Saturday, October 3, 2009

First contact with Indian taxis…

For those who know me well, well, you all know my ‘love-hate’ relationship with taxi-drivers. You would probably remember my adventures with taxi-drivers in Ethiopia and all around Africa. You may also recall my ‘not-always-smooth’ relationship with taxi-drivers in DC and neighbor states. Time has probably come that I experienced taxi-drivers in South Asia as well…

Although I had probably preferred to postpone my first interaction with Indian taxi-drivers to a later stage of my Indian experience, destiny wanted that I had to be put to the test with them from the very first moment I touched the Indian soil. Although, in fact, I was expecting a shuttle from the hotel to pick me up, there was nobody waiting for me at the airport. Without worrying too much, I then went to one of the stalls of the taxi-companies at the airport (grazie Emanuele). Here in Delhi in fact you tell your destination and you pay your trip directly to the taxi-stall in the airport, and you are given a receipt which you bring to the taxi-driver outside the airport. The taxi-driver will then drive you to the address you have previously provided. ‘Good’ I thought ‘so I don’t have to bargain with the taxi-driver’, knowing that this is always one of the major sources of conflict. I had been in addition pre-alerted of the superior bargaining skills of the Indians, and preferred not to be tested after 20 hours of travel…

So, I approached the first taxi-driver in the parking:
- Good evening, I need to go to the Jukaso Inn, 50 Sunder Nagar…
- Ok
- Do you know where it is?
- Yes-yes… Jukaso Inn, Sunder Nagar… yes-yes…
- And how long does it take?
- Half-hour
- Ok, let’s go…

After about half-hour during which we risked our lives a couple of times, during which we discussed a bit of all the things you discuss with a taxi-driver the first time you arrive in Delhi (the subway under construction, the Commonwealth Games in 2010, the traffic, etc.), during which he tried to convince me to go to another hotel a dozen of times, Mr. Kumar (that was his name) stopped the car and asked me:
- So, where do we go?
- !!! What ‘where do we go?’ ??? I told you, Jukaso Inn! You told me you know where it was!!!
- Yes-yes (in a half-apologetic and half-offended tone), don’t get angry, I know, I know… Just let me ask…
- !!!

After Mr. Kumar confabulated for a couple of minutes with another taxi-driver, he came back to the car…
- So, you know where to go?
- Yes-yes
- So, how long does it take?
- Half-hour
- !!! What??? You told me ‘half-hour’ half-hour ago!!!
- Yes-yes, don’t get angry, you are my son… 10-15 minutes… (pause) … half-hour…

And so, half-hour later, after having risked our lives another couple of times, here I was - finally - at the Jukaso Inn, relieved to be still alive and happy by the perspective to be soon in a bed, but somehow concerned that I would need to retrieve all my African patience if I want to survive with Indian taxi-drivers as well…

3 comments:

  1. meno male che almeno parlavate la stessa lingua...

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  2. Hey. Look forward to reading your experiences. Glad you made it past the madhouse that is the Delhi airport. Soon, you will be nodding your head like an Indian, finding the local chole bature spot and zipping around town in a vespa (wait you did that here anyways)

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  3. been there. done that. you told it funnier.

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