Steven, the Enterprising Taxi Driver

The rhythm of time
Is the sound the ball made when
We use to play catch.


Wednesday, October 20, 2015

We take a taxi home after we do our grocery shopping. That’s very common here. Yesterday my plan was to ask the driver if he could wait for just a minute while I retrieved our empty propane canister and if he could then take us to the nearest store, Berards, and again wait for just a minute while I got a new canister, and then return us home. It sounds like a lot of waiting, but really it’s very quick and would be a win - win for both the driver and us. We don’t have to walk an empty canister to the store and then wait for a taxi, and the driver doesn’t have to spend time looking for other fares.

The young driver, Steven, who picked us up from the grocery store was one of the few drivers who spoke to us in English. He had no problem taking us to Berards if we didn’t mind if he first picked up a friend. That turned out to be just the first little detour on what became a brief tour of some of the small side streets we’ve never traveled down in Volcan.

After he picked up his friend, a mariachi band leader whose band competes in Panama and Costa Rica, he suggested instead of going to Berards for the gas we go to the nearby gas station. It was closer to where he picked his friend up from and we also wouldn’t have to wait in line in the store.

Next, instead of taking us home he drove down a little street to drop his friend off at a small store. At the store he picked up a man with a car tire that needed to be fixed and took him to the gas station.

After that he drove down another small road to pick up his wife and daughter. It felt a little odd going up the driveway into Steven’s home, but at this point, we were just along for the ride and hoping we weren’t being kidnapped.

He introduced his wife and daughter though he kept referring to his daughter as his son. In learning English, he may have only learned the translation of “ninos”, which in Spanish can refer to children or boys, as “son”. I don’t know why he didn’t know the translation of “nina” as daughter, but then I’m sure many of the people around here don’t understand what I’m saying half the time either.

He did take us home with his wife and daughter in tow after picking them up. He also gave us his number suggesting that next time we need gas to call him and he’ll bring it to us then take our empty canister to the store. That would definitely be a hassle saver for us. But we might prefer that he pick us from the grocery store so we can enjoy another underground tourist ride through the side streets of Volcan.