taxi

Now when I think of a taxi, three questions come to mind, 


1.  How funky is this theme tune?

2.  How is it that people in Albert square can afford to get a black cab from the east end of London to Heathrow?


3. And finally, why can´t all movies be as good as this?

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So why all this talk of taxis?  Well until I came to South America I hadn´t used any at all, but as part of my ¨safety first¨ approach to this continent, I have started to use them on an occaisional basis.  The one I got from my hostel in Buenos Aires to the bus station was fairly uneventful. It´s true, the driver did not see the minute size of his vehicle, as any hurdle to taking on a monster truck.  But we came thru unscathed.  

The pre booked taxi from Iguazu Falls to another bus station was rather poor, as it didnt bother to turn up at all.  Causing some frantic Nick style panicing, and arriving at the bus station with about three seconds to spare.

Since arriving in Rio, I have used two taxis.  The first was from the bus station to my accomodation.  The action here started before I even got into the taxi, as I seemed to spark off a sort of turf war, between the touts and the more official looking taxi that I used.  The journey was itself was fairly uneventful, though the driver did cross himself as we approached a tunnel; but I since learned that was because we passed a church.

This brings us to my final taxi ride.  As mentioned in my previous post, I went to see the movie In Time.  It was showing at the Roxy- Cococabana.  As it was finishing after dark, I figured I´d take a taxi back to my accomadation.  It couldn´t be more than five minutes away.  Up to the taxi rank I marched, armed with a piece of paper upon which I had scribbled the address.  There then followed a little discussion- at first I assumed to work out  who would take such a short ride.  It then became apparent that they didn´t quite know where the place was.  Sensing I could be some help, I said . ¨Polícia, near Polícia¨ A little more discussion followed and we were on our way.  As you will have gathered my accomodadion is near a police station.  We started to go up the long narrow winding road to my hostel.  The driver, (whose english was about on a par with my  Portuguese), kept turning to me for  reassurance.  ¨Polícia, near Polícia¨ I repeated.  Now, somewhere along the line my driver had forgotton the address I had handed him, and was now totally committed to taking me to see the police.  I know this, because he proceded to drive us straight towards five Brazilian policemen armed with machine guns.  Now I wish I could explain how your author managed to get out the taxi, negotiate with these armed policemen, and get to the hostel- but its all a bit of a blur.  

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