alli and I are no expert travelers, we’ve been to a few
places in Malaysia and a few more in Indonesia. We’ve also been to Singapore,
but the local price there doesn’t matter cause everything’s expensive compared
to their two neighbors I mentioned above. For this post I’m discussing
Indonesia where to keep things simple, mostly everything can be negotiated and
is not fixed, while in Malaysia it’s much different. Talk to travelers in
Indonesia and they always want to know how much you paid for the bus to get
here, for your room, to get into the national park, for a kilo or two of
mangoes or rambutans, or god knows what else. A few times on Pulau Flores, the main
gateway to Komodo, I was asked if we had gone to see the dragons. “Why yes we have” I’d enthusiastically
reply. “How much was it” was usually their next question? I’d
immediately think: are you serious? I was just on an island containing
the largest lizard on earth, which can kill prey 10 times its size and easily
ambush and digest myself, and you’re inquiring about the cost? I should have
answered: “Priceless.”
The other problem with it is that since we are tourists we
are equated with having boatloads of money. It doesn’t matter if I was a brain
surgeon at the University of Arizona living in the Catalina Foothills, or a
field grunt tracking down Gila monsters and renting an apartment. To the casual
observer I’m rich, no matter what my profession and tax bracket say back in the
U.S. Whether Americans are better off besides monetarily is another socio-cultural question for another time, remember Biggie's mantra: mo' money, mo' problems. Parts of Indonesia are very economically poor: no reliable electricity or any at all,
no clean drinking water, no adequate sanitation, and no waste disposal. A lot
of people live on $2-3 USD per day. A friendly stranger that strikes up a
conversation with me and learns that I quit my job and don’t have one to go
back to so I could come out to their country to gawk at lizards, scuba dive,
sweat up a volcano and stare at colorful birds might think I’m weird, on my
honeymoon, or maybe even a missionary. But regardless of all that, I’ve got dough.
Indonesia bemo in Kota Ambon. These are mini-buses and are everywhere in Indonesia, always going someplace. Some are much more elaborately decorated than this one, especially in Sumatra. |
The real part about the local price that pisses me off is
how cheap everything is out here already. At our hotel last month in Kota Ambon a
fellow tourist was grumbling about how he paid $7,000 Indonesian Rupiah for a
bus ride when he knew the local going rate was 5,000. This might sound like a
lot until you realize $7,000 Rp is $0.70 US. Yup, 70 cents. He lost a total of
20 cents. I wish Justin Timberlake could have told him to cry a river. You hear
it everywhere: this bus cost $5 more than it should have, or the ojek ride
should have been a dollar or two less. People try to haggle costs down a lot,
same goes for hotel rooms, too. I find all this exhausting and utterly boring.
We’re in a country that’s comprised of 18,000+ islands,
every religion under the sun, some truly exquisite flora and fauna, the
tastiest satay I’ve ever had, and you wanna jibba-jabba about price
differences. Come on. Enjoy yourself. Part of the reason we’re here is to boost
local economies, not strong arm people. I also have a bone to pick with folks
that get a high off haggling down the ojek or bus drivers, or guilt tripping
the hotel into giving them a discount because they’re staying multiple days.
Ease up. Its one thing to haggle for those bootleg headphones in the market,
but beating down an ojek driver to accept a dollar less is unnecessary. Every
traveler needs to be aware of what certain prices are so they don’t get scammed
or totally taken, but thinking every Indonesian is out to wring you of Rupiah is
just sad. These people need to make a living and copping a condescending
attitude cause you are some ‘important’ tourist doesn’t give you a cool story
to tell or make me envious of your penny-pinching skills. I’d say it makes you an
ass clown.
Taking the boat back to Bandaneira from Pulau Ai. It was a banana cargo morning. |
I’ve came to this conclusion about the local price, and now
I’ve gone on this rant (isn’t that what blogs are for though?), because I used
to be knee-deep in the allure. I had to get the local price. I was on a mission
to not get ripped off. At least that’s what I told myself. Then when Alli and I
visited Sumatra last September I had a little episode. We found out after
arriving in Harau Valley that our ride out should have been $20-30,000 Rp less
than what it was. I was furious. I was embarrassed in front of the jolly
homestay worker. I got mad at Alli because we let the driver dupe us. We got in
a silly argument. I huffed and puffed sitting on our front porch, with rice
paddies in the foreground and a misty, long waterfall coming off a vertical
rock face behind me.
Getting worked up in this place? Now that was just silly. |
Alli ignored me for awhile. I thought about it. We lost $2
or 3 USD. Two or three bucks! I’ve wasted thirty times that in Bookmans in less
than an hour (one doesn’t need Stephen Still’s entire catalogue on vinyl). I
was in Sumatra’s version of Yosemite Valley, surrounded by waterfalls, rice
paddies and lily ponds with calling frogs. I was mad over an amount that
couldn’t even get Alli and me a Sonoran hot dog each in Tucson. I calmed down.
I relaxed. I let go. Later on the local fried chicken and rice with peanut
sauce went splendidly well with the scenery. The late lunch for the both of us
ran $4 USD. Was that the local price? I don’t know. I never asked.
I love this post! Miss you guys a crap-ton!
ReplyDeleteTara! We miss you too. Glad you dug the post, cause I had fun ranting on and writing it. Hope all is well with your stateside.
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