Taking a cab can be a mixed experience in Macau. Most of the time, it can be a trip with nothing but silence, save for a blaring radio or the sound of constant WeChat voice messages, with the words “where to?”, “here?”, “how much?” and “thank you” being the extent of the exchange between passenger and driver. At worst? A verbal sparring match or needing to pay much more than normal because the driver somehow decided to take a longer route.
A cab ride can also be mundane, simply a means to an end. But could there be much more to it? Or rather, can it actually be memorable? Through two personal experiences, I think it certainly can be.
For the love of driving
One afternoon, a cab acted as my shelter from the relentless heavy rain that rendered my umbrella useless. This is where I met a driver in his early thirties, the most unusually jolly cab driver I ever met. His cab was quiet, free from the sounds of the radio or voice messages, quiet enough to engage in conversation, which he did with a warm smile.
During our cab ride, I learnt that he had three loves in life – his wife, his two young kids and driving. He told me that after becoming a father, he decided to leave his office job to become a stay-at-home dad. Although he absolutely loved caring for his kids, he said that being able to drive a lot more was something he looked forward to for four years. “I love my kids, but I couldn’t wait until they were both old enough for daycare so that I could have time to drive” he said, adding that this was one of the main reasons he took up driving a cab.
The love of being behind the wheel was demonstrated through the smoothest cab ride I ever had. He kept up his talkative and friendly attitude throughout the ride, making me feel like I was more than a fare and that driving was more of a hobby than a job. It was an experience akin to riding with a good friend rather than simply “taking a cab”.
As the conversation went on, we talked about everything from future advice for marriage and fatherhood to a shared love for collectibles and odd trinkets. I had entered the cab in a hurry, caring only about where I needed to go, but when I exited, I had made a new friend.
Lessons from the road
After a party one night, I had to get to another destination from Cotai as quickly as possible. The choice was between a thirty-minute wait for a bus, where I would most likely be packed like a sardine, or taking a cab. Choosing the latter, I got into a cab driven by a man in his late fifties surnamed Ka, who would share his experiences on the road.
Ka had been driving cabs for more than half of his life, with most of the driving done in Hong Kong. “I like Hong Kong’s roads better,” he said. However, there was no shortage of familiarity with Macau’s roads.
As we entered Estrada Governador Nobre de Carvalho from the Cotai roundabout, we were held up in traffic. “This road is quite an accident blackspot, you know?”, he commented as we sat idly waiting. “I’m sure that’s the reason why we are all stuck here now.” As we exchanged guesses, cars slowly moved forward, with the cause of the traffic jam revealed to be two badly damaged cars.
As he drove to my destination, Ka talked about the fastest routes to take to certain places, which he said would undoubtedly be useful once I started driving. He was quick and efficient, which was also shown in the way he drove. The details of the road mattered, he emphasised, teaching me a few names for specific areas for the next time I had to take a cab. These were his lessons from the road to me.
Photo taken yesterday by Rui Pastorin
