citrus

I need to get back home and I refuse to take a taxi because it’s bloody expensive. I’m not terribly concerned. I do an unreasonably large amount of unwanted touring around the area before finally reaching Al Qusais.That’s where I want to be. From here I need to take a taxi back home. There is however a small complication, which I will not go into. I do manage to get a taxi, but sharing it with one other philipino and another man. And this is where my starring role begins. The driver starts to speak in hindi. Hero that I am, I pretend to understand. I even translate to the philipino. The driver, he’s grumbling away to high heavens. He wants to make the shortest trip possible. I’m certainly not helping. When he asks if it’s Al Futaim that I want to go to, I say, Yes, yes, that’s right and when he asks if it’s Double Cola that I want to go to, I say, Yes, that’s right, that’s right. [all in hindi by the way *cheesy smile *. Now this might not sound possible, this wanting to go to two different places and it is in face frustrating the driver. The thing is that I stay on the road between Al Futaim and Double Cola, a sort of I shaped figure could describe it. The driver just wants to take the shortest route, but the only thing I can say to that is, tough luck buddy. I don’t know, I’m new here.