Pay As You Go: India

Written for The Sunday Telegraph, Dec 2004

Gone are the days when a working holiday had to consist of fruit picking, travel repping or timeshare touting for long hours, low wages and sleazy bosses. Forget about visa pickles or working illegally for cash in hand. These days, with web-spots all over the globe, online banking and easy ways to send money and parcels abroad, ebay is the perfect solution for pay-as-you-go travellers. Today’s jetset entrepreneurs could bring a whole new meaning to the mobile office (says Niki McMorrough).

Every day, 125million registered ebayers from 31 countries buy, sell and post anything and everything to anyone, anywhere. It’s no wonder that the popularity of ebay is on the up. With digital and phone cameras aplenty, any techo-phobe can upload auction photos and descriptions, and become a seller. When the winning bidder has forked out using the wonders of modern money technology, they receive their parcel by post, and it’s a done deal.

According to ebay, over 10,000 people in the UK are making all or most of their living by selling on ebay. They can’t all be rocket scientists, so I decided to give it a whirl. I started by auctioning the overflowing contents of my cupboards - bric-a-brac you would punt in a boot sale for 50p. I had quickly cleared out 150 items and raked in 1500GBP. Most surprisingly, a spare computer cable fetched 50GBP, and an old flute from my schooldays found a new home in New Zealand for 150GBP. My easily won profits got me thinking, if my parcels were going to be so well travelled, then why couldn’t I?

It’s a simple philosophy. I could buy goods in their country of origin and sell them to people all around the world for a profit. My UK living expenses could be cut ten-fold in countries like India, and be counted as reasonable business expenses in my tax return. I’d have to pay VAT on the ebay fees and services, but if I remained out of the UK for a full tax year, I’d get tax benefits. I shouldn’t need a work visa, because I would only purchase goods in India, and the sales transaction officially happens in the UK because it’s on ebay.co.uk. I could make the most of currency fluctuations by spending time in countries where sterling is strong, whilst enjoying the travel buzz of far-flung shores. Of course, there’s the risk that I’ll lose everything and be stranded. There will be baffling customs (both cultural and import related), foreign infrastructures and unreliable postal services, but I couldn’t be deterred, and used my beginner’s profits to hop on a plane.

It was easier said than done. My first wake-up call was Asia's largest, most chaotic and polluted maze of a market, Chandni Chowk in Delhi. I choked my way through clouds of chilli-dust and poisonous rickshaw pollution. I ploughed through cows contemplatively jamming up the streets, and waded through the knee-deep sea of chickpea coloured dust that is Old Delhi - a speeding citadel. Through the spitting and stench, I could see mountains of kitchenware, fabric and spice, but groping beggars and catacalling con-men kept my eyes straight ahead and my purse firmly wedged in my pocket. I collapsed into the nearby Red Fort and resolved to toughen up - or give up - sharpish.I persevered. In Diruya Ganj Road, crammed with musical instruments, I bagged a Sitar for 40GBP. N-Block Market is dominated by 'Fab India', the upmarket textiles store, where I picked up white waffle fabric for 1.50GBP per metre, as used by The White Company. At the shops and stalls of South Extension, I invested in cheap Levis and Lacoste. Lajpat Nagar, a 'Patpong' style grid of shops and stalls selling trimmings, fabric and accessories gave me big, beaded, curtain tassles for 50p that would blend in comfortably at Colefax and Fowler.

With 100GBP down, I hopped into a 3-wheeled death-machine and screeched off to a cyber-dungeon to stock up my online ebay shop. But there was a technical hitch. The reason that Indian internet browsing only costs 20 rupees per hour is that it is excruciatingly snail-paced, and there's fat chance of anyone ever using it constructively. "That's that," I thought, as my new career veered off the cyber-highway and into the dusty verge. Eventually, whilst browsing "The Hindu" newspaper for a cheap flight home, I discovered ads for Iway and Reliance - India's new hi-speed browsing and gaming chains. These being more plentiful in the South, I resolved to head towards Bangalore, India’s tech-mecca, eventually.

After being electrocuted by my USB 2.0 cable, the Hindi-speaking manager regretted that my camera could not be plugged in, but kindly offered to assist in the transferring of my photos onto ebay. It was just my luck that the dhobi-wallah was washing all my 'appropriate' clothing, on the day I ended up cringing in front of an all-boy tech-class, signing autographs on schoolbooks while the professor demonstrated picture downloading. At least my listings were up for auction, and the ball was rolling, but I could foresee trouble the next time I needed a professor and couldn’t find one. Thanking the class, I fumbled my way to the door in darkness as the power went out for the second time that day. How does anybody ever learn anything around here?

In an attempt to outsmart the cable mafia, I tried using my camera phone to email product photos to myself wirelessly, but my Delhi-bought ‘Hutch’ SIM stopped working as soon as I left the area because nobody informed me I needed to activate ‘roaming’ to move between states. Writing this off as a beginner’s blunder, I bought a ‘Reliance’ one, for the nationwide reception. When the credits ran out, I was stumped again. It could only be recharged using the special activation code that the store attendant had neglected to give me. Or I could go back to the store it was purchased from. Or set up an ICICI bank account and re-charge it through their ATM. This was beginning to look like a world of pain best avoided.

One week and eight hundred arid kilometres later in Rajasthan, my ebay shop broke even. Most of the payments had arrived through paypal within hours - only one customer insisted on sending a postal order to my mum in Lancashire. It came as no surprise that the branded items with high international recognition, like levi’s and lacoste, sold for a tidy profit, but the crafty, ethnic oddities like cushion covers and beaded bedcovers whipped up little more than a passing glance from bidders. The rare and sought-after Sitar made the loudest ‘ker-ching’, but it was fragile and a fiddle to wrap.

I was becoming increasingly concerned about my dwindling funds, and the added pressure of despatching the items I’ve sold to my customers in Poland, France, UK and Australia, when I discovered the pain of ‘popping' things in the post in India. On my first attempt, "It’s a holy day. Please be coming back tomorrow, ma'am". Next, there are lunch hours and language barriers to contend with. So I balance my bagfuls back into the rickshaw and we career at full speed down the wrong side of a dual carriageway, and round the wrong side of a roundabout, and very nearly up the wrong end of a cow. The driver merrily squeezes his comedy circus horn, a large foam ball attached to a golden trumpet, all the way.Incidentally, cows are the bin-men of India. Litter is thrown straight into the street where it is left for the free-roaming cloven ones to feast upon. Cardboard, paper and food waste are gobbled up and digested into neat piles of dung, which are collected, dried, and used as fuel for roasting ‘roti’.

India Post insists that parcels are packaged in a bizarre way. The post office parcel-wallah first wraps them in soggy cow-dung cardboard scavenged from the street, then hand-stitches them into white linen for around 30p. The address is written in fabric ink, and the customs slip sewn on by hand. This is all very quaint, but I have a train to catch to Mumbai, and I haven't even joined the queue for weighing and paying yet. I politely enquire whether I can jump it, and within seconds I am holding a receipt, my parcel-burden literally lifted. Inexplicably, women can jump all sorts of queues in India, and are frequently found elbowing their way to the front at train stations, cinemas and cricket matches.

Through the wide-open door of my pootling sleeper train I watch the amber sun climb. Vast expanses of banana groves and sugar-cane are peppered with coloured spots of silk – women toiling in their twinkling saris. It dawns on me that I need make 10GBP per day to survive. This means selling a couple of items per day, leaving a 15% margin to cover overheads like ebay and paypal fees and VAT. Arriving in Mumbai, a cosmopolitan city with pavements and dustbins, I opt for stress-free shopping at the 'Cottage Industries Emporium', a Government owned, fair-price dept store chain that can be found in every major city in India. I buy tea for 50p, cushion covers and linen tableware for 2GBP. I may pay up to 50% more than I would at a market, but it’s enjoyable, hassle-free, air-conditioned and pre-selected. Unfortunately, nobody wants to buy any of it.In Bangalore and Kanchipuram, India's silk capitals, I am fed up of messing around. I turn hardcore and telephone ahead to book meetings with manufacturers. They are keen to impress - driving me around, plying me with home-grown vanilla-scented coffee and spicy masala-chai. Sitting cross-legged on a spotless square floor-mattress, scrutinizing samples and crunching on Indian executive biscuits, is a far cry from market mayhem. Plus, the prices are improved. I buy plain silk, silk sari's and silk chiffon for 1-2GBP per metre (I know it’s UK value is more like 40GBP), and ribbons, trimmings, bobbles and bells by the roll for pennies. It all sells for ten times the price, and with beautiful broadband, listing them is ten times quicker, too. If I had a laptop, I’d even be able to plonk myself outside one of Bangalore’s flagship ‘Barista’ coffee shops and wi-fi my way for free all day in the glorious sun.

My confidence has blossomed and I am tempted to try selling bigger, classically Indian items like the Ambassador car or Enfield Motorcycle, Marble & tiles from Rajasthan and Rosewood furniture from Bangalore, but first I need a holiday. Whilst relaxing into a massage at an Ayurvedic retreat, I consider my options.I doubt India is the best place for ebay entrepreneuring - their low-margin goods are better in bulk exports, and the world prefers recognised brands like Gucci and Prada, than village crafts with no guarantee. Careering around India, I've had my ups, downs and dead-ends. I might have found ebaying a doddle at home, but simple things like internet connections and the postal service occupy a whole new plane of frustration here, where the technology we take for granted at home is merely budding.
I’ve spent about 600gbp over 60 days, and worked an average of 2 days per week. I’ve just about managed to pay my way, and I’m getting the hang it. There is of course a limit to the load I can lug around with me, so perhaps I need to be more careful, only buying things I know I can sell, and sticking around in a place long enough to list and fulfil them. I could do with a wireless pocket pc as I am not fond of electric shock therapy in internet cafes, so I’ll pick one up at my next stop, Singapore (where the exchange rate is at an all time low), along with a couple of laptops, one for me and one to sell. The best pay-as-you-go destinations have got to combine low living costs with high potential for finding valuable items, so the factories emerging in China, Vietnam and Cambodia also sound like a good bet. I don’t need to be rich, but as long as I continue to break even, this is a lifestyle that beats being in the office every Monday at 9am.

Niki’s ebay store is: www.stores.ebay.co.uk/worldwide-marketplace


Way to Go:
- To find Indian product manufacturers, search www.google.co.in, lookup contact details on www.indiandata.com / www.indiareference.com or just use Indian Yellow Pages. You can also try subscribing to http://www.trade-india.com/, the indian manufacturer directory.
- For online postal information www.indiapost.org / www.fedex.com [select india]. Registered international post takes up to 30 days. Speed post can get your parcel there in 8 days.
- To locate an iway go to http://www.iway.com/ and use the iway locator (bottom left). Reliance Webworld can be located here: http://www.firstandsecond.com/ril/locator
- If you go mobile, get the activation pin and switch on roaming before you leave town

What to Sell:
- Supply existing demand. Watch ebay before you buy, to see what price similar items sell for. You can save yourself money and useless baggage lugging in the long run.
- Be brave. It’s easier to sell a few items for a big profit, as listing and posting can sometimes take all day.
- Be practical. You may have to carry it around, and you will have to send it in the post.
- Be legal. UK customs info http://www.hmce.gov.uk

How to get paid:
http://www.westernunion.co.uk/info/faqMT.asp?country=GB up to 500GBP in 30day period
www.paypal.co.uk charges seller approx 3.5% of final item value
www.bidpay.com no charge to seller
Bank transfer (tell the buyer your account number and sort code)
Postal orders, personal cheque

Where to Go:
Keep your living expenses down, and there will be less pressure to cover them
Try to plan your trip so that you return to a place after 2 weeks. You can list the item, wait till it sells, and then return to purchase it and post it.
Budget guest houses cost between 2-10GBP and can be found almost anywhere through http://www.lonelyplanet.com/
Book your trains as far in advance as possible especially during peak season. www.irctc.co.in (for credit card bookings), www.seat61.com (for general info), www.indianrail.gov.in (official indian railways website)

When to Go:
Be away from March to May (covers a whole tax year) and claim tax benefits
Key holiday periods (Xmas, Mothers Day) tend to yield more competitive buyers