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Czech bargain hunters raid foreign stores

Photo : AFP

PRAGUE (AFP) - Thrifty Czechs have discovered a shopping paradise in western countries once far beyond their means, flooding German supermarkets and boosting business for US mail services via Internet orders.

Tired of Czech stores they see as overpriced, local shoppers are combing through foreign e-shops, flying to London to buy clothes and jamming car parks at German and Austrian supermarkets.

Even Czech beer, the pride of a nation that claims the world's highest per capita beer consumption, is cheaper across the border.

For decades, Czechs perceived Germany as an unaffordable market, but the situation has changed since the Czech koruna strengthened versus the euro -- showing in recent months its biggest swing in more than five years, now just over 26 koruna to the euro. In addition, Czech retailers have started charging what many consider exorbitant margins.

"It's cheaper here, that's for sure," said Vera Gottfriedova, a woman in her sixties, munching on a hotdog and sitting on a bench in the centre of Dresden, a German city near the northern Czech border.

The hordes of discount-chasing Czechs in Germany buy everything: washing powder, yogurt, toys and, naturally, Czech beer.

"Some German shops sell the Pilsner Urquell lager 20 to 30 percent cheaper than Czech ones. Which is sad, because it's our beer -- and it's cheaper abroad," said a Czech man in his forties outside a supermarket in Heidenau, a town adjacent to Dresden.

The store was selling a 20-bottle crate of Pilsner Urquell for 13.5 euros (19 dollars), one euro below an already reduced special Christmas offer at a large Czech-based chain.

The discrepancy has inspired enterprising Czech shoppers. Since German shops charge an eight-cent deposit on returnable bottles and 3.10 euros on a crate, some Czechs -- whose country takes over the rotating EU presidency next month -- are able to earn about 1.6 euros on each crate of German-bought beer by returning it to a Czech shop.

Half the cars parked outside the Heidenau supermarket have Czech licence plates. Some buyers even drive 160 kilometres (99 miles) from the capital Prague to shop there. Many of the Czech cars have roofracks -- even Christmas trees are cheaper in Germany.

"We sell dozens of trees to Czechs every day," said a visibly freezing salesgirl struggling to tuck a fir much taller than herself into a net sleeve for transport.

A middle-aged couple from Decin, a Czech town about 35 kilometres (22 miles) southeast of Heidenau, pushed along a shopping cart filled with chocolate, detergents and bread towards a small, dented car.

"We come here once a month, look for what is cheaper than back home, then buy it," said the man, taking a bite from a hotdog before passing it to his wife. "The supply is better, and the packages are nicer."

The Czechs have long "gone west" to shop.

After the fall of the communist regime in 1989, they raided their moneyboxes for West German marks to go on a shopping spree for clothes and electronics unavailable in then-Czechoslovakia.

Disgusted by years of empty shelves at home, they took West German shops by storm, hiring coaches to take them mostly to Passau, a popular destination near the Bavarian border.

After the initial rush, local stores started stocking increasingly affordable "western" products and enthusiasm for "foreign" shopping not only cooled down but started looking like a costly venture.

During the communist period, West Germany was out of reach for the vast majority of those living behind the Iron Curtain. Shopping-hungry Czechs had to make do with stores in East Germany, whose sparsely stocked shelves held a few more goodies than back home.

"I still wear a pair of winter shoes I bought in East Germany," said Prague pensioner Jan Patocka.

Though the neighbors were part of the same Soviet-led bloc, some imports were banned in Czechoslovakia and car searches were common at the border.

Customs officers "once threw out the car seats and even checked the toothpaste and babyfood," said the former computer programmer.

Czechs would devise schemes to "smuggle" in forbidden goods, which for Patocka and his wife involved their three young children.

"We often spread a thick layer of yogurt all over the kids' foreheads and mouths" to make officers think they'd been sick, he said. "If they cried, all the better."

Such "smuggling" is long gone, as seen with four women from the northern Czech city of Teplice who stood near Dresden's Altmarkt square on a recent Saturday, comparing high heels, handbags, clothing and other purchases.

One took a bite on a sausage sandwich she had made at home to save on food and proudly took stock of her Christmas shopping.

"So it's one scarf for Josef and one for Jara. One shirt for Jara and one for Franta. Shorts for Franta and shorts for Josef..."