Zona Romantica – Part II

I have to say that while we were in Mexico we had the most charming array of taxi drivers and I never once had the feeling that we were being “played.” Perhaps we were just fortunate but being an intuitive sort I really believe that sometimes the most obvious explanation – that these were actually kind, uncomplicated people – is the truth.  One driver in particular, an older, stocky man clearly happy to have yet another opportunity to test-drive his English was especially sweet and after an initially awkward beginning ( kind of like the feeling you had as a teenager when Someone’s Else’s Dad was driving you home and they run out of steam after “Sooo, how’s school going?”) we had a really spirited, excellent  rapport which culminated in him handing over his cellphone and insisting that I scroll through his photos of local construction sites, places he had been with family etc.

So a genuine sharing, not a lead-in to “I-can-take-you-there-later-for-special-price.”

When we got out at the airport, I complimented him on his driving as well as his English and he bowed deeply, squeezed my hand and said “God Bless You.”  I felt irrationally moved and sad since we were leaving that morning.  I also felt extremely angry and defensive recalling all the people at home who had grimaced knowingly and made disparaging, warning comments about going to Mexico. As they say in the north of England: “Best to take people as you find them.”

On a more base level, we also had some take-your-breath-away handsome taxi  drivers. This is a look I myself have always appreciated (dark and swarthy not taxi-drivers, per se) and can probably be easily traced back to watching re-runs of I Love Lucy and experiencing first twinges of lust for the then-stunning Desi Arnaz …

But back to our gripping tale.  

All of the drivers seemed equally at home driving down narrow winding streets or up a cliff face seemingly on two wheels, all the while commenting on every day  life, politics and restaurants that their brother owned etc.  My favourite was when we happened upon an accident in the street (someone had backed into someone else very inconsequentially) and our driver slowed down, rolled down his window to offer what appeared to be a small summary statement, delivered at top-speed in part-Spanish, part-English, as to why the woman shouldn’t worry, it was very minor damage easily fixed etc. The young woman nodded tearfully and raised her hand as we pulled away and I kept watching her in the distance till she and her tiny white car slid from view.

I really don’t think they knew each other; it just seemed to be a companionable, kind reassurance that everything would be okay between two strangers.

We need a bit more of that.

Just saying.

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