Travelogue Part One---UK, France, Germany, Bulgaria, And By Accident, Greece

I will make both parts one and two brief.  The previous five "catch up" posts focused upon cabs, which has been the blog's primary narrative these past 12 years, so it is unfair to you my readers to concentrate on irrelevant subjects.  What I will do is outline some highlights as an enticement to perhaps encourage interest, incentivizing your own urge to get out and explore.  

As many might have guessed, my one addiction is travel, making me feel alive and more aware of life around me.  By my father's yearly moves across our great nation, and Canada too,  I was introduced to the wonder of new surroundings, learning a kind of stability in constant motion.  No doubt that was one of the sustaining attractions of driving taxi, moving quickly from place to place, me in my taxicab spaceship exploring known and new universes, and should I say it, alien life forms?  No, I didn't make it to Uranus this time around but countries like Georgia and Armenia were new to me, making for proper consolation prizes. Travel is like opening a door and entering to whatever surprise awaits you, you a modern Alice walking through a mirror.

London, England

London is immense, a city with many faces like Paris, New York, Chicago, Mexico City, taking many visits to completely appreciate its unique personality.  This most recent visit, first three days, then five upon my return, had me staying in Walthamstow, a wonderfully multicultural neighbor bubbling with an exuberance created by the ten of thousands of people actively celebrating the happy opportunity that living in the UK offers them.  Walthamstow is an ongoing carnival.  Entry is free.  And walking the streets a quick adventure.  I highly recommend it.  Don't miss the William Morris Museum.  Once there, you will understand.

The Gare Nord, Paris---"Lahore, Lahore"

If I were to live in London, it would be in Walthamstow.  In Paris, where I once lived in the autumn of 1984, and provided the opportunity, I would return for a much longer stay, and my first neighborhood of choice would be that crammed area of East Indian, African, Pakistani and native French surrounding the Gare Nord or North train station.  It is a wild place in constant motion---people, taxis, scooters all milling around.  I find it delightful, life at breakneck speed.  And its where my favorite restaurant in all of Paris resides, the dive eatery named after the Pakistani city of Lahore, for double emphasis, the "Lahore, Lahore." 

The place is cheap, one of the few places in Paris where you can get a complete meal for 8 Euro.  Upon entering, what you see behind the plate-glass counter are steam trays filled with many kinds of chicken and vegetable dishes along with rice and potatoes.  It's all very tasty, and you can mop up the sauces with their freshly made flat bread.  Don't be alarmed by the mostly male, slightly rough-looking diners trooping in for lunch and supper.  Just like you, they're hungry, only interested in a good meal.  Service is usually very fast.  Most often my food is in front of me in 5-10 minutes.  If I have a complaint, its that they don't have hot tea to wash it all down.  The place is completely unpretentious.  Be real and enjoy a few minutes in Pakistan.  Makes me want to go to Lahore and see the city for myself.  And knowing myself, there is a good chance I will make it there. 

The address is 158 rue du Fraubourg Denis, 10th arrondissement.  I also found the address listed as 7 rue Jarry but there is only one "Lahore, Lahore."  How could there be more than one?

Berlin: Checkpoint Charlie

If you only have a few minutes to look around the city of Berlin, get off at the Metro stop for "Check Point Charlie," an US Army Guard Shack on the once boundary of East/ West Berlin.  The former border crossing is now a historical site.  

When walking in Berlin, the "ghosts" of the Cold War are everywhere.  Look and you shall see that what has changed but not, especially in what was formally communist East Berlin.  A book I highly recommend is "Beyond the Wall: East Germany---1949-1990," by Katja Hoyer.   I visited the Deutsches Historisches Museum and found their special exhibit very interesting,  "Roads Not Taken (Oder: Es hatte auch anders kommen konnen)", featuring much information about that era.  Having just finished reading Hoyer's book, it provided insights not included in the exhibit.  

Sofia: Take the Free City Tour

I regret not staying longer than thee days in that great city and country.  I plan on returning.  My best decision during my stay was taking the free tour conducted by city natives.  I took the English language tour but they offer a number of languages for all interested tourists.  By doing that tour, in about 1 1/2 hours, you will gain very real insight into a city and culture.  Their website: info@freesofiatour.com.  I was hoping beyond hope to somehow bump into Anton, a Bulgarian Yellow Cab driver who sold his home in West Seattle and moved back home.  Alas, no Anton.  Too bad, I really liked the guy. 

An Unexpected Day in Athens

The quick version of a sad story is that Aegean Airlines did not provide enough time for me to make my connecting flight to Tbilisi, leaving me stranded for 24 hours.  Maybe because I was in a bad mood but I did not enjoy my brief stay in that most interesting of cities, Athens.  Previous visits were back in 1991 and 1999.  This day was hot and crowded with tourists.  I ate some organic olives.  I had a good lunch.  I met a scammer who promised me freshly squeezed orange juice.  I was bored.  I walked back to a main city square and took an express bus back to the airport.  But I did mail some postcards so hopefully someone enjoyed the Greek postage stamps. 

Taxis In Yerevan, Armenia

3 Cab Rides in Yerevan

It was not a good beginning.  I stepped out from the minivan from Tbilisi, and immediately a Yerevan cabbie was there to greet me.  Other than having wanting to reach the hotel I had booked through Priceline, I wasn't quite sure where I first wanted to go.  His desperation overtook commonsense, not interested in losing his quarry.  After visiting the W.C., once again there he was, and needing a cab I decided he was good as any, which probably was true.  He was willing to take Georgian money, which made for me an easier transition.  

As near as I could tell, my hotel's location bordered Republic Square, which is the heart and soul of Yerevan.  I did provide my hotel's address but the fool instead dropped me off in front of the Marriott.  Paying 17 Lari, I was glad to be rid of him.  At least I knew the Marriott would have both an ATM and English-speaking staff.  The staff was wonderful, providing me with a map and instructions on how to get to my hotel.  How close was I?  About 3/4 of a mile.  I enjoyed the walk. Yerevan reminded me of Paris, which from my perspective, is a big plus.

My second and third cab rides came on the day I was heading back to Tbilisi.  My goal that day, after an early lunch, was first to visit the Museum of the Armenian Genocide, then back to the bus station for my 5:00 PM departure.  I found a cab in the town center, and this time the driver was a professional, no arguments, providing him with a good tip.  Noticing some sitting cabs outside of the museum, I felt I would have no trouble getting one once I finished my visit.   

That turned out to be true.  After my nearly two full days in the city, I was beginning to have a rough understanding of what was where, and knew the bus station was close by.  That didn't stop my third cabbie from demanding far more than I gave him, his aggression alienating. 

Cab grade?   From such a small sample size, the Yerevan cabbies rate either a D plus or a C minus.  At least in early November, there were more cabs than customers, always a bad combination for the hungry cabbie, indigestion the result.  It's a bad idea, giving your passengers a monetary stomach ache. 

Taxis In Georgia (The Country)

 The guidebook warned about the Tbilisi cab driver: make sure you negotiate the correct fare from the airport.  I remembered this as cabbies, spotting a obvious foreigner in the terminal, attacked with their solicitations.  Telling them to quit following me, I got my cab into Tbilisi from the official cab kiosk located near the terminal exit.  Advertising one and two zone fares (50 & 70 Lari or GEL---$18.52 and $25.93); and once they understood where I was going, off we went.  The driver was a real professional, driving an airport-based cab, getting me to my Airbnb apartment ($17.00 per night) within 15 minutes, there being minimal traffic at 4:30 in the morning.  It is more or less 10 miles from the airport to the town center.  

All the taxis in Georgia, near as I could tell, ran on flat-rates minus a meter.  Of course, this leads to abuse, one fare for the locals, another for the tourists. In Sofia, I appreciated that the taxis were metered.  In Tbilisi, you were at the driver's whim and mercy, meaning that you the foreign visitor was guaranteed a higher rate no matter how much you argued, explaining why I only took three cabs total during my 27 day stay in Georgia's capitol city.  Overall, Georgia would be considered a "poor" country, with many beggars in. the streets.  This reality creates the kind of desperation leading to the kind of minor criminality too many cabbies around the world are known for.  It is certainly true in Tbilisi.  

My second cab ride took me from Freedom Square (once Lenin Square) to the Azerbaijan Embassy.  He wanted 20 but he got 15 Lari.  My third and final Tbilisi cab ride was to the airport, finding a most agreeable fellow, who got me there at about 5:30 AM for my 7:30 AM flight heading to Istanbul, then London.  Speaking some English, he was full of questions about the USA.  He was one of the better cabbies I encountered in all the various countries I visited.  He got 100 Lari for his friendly demeanor.  In Georgia, that's a lot of money.  My minivan fare from Tbilisi to Yerevan, Armenia, a distance of 169 miles, was 50 Lari.  

My remaining cab ride was in the small town of Lagodekhi, where I had gone to hike in the South Caucasus Mountains.  Turns out, my destination, a hotel located at the entrance of a huge national park, was merely one kilometer down the road.  Multiple cabbies couldn't comprehend where I needed to go.  Finally, I found a cabbie who did understand, getting me there in five minutes.  The fare was 5 lari.  I gave him 10. 

My overall rating for the Georgia/Tbilisi cabbies is a solid C, earning an average grade, especially considering the economic conditions they are subjected to.  Watching the tourists toss around the kind of money they can only dream about must drive them crazy.  Having had many millionaires in my taxi, I understand the feeling.  Though once married to a millionaire's daughter, I understand the resentment, anguish and whatever other dire emotions the cabbie experiences.  Life is a kind of living hell when you know you have no real alternatives, finding yourself, in very real terms, trapped, with no escape possible. As I have said, welcome to taxi, an occupation better avoided.

Sofia And Athens Taxi Cabs: Watch Out For Those Greeks

Sofia, Bulgaria was the fourth city I visited, Berlin instead, being the third.  Since I had no occasion to take a cab there, I will postpone describing my visit to a later post.  My Berlin Airbnb placement was located about 150 feet from the subway station, providing easy and quick access to wherever I wanted to go.  I can say that my very first cab ride in Europe occurred in early April, 1982 in Dusseldorf, West Germany, my wife and I taking a taxi from the airport to our hotel.  It was my very first time in Europe, the start of an amazing five-week long honeymoon.  That trip gave me a good taste of the continent, traveling, as we did, to Belgium, France, Spain, Portugal, Holland, ultimately returning back to Dusseldorf and our flight back to San Francisco.  What kind of car was that first taxi ride?  A Mercedes.  During our ten days in Madrid, we were propelled around that wonderful city in much smaller Seat taxis, a kind of Spanish Fiat. 

My flight to Sofia from Berlin arrived in the early evening, and of course, not knowing the city, I opted for a cab from the airport to my Airbnb apartment located near the Sofia Opera House.  My driver, a taxi novice of two years, was very nice, helpful to the point that, parking, endangered his cab on a busy street, and assisted me in finding my very confusing address.  Having the option to pay in either Bulgarian Lev or Euros, I flipped him a 20 Euro note for his trouble and kindness.  He was a good cabbie, not having worked long enough to create bad habits.  I liked him.

Sofia, it appears, is a "taxi" city, as the majority of the cabs were usually occupied, and not by tourists but by locals.  As opposed to Tbilisi, Georgia, where the cabbies were too dependent upon tourists for their money, Sofia cabbies served their fellow Bulgarians, making for a happier work force.  Those Georgian cabbies were a trifle surly, their contentment dictated by dumbbell, "over paying" tourists.  Who wants five Lari (GEL) when instead they could get 20 Lari for a two-minute long  ride?  

My other two Sofia cab rides involved me getting to and back from a local "natural area" located on the edge of the city.  The first cabbie quoted me 14 Lev but it turned into a 40 Lev ride as we went up and up upon a curvy wooded road leading to the local mountain serving as Sofia's semi-wild playground.  I didn't mind the extra charge, the ride turning into the unexpected.  It was the getting back that worried me.  

After trekking in the deciduous forest up and around some steep pathways, I realized I needed a cab but having no ability to call one, I began walking back toward the city.  Eventually, a bus came by, taking me somewhere into the city, where, after some walking, I found two cabs sitting next to a coffee shop.  The first driver wasn't interested in taking me but the guy behind him did, though somewhat reluctantly.  He was reasonable, very professional, realizing their reluctance was the difficulty with routing, my destination neither straightforward nor direct.  I know all about that, as too often in Seattle, going west to east slow going, taking up too much time for too little gain.  Regardless, this Sofia driver got me home, surprising him with a good tip.  As I have said, I know the language, whether spoken or not.  Taxi can be a pain-in-the ass, whether in Seattle or Sofia, its all the same, making the long suffering cabbie completely INSANE!

 The next day, getting back to the airport, I took the Metro.  It was cheap and direct, avoiding a final cab.  Overall I grade the Sofia cabbies a solid B.  Above yet a little below, as Chubby Checker sang in his"Limbo  Rock," ditty: "How low can you go?"

Damn Athens Cabbies 

Those Greeks!  They are a wild, feral crew.  Back in 1987, there were a bunch of these hooligans operating cabs in Seattle.  Nice bunch of taxi snakes.  Having the misfortune on October 20th of Aegean Airlines leaving me marooned in Athens for 24 hours, I had the displeasure of yet another introduction.  It did not go well.  

 More detail later  on why I got stuck in Athens but it all boiled down to Aegean not allowing enough time for me to reach my connecting flight to Tbilisi, Georgia.  To say the least, I do not recommend flying on Aegean, if it can be avoided.  

So this is the situation I found myself in.  I missed my flight and now it was 1:00 AM in the morning, my next flight now scheduled for 23 hours later.  The only airport connected hotel was $350.00.  I wasn't going to pay that.  Cheaper hotels, I were told, were located in DT Athens.  There was a 5 Euro Express Bus, which I did take but first I wanted to see if I could locate a friendly cabbie.  Personally, more times than I remember,  I've had passengers walk up to my taxi, asking if I could help them find a cheap motel room.  It is a task I know well.  And going up to the airport taxi line, that's what I asked.  

What I found out is that, minus any considerations of helping a stranded fellow cabbie, it was all about the sweet money, honey.  Yes, they would help alright, for the equivalent of nearly 80 dollars taking me DT.  Yes, passengers were coming to the cabs, and yes, you have to service the ready customer but it was clear there was little to no empathy forthcoming from these guys.  There was no disguising it.  They were taxi assholes and didn't care who knew it.  I know the type too well, Seattle, especially back in the late 80s, early 90s, having many such examples.  

Taking the bus in to what was termed the "town square," I found a lineup of cabs parked, waiting post 2:00 AM.  In fact, there were cabs sitting everywhere, with little to no business at hand.  Walking up to the lead cab, "Sure, he knew of a cheap hotel, only 1 1/2 (a mile) kilometers away."  And his charge?  20 euros.  That is, nearly $22.00 to go one mile.  Not going along with that bullshit, I found a hotel room for 76 euros, including breakfast, a mere 75 feet from that "generous" cabbie. 

Now I have taken a cab in Athens but that was back in 1999 when me and a friend were flying back to Istanbul, Turkey.  That cabbie was fine other than being a trifle late for our pickup, causing some minor anxiety.  

What is my in general assessment of the Athens cab scene?  Better to walk or take a bus, the Athens cabbie "money thirsty," and better avoided.  Athens that day was "wall to wall" tourists, meaning the Athens cabbie knew where his "bread was buttered," readily taking advantage of the typical dumbbell tourist.  Instead of Athens, try the northern Greek island of Corfu.  I stayed there for 3 weeks back in 1991.  Wonderful place. Good food.  And across the separating sea,  you'll find Albania. 

 

Limited Exposure To The World of Parian Taxi

I love taxis but when traveling I do what I can to avoid using a cab due to the sometimes high expense, local transportation options like buses and subways making far better economic sense.  During my most recent time in Paris this past October, I took what can only be called "car service cabs" to and from the Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport.  That I even took a cab the 3.5 (about 2 miles)  kilometers to my hotel was caused by screw ups I will describe in a later post.  Otherwise, an hotel shuttle would have gotten me to where I needed to be.  The best I can say is that the short ride cost me 20 Euros ($21.88) coming from the airport, with a 30 Euros ($32.85) return.  A rate of over 10-15 dollars per mile is way too much, people taking advantage of airport passengers.  If you take a cab in Paris itself, and not the ripoff airport suburbs, the minimum fare is 7.30 Euro, with a starting rate of 2.60 Euro.  There were local buses but due to scheduling, I would have missed my early morning flight to Berlin. 

The last time I took a real Paris metered cab was in December 2019 when a Metro closure forced me to, there being no alternative. The driver, taking advantage of the situation, turned his cab into a kind of shuttle. He was reasonable and knew what he was doing, a competent cabbie.  Prior to that, it was way back in the autumn of 1984, when my wife and I were moving from her Summer student apartment to a temporary hotel.  That driver wasn't so nice, and of course, having never driven a cab to that point, was less experienced dealing with the unscrupulous cabbie.  

In the Paris, the Metro, the RER trains and the buses are both reliable and frequent, making them the best way to get around in the "City of Light."  Unless you are burdened with luggage, or crunched for time, avoid a cab.  Given how beautiful and interesting the city is, I found walking, especially with distances of 1-2 miles, the best form of transport. Use you feet and walk through history at every corner.  And when tired, take a break at a sidewalk cafe.  They are everywhere.  Drink an espresso or aperitif, enjoying where you are, any arrondissement a good place to be.  You're in Paris.  As Jonathan Richman sang, "Give Paris One More Chance," and you will be glad you did.

Next Post: Sofia and Athens cabs

Back In Circulation: Taxi In Foreign Lands & Travel---The First In A Quick Series Of Seven Posts

Due to "on-the-road" sign in difficulties, I was unable to communicate in the greater blogger sphere empire but I am now back in Seattle-Land, my flight on Iceland Air from London getting into Seattle at 5:21 PM yesterday.  For those readers who are interested, over the next week to ten days, I will write a series of impressions concerning taxi in the UK and other countries where I used the services of our taxi brethren, or as in Greece, tried to.  

A very brief summation is that for many cabbies, the lesson of Uber's incursion passed them by, remaining the same assholes that allowed Uber and others to nearly destroy the then extant international taxi industry.  In other words, lessons have not been learned .  Sad but true but so blue, unfortunately, noting that nothing is new.  

After my posts concerning taxi, I will then write about my travel experiences in the United Kingdom, France, Germany, Bulgaria, Greece, Georgia (the country) and Armenia.  I also had quick layovers in Poland, Turkey and Iceland, giving me a total of 10 countries.  I enjoyed the potato dumplings at the Warsaw airport. 

But taxi first, taxi forever the crazy endeavor. 

Mini-Cabs and "Black" Cabs in London, England, UK

There are two kinds of taxis in London, mini-cabs  which are essentially a kind of meter less, flat-rate car service taxicab, and the Black cabs. Mini-cabs are dispatched to the customer, minus street hailing. On this trip, I twice took a mini-cab ride from Walthamstow Central Underground/train station.  The first time I didn't know the location of my Airbnb room. The second ride was a week ago after my return from Tbilisi, Georgia, my bags heavier, and tired after a 2,200 mile flight.  Both drivers were professional but the first driver complained about "black" passengers, and how he avoided in picking them up.  

 The Black taxicabs are the famous cabs driven by "the Knowledge" cabbies, cabs that are as synonymous with London as fish & chips and banger sausages.  For those who are unfamiliar, "the Knowledge" is the requirement that all potential Black Cab drivers know "every street" in greater London.  It of course makes for a very professional work force.

I talked to one such Black Cab owner/driver near where I was staying in Walthamstow.  When approaching a cabbie, all I need to do is identify myself as the true 35 plus year veteran cabbie I am, and instantly, we have a rapport and understanding, "taxi" a dialect we both speak.  

He was a 23 year taxi driver veteran, and found him hand washing his cab.  He drives more or less 12 hour shift five days a week.  The per mile rate is 3 British pounds, translating to $4.00 USA.  His life is now easier since the COVID pandemic, and the subsequent falloff in business resulting in a London fleet reduction from 24,000 to 16,000 Black Cabs.  His insurance is far cheaper than for Seattle taxis, being 1400 Pound sterling annually.  In US dollars that's $1, 745.75.  When I quit, my insurance rate was just over $5000.00.  

But the cost of cabs are much more, the type of car being strictly regulated.  His new replacement vehicle, slated for 3 years from now, will cost him 70,000 Pounds, or put another way, $87,735.90.  For comparison, my last Ford Crown Victoria cost me $3,500.00, and I put over 350,000 miles on the car.  When discussing hours worked, he added that he takes time off to play golf and run, making sense as the only way to survive taxi is get away from it as far as you can. Otherwise, you're a "dead man" driving.  That's all our shared reality.

Next post: Paris cabs

Doug Silva The "Taxi" Lawyer----He's The Best & The Communists Were Going To Kidnap This Cabbie & Off To The UK And The Continent

 All Hail Doug Silva, Seattle Taxi's Hero and Savior

A taxi buddy emailed me that the attorney Doug Silva had won yet another case for him, this time getting rid of a speeding ticket issued by WSP (Washington State Patrol).  I believe I have mentioned Doug in the past but his speciality, defeating traffic tickets, is something me and others have appreciated over the past three decades.  He is a wizard, and worth every penny spent his way.  There was a point in time when local cops were intentionally targeting cabbies, and but for Doug, too many of us would have been put out of business permanently, all those tickets guaranteeing we were off the road for the next five years.  

I have many favorite Doug Silva stories, although the top tale for me stems from my last moving violation ticket from at least 7 or more years ago.  A very unpleasant Seattle cop had issued me a ticket for nothing whatsoever.   Knowing it was complete bullshit, I hired Doug but I made the big error of not appearing with him.  If I had, I would have told the judge "I certainly did not confess to this violation!" because that is exactly what the dishonest cop wrote to the court.  Since I wasn't there, I was found guilty.  What did Doug do in response?  He paid my fine!  Truly beyond the call of duty but a great example of how seriously he takes his cases.  More than a lawyer, he was a kind of friend, Doug understanding all too well what the cops were up to.  

More than angry, I wrote a letter to the then Seattle Chief of Police.  He wrote me back but to this day I have never opened the letter, unhappy to the point that no words can right the wrong done to me.  That cop was crazy.  His actions making no sense but when you have all the power, and a gun to back it up, this kind of stuff sometimes happens.  It wasn't Doug's fault.  He was blindsided. 

Here is Doug Silva's contact info:

206-772-2225       FAX 206-772-0355

8404 83rd Ave SW, Suite H, Lakewood, WA 98498

Office hours M-F: 8:30 AM-4:30 PM

No, Steve, You Were Not Going to be Kidnapped in Spain by Communists in 1972

I have a neighbor who once drove cab, and like so many cabbies of an era, he holds outlandish conceptions of what life is like, and unfortunately, existing in their own concocted fantasy world.  Before trying his hand at cab driving, for years he was a ship builder, and had the good luck of constructing Trident-Class submarines.  

Amazing to me, he reported that he and others were taken along on trial runs to Spain and Scotland.  What I found incredibly funny is that he told me that when the boat docked in Rota, Spain, none of the worker crew were allowed to visit the city.  Why?  Because communist thugs were lurking nearby, waiting to kidnap him.  

I asked him if he knew anything about General Francisco Franco, the Fascist Dictator who ruled Spain from 1939 to November 20th, 1975?   Of course he didn't and he didn't care, going on to say they also docked at Dundee, Scotland, which held the same warning: the communists were out to get him.  I said, "But Steve, that is the UK." which prompted his repeated shouts, "It was the Cold War! the Cold War!   After that, I just gave up.   Why even mention George Orwell's classic book about the Spanish Civil War?   There was no point.  

Speaking of the United Kingdom

I will be flying to London on October 3rd.  From there to other destinations.  If I encounter any taxi stories I will relate them.