Sometimes you have to cry a little.

I originally wrote this article for Merida Insider , but I thought I would share it here too.

I have heard ex-pats talk about how they hate to haggle. But I think its part of the social fabric of living here.When I asked my Yucatecan neighbor how to do it, what she told me is “in Mérida sometimes you have to cry a little to get the best price”. That left me dissatisfied as an answer, until the day the tierra man stopped his rickety cart in front of our neighborhood tienda while I was inside. We knew something unusual was happening since he was walking instead of riding perched on top of the white sacks of dirt. He looked in and announced that his horse was going lame and he was willing to let the sacks of dirt go cheap. I was unsure what to do, Don Ernesto, the store owner asked me “Do you want some soil for your garden?” I nodded my head yes. So, this little 70 year old man, a master of negotiation gave me a lesson on bargaining.

Stepping out into the street, he asked the price, the salesman replied “30 pesos each.”

“Hmm,” intoned Don Ernesto in a serious voice, “that’s a lot”.

The salesman stated in an equally grave tone “Its good dirt, just look at it, I’ll take 20 pesos each.”

To which Don Ernesto countered, “How about 50 pesos for 3 sacks?”

The wiry little tierra man quickly agreed. Everyone smiled, I paid for the sacks of garden soil and the little pony pulling the cart went on with the tierra man walking beside, searching for the next customer to lighten their load.

Our house became a stop on the orange man’s route; my good friend sent him over and sternly warned me not to pay more than 30 pesos for a hundred oranges. The orange man is a friendly happy man, a typical Yucatecan if there ever was one. So every 15 days, since 2 weeks have 15 days here in Mérida, I would buy 100 oranges.

Then one day, he brought a watermelon along on his route, balancing it on the handlebars of his push cart.

“Look at this watermelon,” he proudly proclaimed,” I’ll let you have it for just 30 pesos, it must weigh 10 kilos.”

“30 pesos, watermelons cost 2 pesos a kilo at Chedraui!” I responded without thinking about what I was doing.

The game began, “But, Señora,” he stated in a reasonable manner “you don’t have to start the car and drive to Chedraui to buy the watermelon, I am bringing it to your door”.

Automatically, I came back with “Do I look like the sort of person who would drive all the way to the super to just buy a watermelon? I am willing to pay 25 pesos though.”

He smiled, clearly enjoying himself and agreed saying “Okay then, 25 pesos, if you buy 100 oranges too.” Little did I know that I would be receiving bargaining lessons from the orange man from then on.

One day, he announced that the price of oranges had gone up to 50 pesos a hundred.“How did that happen?” I inquired.

To which he solemnly assured me, “Honestly, the price of oranges has gone up”.

Well, I needed oranges but we weren’t eating and juicing as many, so I asked him how much for 50 oranges?

“50 oranges are going to cost 40 pesos” was the answer as he started bagging oranges, assuming the close, as they say in retail.

“My husband will be upset with me if I pay 10 pesos more for half as many oranges” I declared, shamelessly using my innocent husband as an excuse.

The orange vendor laughed and explained while continuing to fill the now bulging orange sack “Oh, Señora, you are killing me, I can’t give you the same discount if you buy less oranges, what do you think of 35 pesos?”

I looked at all those oranges and sighed “I just don’t know how I can tell my husband I paid that much, how about 30 pesos?” The orange vendor just grinned, tied up the sack and held out his hand for the 30 pesos.

A bargainer was born.