I still vividly remember the unfortunate experience of getting my phone stolen in Senegal. On a brisk October night, I sat in the back of a taxi with the window rolled down to let the breeze in. Before I even realized what had happened, a motorcyclist had grabbed my phone right out of my hand and sped off into the darkness. The next day, with the help of a Senegalese friend, I tracked my phone to Dakar's notorious Colobane Market and attempted (in vain) to locate it. Bristling past strangers in Colobane's shoulder-to-shoulder foot traffic, I wiped sweat from my forehead while going stall to stall in desperate pursuit. I never quite came to love Dakar's labyrinthine markets, chaotic and overwhelming as they were.

Even so, I learned the art of marchandage, or haggling, and came home with plenty of Senegal national team jerseys to prove it. Naturally, I had my game face on as we entered the Port Louis market. Expecting a sea of vendors and shoppers, I was surprised to find the market largely devoid of business. Without the endless supply of hawkers selling their wares, it was substantially harder to negotiate prices: there was simply no other choice most of the time. Even so, I managed to use the classic art of naming my price (typically a third of the seller's initial offer), then walking away upon refusal. To the vendors' chagrin, I taught a few of my classmates on the fly—in our eyes, we made out like bandits. In all likelihood, we probably paid far more for each item than the average Mauritian would have.