 |
| Off to the airport |
Taxi drivers, we have learnt, can end up revealing far more about the country you’re visiting than the country itself.
The taxi driver who took us into Phnom Penh from the airport on the first day of our Asian adventure revealed truths more shocking than we could comprehend during small talk (see “What the Taxi Driver Told Us”, 16 January.) The driver who yesterday delivered us safely from the insanity of Saigon’s streets to its airport on our final day taught us something less frightening - but curious, nonetheless.
As in January, he was in his forties, laughing as he pointed out the prettiest girls and told us about his Catholic faith. He was a Catholic, he said, because his father had been French, and served alongside the Americans defending South Vietnam. So his father had been on the losing side, and he well remembered the day the winning side, the Communists, stormed his home city and stayed put.
That was thirty-five years ago, and I’d seen very little that remotely resembled Communism in this neon country during these past two weeks. But he assured me that no, most of these furiously paced people with things to sell and places to go just wanted to get out -- and he was one of them.
It was something else for us to think about as he dropped us off at the concourse marked Departures, beaming gratefully at our $2 tip.
John
No comments:
Post a Comment