Ganja Taxi Adventure
Note to Readers! this was actually written about a month ago! sorry for the delay. Its been a month! Reports on my Birthday Party and Christmas are soon to come.
I just got back from a really fun time driving around ganja trying to find a friend of mine to get some keys for another friend of mine.
Normally I avoid taxis here like the plague because I don’t trust the drivers. This is mostly because of warnings from other people including Azeris and not because I have had any particularly bad experiences with taxi divers. Taking a taxi also involves more Azeri language use which I have yet to master even a little. (this is one of the disadvantages to having a job that depends on my English skills)
I had to go to an NGO that is also a vocational school to meet Larry- who is another Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV) here who teaches a film class. He is a documentary director and has won several (6, I believe) Emmys for his work. Unfortunately he doesn’t talk about it much so I don’t know the titles. He is also the caretaker of the key to another PCV’s Ganja home (her name is Carol) who is currently in the United States for the Holidays. Yes this is confusing and probably not very interesting but I feel I should clarify a bit.)
This evening another friend of mine who is ALSO a PCV (his name is Mike and he lives/works in Mingachavir a town about an hour and a half northeast of here)wrote to say that he would need a place to stay in Ganja for the weekend and was hoping to stay at Carol’s. I contacted Larry about the key around 9:00 this evening (Thursday) and he said that he was leaving to do some filming for Sheki (see previous blog) the next morning and would be gone until Monday but I could come by the school to pick it up. This sprang me into action realizing that I had to act tonight in order to secure lodging for my friend.
So first I had to go to the little corner store and break a 20 in order to have exact change for the cab. It is always risky not having exact fair because then the Drivers can just say they don’t have change in order to get more money. At the store I asked where this vocational school was located. They all recognized the name but weren’t exactly sure of its whereabouts and mumbled something about it being near the nurse’s college. This was enough to at least talk to a cab driver about. So having small bills to pay a cab I went to the taxi stand and found one lone taxi. I asked the driver if he knew where the school was. He talked like he knew sort of what I was talking about but I could tell he had no idea. He knew where the nurses college was- that was at least a start. But I wasn’t convinced of that so I started to go find another taxi when he got out and ran across the street to the other drivers headed in the other direction and asked all of them. Some minutes later he came back still not sure of where we were going but I thought I would give it a try. An older woman got in too, and he asked her about it and she seemed like she might know where this place was. We headed off in the general direction I thought we should go, when after a few minutes we stopped and asked some more drivers on the side of the road and they all pointed in different directions. The taxi driver nodded and then just kept on. We wove through the dark and narrow pot hole strewn streets of Ganja. I had a sinking feeling we were not headed in the right direction. I tried to text Larry but to my dismay saw that the battery in my phone was almost dead but I managed to squeak in a short SOS message. After a few more twists and turns the taxi driver stopped at a building and said ‘burdadir’ its here. And I looked at the very dark house-like building and said ‘no- this is not it. We paused for a few minutes, then struck out again on another route. After a while we stopped again and this time the old lady got out. Now I was alone with the driver with no idea where I was or where I was going for that matter. The warning beep on my phone reminded me that I only had a few more ounces of juice left before I was truly alone. Then my phone made another noise – a message- from Larry with directions- I was hoping. And directions there were. I quickly memorized them and took down Larry’s number.
I told the driver with my very limited vocabulary – that we had to go by a cemetery near the teacher’s college- since I didn’t know the word for cemetery I was saying things like “we have to go left at the dead people with rocks”. The driver amazingly enough understood. But when we got to the school- no Larry- he was at his apartment. By this time my phone had died. However thankfully the Taxi driver threw me his phone and I called up Larry and got directions to his apartment which luckily was not far from the school. Finally in a few minutes we arrived, made the key exchange and headed back for my home. The driver and I had a good laugh about it- and I gave him a hefty tip-for the craziness of the trip and the use of his phone.
Mission accomplished and I have since overcome my fear of taxis.
I just got back from a really fun time driving around ganja trying to find a friend of mine to get some keys for another friend of mine.
Normally I avoid taxis here like the plague because I don’t trust the drivers. This is mostly because of warnings from other people including Azeris and not because I have had any particularly bad experiences with taxi divers. Taking a taxi also involves more Azeri language use which I have yet to master even a little. (this is one of the disadvantages to having a job that depends on my English skills)
I had to go to an NGO that is also a vocational school to meet Larry- who is another Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV) here who teaches a film class. He is a documentary director and has won several (6, I believe) Emmys for his work. Unfortunately he doesn’t talk about it much so I don’t know the titles. He is also the caretaker of the key to another PCV’s Ganja home (her name is Carol) who is currently in the United States for the Holidays. Yes this is confusing and probably not very interesting but I feel I should clarify a bit.)
This evening another friend of mine who is ALSO a PCV (his name is Mike and he lives/works in Mingachavir a town about an hour and a half northeast of here)wrote to say that he would need a place to stay in Ganja for the weekend and was hoping to stay at Carol’s. I contacted Larry about the key around 9:00 this evening (Thursday) and he said that he was leaving to do some filming for Sheki (see previous blog) the next morning and would be gone until Monday but I could come by the school to pick it up. This sprang me into action realizing that I had to act tonight in order to secure lodging for my friend.
So first I had to go to the little corner store and break a 20 in order to have exact change for the cab. It is always risky not having exact fair because then the Drivers can just say they don’t have change in order to get more money. At the store I asked where this vocational school was located. They all recognized the name but weren’t exactly sure of its whereabouts and mumbled something about it being near the nurse’s college. This was enough to at least talk to a cab driver about. So having small bills to pay a cab I went to the taxi stand and found one lone taxi. I asked the driver if he knew where the school was. He talked like he knew sort of what I was talking about but I could tell he had no idea. He knew where the nurses college was- that was at least a start. But I wasn’t convinced of that so I started to go find another taxi when he got out and ran across the street to the other drivers headed in the other direction and asked all of them. Some minutes later he came back still not sure of where we were going but I thought I would give it a try. An older woman got in too, and he asked her about it and she seemed like she might know where this place was. We headed off in the general direction I thought we should go, when after a few minutes we stopped and asked some more drivers on the side of the road and they all pointed in different directions. The taxi driver nodded and then just kept on. We wove through the dark and narrow pot hole strewn streets of Ganja. I had a sinking feeling we were not headed in the right direction. I tried to text Larry but to my dismay saw that the battery in my phone was almost dead but I managed to squeak in a short SOS message. After a few more twists and turns the taxi driver stopped at a building and said ‘burdadir’ its here. And I looked at the very dark house-like building and said ‘no- this is not it. We paused for a few minutes, then struck out again on another route. After a while we stopped again and this time the old lady got out. Now I was alone with the driver with no idea where I was or where I was going for that matter. The warning beep on my phone reminded me that I only had a few more ounces of juice left before I was truly alone. Then my phone made another noise – a message- from Larry with directions- I was hoping. And directions there were. I quickly memorized them and took down Larry’s number.
I told the driver with my very limited vocabulary – that we had to go by a cemetery near the teacher’s college- since I didn’t know the word for cemetery I was saying things like “we have to go left at the dead people with rocks”. The driver amazingly enough understood. But when we got to the school- no Larry- he was at his apartment. By this time my phone had died. However thankfully the Taxi driver threw me his phone and I called up Larry and got directions to his apartment which luckily was not far from the school. Finally in a few minutes we arrived, made the key exchange and headed back for my home. The driver and I had a good laugh about it- and I gave him a hefty tip-for the craziness of the trip and the use of his phone.
Mission accomplished and I have since overcome my fear of taxis.
posted by Kateabroad @ 12:05 AM
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