Taxis

In most of the places I've been to, the easiest way to get around by far has been by taxi. This has been for a few reasons. Firstly, while Delhi has an amazing underground system, elsewhere public transport has not really covered where I've needed to go. Secondly, it's incredibly cheap! Most taxis we've had have cost a few quid, and where I'm staying right now we're getting most taxi's for less than a pound. 

 

Arriving in any major city can be a bit tricky, because some dodgy taxi drivers see this as an opportunity to take advantage. A result of this is that the Indian government have installed approved pre-paid counters which offer a set price to your destination. These are invaluable. We've also always made sure to get a price agreed in advance of any journey outside of travelling, just to be safe. 

The taxi's are pretty cool - in most cities they look like 1960's London black cabs, but painted yellow. There's almost always a lack of seatbelts, but you get used to it. In Delhi, there were a lot more minibus style taxis, which usually had about a foot less headroom than I'd have liked.

But anyway, enough of the boring stuff! I've had some amazing taxi experiences I want to share with you, which I'm prefacing  now with a note saying that most of the taxi drivers we've met have seemed like lovely chaps. 

In Kolkata, there was a general strike one of the days we were staying there, which meant getting a taxi was a bit harder, although not impossible. We ordered one to take us home at around 10pm, and fifteen minutes later we saw one headlight turn around the corner, on an incredibly battered looking car.

It was my turn to pay, which means I rode shotgun (for anyone who doesn't speak cool, this means I was up front in the passenger seat). As we pulled away, everything seemed fine, but this level of normality was removed ten minutes later, when we took a corner at about 30 miles an hour and the passenger door swang open while I was being pushed in that direction from the turn.

I squealed (yes, squealed) while desperately trying to grab the door and shut it. Luckily the driver heard, and sorted it out. I say sorted it out, he slammed the door and told me it was fine. Quite an experience. 

A few days later, as we arrived in Goa, we took a taxi out to our beach. I was quite looking forward to getting away from the crazy city roads, and onto some much more relaxed country lanes. I was wrong to feel this way. 

Our taxi driver was suffering from the biggest sense of road rage I've ever encountered. Anything on the road was there to be taken over, especially if it was a bus or a lorry. We overtook cars on blind corners at least 3 times, and forced oncoming traffic to screech to a halt as we pulled out. This journey lasted for 90 minutes. 

Still, at least the driver didn't mind - when I grabbed my seat in fear, he burst out laughing.

Next time: Goa! Beachy times and Dolphin Hunting, as I find Monkey Island.