I collect taxi drivers. Or at least memories of them.
I enjoy talking with them and finding out whatever I
can. Of course none can top M. Kamalt, the Algerian who used to take me from my
friend’s house in Paris to whatever train station or airport I was going to. We
had so many conversations on all topics imaginable and once even he telephoned
his sister to introduce us. He’s no longer around working another area. Sigh.
I had a driver in Berlin who sang opera to me, and one
of five Greek taxi drivers who could have auditioned for the father’s role in My Fat Greek Wedding.
The taxi waiting line at Gare du Lyon was long and it
was raining. My taxi driver this time was from the Ivory Coast and he had a
program about Burkina Faso on the radio. He had been a teacher but when he
moved to France he couldn’t transfer his credentials.
Another driver to my collection.
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1 comment:
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