Getting around!

"Where are you from?"

"India"

"Wallah!! Speak good English?"

"Yes."

"(something in Arabic)"

Le me speechless!

This is how my mornings usually start here in Beirut, where I am compelled to take a "service"; a.k.a taxi in simple terms; to go to the office. I had kind of liked the use of word "service" in this context as you "take a service" from the taxi drivers and pay back for their wonderful (?) door-to-door service! However, this whole business of "taking a service" isn't that simple and can be a source of (unwanted) adventures that one could possibly ask for at 6.45 in the morning!

After two weeks in Beirut, I think I have got the hang of the place and I am getting accustomed to this different mode de la vie, except for the interesting modes of transport!

Beirut is a city of cars par excellence. If one day all cars disappear from the streets of Beirut, I am sure the city will come to a stand-still and the roads will breathe a sigh of relief! Initially, the huge four-lane roads, flyovers, fancy cars, spectacular highways etc. might impress you a lot. The moment I landed here, I was in awe of this awesome, very-first-worldish infrastructure. However, now as I am roaming the streets with my observant glasses, I can see that that first impression was indeed not the last one.

Though Beirut may resemble a high-fi-modern city, getting around here is not easy. Pedestrians are invisible to the rash drivers and there are hardly any proper crossings. The footpaths are in good condition, however, are occupied by cars (yes, cars!) leaving very little space for walking. They beat us dear Punekars in their amazing skills of double, and at times triple parking!!

The 'public transport' mostly exists on paper! There are some buses, but their appearance is so discrete and gels so well with hundreds of other vehicles on the road, that it's just impossible to identify them! At times, there are these mini-vans which trot around the city collecting and dropping passengers. But again they are not the easiest to identify. They can be blue at times, red at times and sometimes even white! The only way to recognize them is their more or less similar size, the red nameplate, and the honking. They honk at you the moment they see you walking on the streets. It's their way of asking you whether you want to their service!! Same applies to the taxis also. They are omnipresent. But I have been advised that the mini-vans are more reliable than the taxis and now I know why!

Two days ago, after finishing my first leg of two-tour-journey-to-office I was waiting for the next 'service'. Three-four comfortable looking taxis went by. I should mention here that every time I am on the road, I brace myself for all the unimagined challenges that may pop-up at any moment and anywhere. I was doing the same when I hauled for the next taxi coming my way. An outdated model of a car, with paint peeling off from everywhere and with seats giving away their age thanks to the yellow foam coming out from every corner, stopped in front of me. Its old master, who himself resembled his car, with only 2-3 teeth with a perfect shade of "ombre", a torn bonnet and an equally torn brown sweater asked me, "wein? (where?)". 'Ganapati Bappa Morya', I said in my mind and got into the taxi. The ritual of introduction started and his second question threw me off!

"Working as a maid"?

"What?! No! I work at the UN"! (I couldn't digest that 'offense' and insisted on that last sentence with much pride!)

"Oh, good education?!"

"Yes."

Actually, it wasn't his fault that he thought that I might be a maid as almost all Indian-Bangladeshi-Philippino women here usually work as maids. He demonstrated his love for India and flaunted his 'Hindi'. I must say I was impressed that he could speak such good Hindi. Good for him!

We reached a junction where we were supposed to go straight, but he turned right... Unknown city, unknown language, unknown roads and no 3G - I was alarmed immediately. When asked why he turned right, he threw an angry look at me from the rear mirror and yelled at me saying he was the driver and I shouldn't be telling him which road to take!! Now, you can imagine how freaked out I must have been after hearing that. Was he going to take me to the destination where he thought was appropriate for me?

My skin prickled with some unpleasant emotion. I had the immediate urge to get out of the taxi but it was obviously not possible. This man, whose aunt was apparently in a very high position in UNRWA and who knew I wanted to go there as we were discussing UNRWA and its work for the past ten minutes, suddenly started blaming me that it was my fault that I hadn't mentioned where exactly I wanted to go. I was so freaked out and angry that I literally yelled back at him. But the threatening look and a streak of madness in his eyes silenced me and I let him blabber about how it was my fault till we reached a familiar locality. He eventually dropped me a few blocks away from my office. And of course, he charged me extra!

It took me good ten minutes to recover from this ride and I was grateful that nothing had happened. Yet, I was shocked to the core just by thinking what could have gone wrong, especially in the background of the recent Delhi rape case.

It was by far one of the most disturbing mornings I have ever had! I am hoping that somehow I will be spared from these taxing taxi rides!

Inshallah!