A Budget Traveler’s Lament

By Jane Roper

Twelve Bolivianos,” the girl told the gringos. “No, no, no! Ten Bolivianos!” The American woman turned to me, shaking her head. “We talked to the owner yesterday, and he told us he’d rent us the room at a discount, 10 per person. Can you explain that to her?”

I reluctantly translated. The girl had lived on Isla del Sol, an island on the Bolivian side of Lake Titicaca, all her life, and like all of the indigenous inhabitants, her first language was Aymara, not Spanish. She told me the price for a room was always 12, and that the owner, who had gone to La Paz for the weekend, hadn’t said anything about renting it for less. “If I collect less than 12,” she said, her eyes starting to fill, “he’ll say I stole the money.”

I explained the situation to the travelers: it was too bad, but she seemed sincere; they should probably just forget it and pay the full price.

“She’s lying,” said one of them, a Dutch man in his twenties.

“Tell her we’re going to write to Lonely Planet and tell people not to come here,” said the American woman. And, pointing a finger at the girl, “Muy muy malo esto hotel!” “This is such bullshit,” said the third, an Australian man. “I’m not paying.”

At that point, I excused myself from translation duties. When I returned several minutes later, the dispute over the two Bolivianos was still going strong. Two Bolivianos, at that time, was roughly equivalent to 40 cents.

At times like that, I am ashamed of the subculture I am a part of: privileged, educated adults traipsing around the developing world with a backpack and a budget. We fancy ourselves students of life, living on a shoestring while we expand our minds. We believe--and maybe we’re right--that our experiences are more genuine than those of the common tourists, with their air-conditioned motor coaches and prepackaged tours. But the fact remains that even we, the humblest of budget travelers--crowding onto rickety buses, eating lunch at market stalls, sleeping in dingy, bare-bulb hotels--usually have more cash in our moneybelts than many locals will see in a year, a fact that too many of us forget in our zeal to travel cheap and “down to earth.”

When I was in South America last spring ugly disputes like the battle over the two Bolivianos were as common as Coca Cola: three budget travelers against one girl who will probably never leave the island where she was born but whose daily life centers around hosting a steady stream of well-dressed, well-equipped foreigners--many her own age--with the means and the freedom to see the world, people who will eventually go back to their countries and resume lives of opportunity and comfort she can barely imagine. Should she care whether they’re on a budget or not?

Granted, compared to many in our home countries we may not have a whole lot of money, and we try to get the most from it. None of us wants to be taken advantage of, so we stay on our guard. As any experienced traveler knows, swindlers, thieves, and generally dishonest people are glad to rip off unsuspecting foreigners.

And as every traveler also knows, it’s exhausting to stay on your toes all the time, trying to distinguish between hucksters and honest folk. It’s simpler to assume that everyone is trying to get the better of you and act accordingly.

But that’s the easy way out. It’s part of our responsibility as travelers to use our judgment, not our prejudices, to decide if we’re being taken for a ride. Inevitably, we’ll sometimes judge incorrectly and overpay. In that case it’s our job to get over it and move on.

Yet perhaps a more deep-rooted cause for travelers’ money conflicts is the widely-held misconception that the developing world is there for the taking: it’s natural and unspoiled, peopled by friendly folk in colorful clothing who are delighted to welcome Western travelers and share their culture with them. This rosy notion leads to bitterness and obnoxious behavior when we come up against the reality that we’re not actually guests of honor in the fields of the Lord. Primarily, we’re customers.

Perhaps every budget traveler, at one time or another, has been guilty of focusing so hard on pinching pennies and not getting ripped off that we forgot to consider just how wealthy we look to the people we meet--how wealthy, in fact, we are. Not even the grubbiest Birkenstocks or the most threadbare backpack can hide it. The fact that we’re traveling is proof enough.

So to all budget travelers I say, go ahead and bargain. Look for good deals. Try to do what the locals do. And, by all means, don’t go around getting ripped off for the sake of charity. But try not to be so tight-fisted that you spend more time haggling than appreciating. Because at the end of your trip, no matter what, you’re the one who comes out ahead.

JANE ROPER is an advertising copywriter and travels whenever she gets the chance. She writes from Somerville, MA.