"At the souk I barter like a pro"

boasts Celia Walden in today's ULTRATRAVEL supplement of The Telegraph about her shopping in Marrakesh.We come to these countries in our expensive shoes and clothes,[if not designer,just look at he Real Housewives of whatever and their large PRADA shoppers],flashing about more cash than the locals earn in a year and then we try to knock the price down to the bare minimum of the goods the stall holders sell,mostly made by the locals. I find this so utterly abhorrent.I remember on my first visit to the Caribbean [ I do not recall the name of the island now] I saw the most beautiful large peaches.I just had to have one.I asked the shop assistant where they came from. America. Yes,my heart jumped with joy. The fruit sold on the streets of New York two or so years earlier was fresh, delicious,utterly divine.So I took the peach, wiped it with a special wet cloth and took my first bite. And the last. I could not even stomach the atrocity called the peach.I went back to the shop and said to the lovely girl behind the counter - the peach is inedible. This is what they send us from America. We cannot afford it and even if we could, we could not eat it.The fruit is awful,she replied.