Taxis

I’m getting to know the taxi cab community here in Santo Domingo pretty well. Every morning I flag someone down on the busy corner of Latacunga and Guayaquil. After I tell them that I want to go to the barrio of Carlos Ruiz Burneo, a pretty rough place, they almost always hesitate a moment and look at me briefly, as if to ask, “why would anyone want to go there, particularly an aging gringo like yourself?”

Since this has been going on for over a year now, I’m now regularly flagging down taxi drivers who I’ve had before and they greet me like an old friend. Sometimes, if they spot me walking to the market, they honk and wave, though they have yet to stop and offer me a ride. Rita came out to the clinic last week for a little birthday celebration for Mercedes and got into a little fight with the driver. He was going to charge four dollars and she complained that I only pay three, to which the taxista replied “Your husband is an amigo mio and I give him a deal.” They finally agreed to $3.50, but she had to throw in one of the brownies that she was bringing to the birthday party.

Honking is important here. It’s a friendly place and the drivers are forever tooting at someone they know on the street or in another cab. Honks can also be a declaration of intent, like “I’m coming through this impossibly small space at a rapid rate of speed despite all this chaotic traffic, so you better watch out, because if I hit you, since I was the first one to honk, it won’t be my fault.” These sound like this: beep-beep, short and in quick succession. Also there are lots of angry honks directed at anyone doing something hasty, nasty or stupid. Because this happens pretty frequently there is always a background of angry honks wherever one goes, night or day. Angry honks are louder and sound like this: Beeep. Beeeeep. For a group of people who are so warm and welcoming face to face, they are incredibly rude on the road.

The taxistas favor seat covers made up of that deep pile shag carpeting that was really popular maybe 30 years ago in the US; carpeting over the dashboard, too, for some reason, but not much in the way of personal safety protection. Seat belts are for sissies and their use is thought to reflect a lack of confidence in the driver. It took me more than a week to figure out why I was arriving at work each morning with this big swatch of dirt running from my right shoulder to my left hip. With all the pollution, dust and grime in the air, seat belts tend to get pretty dirty when not used and since I apparently was the only one in town using a seatbelt, I was getting pretty dirty. I decided in favor of clean over safe but am prepared to admit that this might not be the best decision, especially in Santo Domingo.