Why Do Tourist Markets Sell the Same Item at Five Different Prices?

Walk through certain parts of Istanbul’s Fatih district, Marrakech’s souks, or similar tourist-heavy markets around the world and you’ll notice something strange.

The same box of sweets. The same bottle of oil. The same “special crystal stone.”

Each sold at wildly different prices.

One person pays £50. Another pays £20. A local might pay £5.

At times there’s no price tag. No receipt. No fixed rate.

At first glance, it feels chaotic. Or dishonest.

In reality, it’s a system.

Price isn’t tied to the product

In most shops, price reflects cost plus margin.

In tourist markets, price reflects something else:

• how much the buyer knows

• how confident they seem

• how long they linger

• how eager they appear

• how quickly they want to leave

The product becomes secondary.

What’s being priced is uncertainty.

Someone unfamiliar with local costs is willing to pay more to avoid embarrassment, negotiation, or missing out.

Someone who knows the system pays far less.

Same item. Different information. Different price.

The bazaar isn’t a shop — it’s a conversion funnel

Many stalls aren’t designed like normal retail spaces.

They’re built like sales funnels.

First comes attraction.

Someone steps into your path. A greeting. A compliment. A free sample. A story about how special the product is.

Then comes engagement.

Questions. Demonstrations. Hospitality. Sometimes tea.

Finally comes the price.

Usually very high.

From there, bargaining begins.

The initial number isn’t meant to be accepted. It’s an anchor.

Everything after feels like a discount.

By the time a “good deal” is reached, the buyer often still overpays — but feels they’ve won.

Bargaining isn’t culture. It’s pricing infrastructure.

It’s often described as tradition.

In reality, it’s a way to:

• segment customers

• adjust for fluctuating tourist demand

• extract maximum willingness to pay

• operate without fixed pricing

Think of it as dynamic pricing done by humans instead of algorithms.

Airlines change ticket prices by the hour.

Bazaar sellers do it by reading people.

Information is the real commodity

The biggest difference between locals and tourists isn’t money.

It’s knowledge.

Locals know:

• typical prices

• which shops overcharge

• when to walk away

Tourists don’t.

That gap is where profit lives.

The market is built around monetising not knowing.

Lobbying is the marketing channel

In busy tourist areas, attention is scarce.

Shops compete not through adverts, but through people.

The person calling you over isn’t just being friendly.

They’re customer acquisition.

In some cases, they’re paid per successful sale. In others, they’re part of the shop itself.

Either way, pulling you in is the first business cost.

Once you’re inside, the sales process begins.

Why certain products dominate tourist markets

You’ll notice the same categories everywhere:

• sweets and treats

• spices and oils

• small souvenirs

• “natural remedies”

• textiles

These items work because:

• they’re hard to price-check on the spot

• they’re sensory (smell, taste, touch override logic)

• they come with stories

• they feel local and special

A menthol crystal sold as rare medicine sounds worth £40.

The same product online might cost £5.

But in the moment, in the setting, with the story — the context creates value.

The two-price economy

In many tourist cities, two markets exist side by side.

One for locals. One for visitors.

Locals shop in quieter areas at normal prices.

Tourist zones operate on extraction economics — high footfall, high turnover, high margins.

Every day brings new customers who don’t know yesterday’s prices.

Reputation resets constantly.

The upside most people ignore

It’s easy to frame this purely as exploitation.

But the system exists for reasons.

Tourism markets provide:

• jobs with low barriers to entry

• income in regions with limited formal employment

• opportunities for small entrepreneurs

Many sellers are supporting families in economies with little safety net.

Flexible pricing allows them to survive unpredictable tourist seasons.

In slow periods, prices drop.

In busy periods, they rise.

It’s crude, but adaptive.

The hidden costs to society

There are trade-offs.

When overpricing becomes extreme:

• trust erodes

• visitors feel cheated

• honest sellers struggle to compete

• cities gain reputations for scams

Some tourists avoid markets entirely after bad experiences.

The short-term gain can damage long-term demand.

Why the system survives anyway

Despite complaints, these markets keep thriving.

Because the flow of new visitors never stops.

Each plane brings people unfamiliar with local pricing.

Each day resets the customer base.

It’s a business model built on churn.

What tourist pricing really reveals

These markets aren’t broken.

They’re optimised for:

• uncertainty

• high turnover

• human psychology

They price emotions as much as products.

Urgency . Excitement. Fear of missing out. Discomfort with confrontation.

The five different prices aren’t mistakes.

They’re the system working exactly as designed.

The bigger takeaway

Next time you see wildly different prices in a bazaar, it helps to look beyond fairness.

You’re not just buying sweets or souvenirs.

You’re stepping into a marketplace where:

• information sets value

• conversation sets price

• and knowledge is the real currency

It’s messy. It’s human. It’s adaptive.

And it shows how, in many parts of the world, markets don’t run on fixed numbers.

They run on people.