Stop Haggling on Vacation Its Unethical and Tacky

Guidebooks advise us to haggle down prices while abroad, but is that ethical?

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A woman gloats: “I got this for $5,” while waving an ornate jewelry box in my face. “That guy asked for $20, and I beat him down!” Our air-conditioned bus moves on as we wheel away from the stall owner, hunched in the dirt. “I think I’m getting the hang of haggling!” she says, stuffing her ill-gotten treasure into her $250 leather backpack.

Haggling is often romanticized as a form of cultural immersion. It’s a lot more palatable to think about it as engaging in authentic local customs, rather than exploiting another country’s artisans. I’ve heard many a seasoned traveler brag about their haggling “skills,” and I’m always in awe at the total lack of self-awareness that seems to accompany it.

I’m not disputing that haggling is indeed a common practice in many countries. I’m saying that, for a wealthy traveler from a first-world country with disproportionate exchange rates in your favor, the cultural mainstay of haggling is not intended for you. I doubt there’s a shopkeeper out there who will find it “disrespectful” that you didn’t haggle when you are a tourist in their country. Haggling may be customary in the country you’re touring, but that doesn’t mean it’s a custom for you. You’re not a local. And, as a tourist, you shouldn’t be paying local rates.

No one wants to be ripped off. But when you can afford international flights, a plush hotel, car rental, and a tour guide, the ethical considerations of haggling with a merchant over the price of a curio should take priority. You are on vacation, whereas the stall you’re browsing is their livelihood.

I hail from South Africa, where 23.2 million people live below R1300 ($80 USD) per month. The minimum wage in my country will increase to R30.23 per hour on March 1, 2026. That’s less than $2 USD per hour. I am immensely privileged to have the opportunity to travel, and I try, where I can, to use that privilege for good. For me, that means paying the asking price, no matter where in the world I am—every single time.

So, when I found myself in Morocco, ambling through the souks that glittered with golden lamps and rich bolts of fabric, I paid the first figure requested without question. If I couldn’t afford the item, I politely declined and walked away, just as I would back home. I don’t haggle over my electricity bill or over the price of a restaurant check. The price is the price, and if I can’t afford it, then I don’t buy it.

I enjoyed watching the playful back-and-forth banter between Moroccans as they haggled, but I never once thought their practice was one I should try to emulate. There’s no shortage of travel advice out there saying the first asking price is always deliberately too high and you’re being taken for a ride. It may well be true, but if the first price is within your budget for the item you’re eyeing, I think you should pay what they’re asking for.

Back home, in South Africa, I hear tourists trying to beat down the cost of beaded jewelry or carved bowls at roadside markets every single day. It’s only natural to feel petulant about paying $10 for a beaded bookmark when you think you could have scored it for $2, but your purchase is optional. For vendors, it’s rent, food, and school fees. The few dollars you might “win” in the haggle would be better spent uplifting the community you’re visiting. If you win the haggle, someone else is losing.

Sustainability and travel are a hot topic. It’s not a novel concept that we should be mindful of where we go and how we behave when we visit. Fodor’s No List is one such example where a little more consideration can go a long way to prevent overtourism or environmental damage. We talk about the importance of ethical tourism and of supporting local communities, ensuring our money goes into the pockets of the people who call these places home. And I’d argue there isn’t much of a point in congratulating yourself for opting for a family-owned boutique hotel instead of a big chain if you’re going to deliberately try to shortchange every artisan you interact with, all because “haggling is a local custom.”

Yes, you may be overcharged. And maybe they’re doing a little dance as soon as you round the corner. But if you’re still happy with your purchase and the shop-owner is delighted with the sale, where is the harm?

In Fez, I saw a beautiful gold lantern that I immediately craved for my dining room table. The etched side panels were set with stained glass, and the interior was the perfect size for a tea light candle. I wanted something that would remind me of my trip. The lantern wasn’t cheap (I mostly earn in South African rands, and they don’t stretch very far), but in all honesty, I don’t remember what I was charged for it.

Instead, I remember the care with which the shop owner packaged it, securing it in bubble wrap so it would survive luggage handlers in the airport, and his smile as he waved me off. I remember the honeyed, sticky pastry that I ate shortly after, squeezing through the narrow alleys of the medina back to our riad, getting lost twice, and meeting three cats along the way.

I wonder what that woman who bought the jewelry box at the side of the road remembers when she rummages around her earring selection, choosing her adornments for the day. I wonder if she remembers anything about it at all.