Travelers are, to some degree, diplomats who willingly or unwillingly represent their country abroad. I have seen and heard my fair share of tourist misbehavior: obnoxiousness, arrogance, inappropriate clothing and penny-pinching avarice demonstrated while haggling over the price of a straw hat or ugly T-shirt.

Here are four real-life stories of tourist haggling intertwined with tips on how to avoid being an ugly tourist.

Grenada, West Indies, 1992: I am a guest speaker on one of Cunard's vessels cruising the Caribbean. We dock in St. George's, the picturesque port and capital of an island appropriately nicknamed Spice Island.

As the passengers disembark, local women peddle their wares, much of which consists of herbs, spices and bottled extracts. I observe an American tourist haggling over a bag of spices. The seller names her price, and he counteroffers half that amount. According to universal haggling rules, the peddler offers to meet the costumer halfway (75% of the asking price). It should have ended there, but the tourist turns ugly and insists on a deeper discount. The seller agrees, but her pouted mouth expresses displeasure and perhaps disgust.

The grinning, red face-tanned tourist does not realize that he fought tooth and nail over a couple of quarters with an aging black woman whose income was probably 1% of his — two more quarters to feed the ship's slot machines. "Would you like something to drink, sir?" "Yes, a pina colada." "It will be $15 (plus tip)."

Merida, Yucatan, 1992: The city is hosting a Caribbean studies conference. Two anthropologists, experts on Belize, and a Cuban historian walk into a restaurant. (No, this is not a joke.) We are having margaritas and appetizers and, suddenly, a hammock peddler swings by our table. He shows his wares with pride and talks anthropologist No. 1 into buying a hammock for $40. Twenty minutes later, the vendor comes back, and after some low-intensity haggling, anthropologist No. 2 buys one for $30.

I am the only potential costumer left, and the hammock man is going for the trifecta . I offer $20; he agrees. We exchange smiles and winks. My anthropologist friends, especially No. 1, are not amused. There is no such thing as a free meal or a free lesson in ethnography.

Morocco, somewhere between the Spanish autonomous city Ceuta and Tangier, 2010: I am doing archival research in Spain and take a weekend to visit Morocco. The tour takes us to a crafts market. It is described to us as a villagers' cooperative enterprise. On the market rooftop, a middle-aged, tunicked man approaches me and asks where I am from. Cuba, I say, and without pause, he retorts, "I have a brother who lives there."

He invites me to the building basement to see a variety of woven goods. They offer me tea, and then we haggle a bit over some sashes and bed covers. I know that I could continue negotiating but pay close to the asking price; the textiles are beautiful, and it is a bargain — definitely a win-win.

I return to the rooftop to rejoin my tour, where I overhear the man with a brother in Cuba. "Where are you from?" he asks another tourist. "Oh, I have a brother who lives there." We are not in a cooperative villagers' market after all.

Beijing, 2010: I am part of a delegation of educators visiting China. All of us, at one point or another, go to the city's famous Silk Market and snake the sinuous interior of the seven-level mall. Name it and you can find it there: pearl earrings and necklaces; Folex watches; fake designer eyewear; and an immense variety of products, from edible roasted scorpions to copies of Mao's Red Book — I get one for myself — and, of course, silk products.

My belt had come undone, and I need a new one. I approach a young woman next to a rack of leather belts. I don't know what possesses me; I get carried away with the haggling and realize that the young vendor's smile vanished from her face.

Realizing what I have done, I immediately try to redeem myself, purchasing the belt at the original asking price. The smile returns to her face, and I still get the belt at a fraction of what I would pay in the United States. She even offers to fix my old broken belt.

"Losing" a negotiation can be a victory. On-site anthropology lessons should not be free. Every tourist is a diplomat, to some degree.

Readers can reach Luis Martinez-Fernandez at [email protected]. To find out more about Luis Martinez-Fernandez and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.

Photo credit: Free-Photos at Pixabay