Yesterday I did something I never thought in a million years that I would do. I rode a motor cycle taxi up the mountain to go see a friend. I know, before you say, Holy Cow Michele Has Changed! let me explain that there are only a few ways to get around. And only a few roads on which to do that. One, you have a POV that you can use to go places. Ours is a Ford Econoline van. And while it's a good sturdy vehicle, it is too long to traverse the dangerous hairpin turns on the mountain roads. Also, it doesn't have the power to get up many of the steepest roads, plus the roads have holes in them that make pot holes look like tiny pips. Secondly, you can hire a vehicle with a driver. This can cost anywhere from $35 US to $150 US depending on if it's a one way ride or a whole day, wait for you kind of excursion. After that, you have 2 choices for public transportation; tap-tap, which is like a mini bus - either a converted van or truck, or a motorbike taxi.
These rides are very cheap, but when riding a tap-tap you could end up in the back of a truck with 30 people crammed in the space built for 10 people, and their can be any kind of cargo, live chickens, giant bowls of fruit or stinky food, lengths of re-bar. The problem with these first three options is that it can take as long as two and a half hours to go 4 miles. The traffic here makes rush hour on the Lodge Fwy look like a day in the park! So that leaves motorbike taxi, or what they call moto. These are not cheap compared to the tap-tap, but the moto drivers can go on roads the cars can't traverse and also they can weave in and out of traffic so the trip isn't as long.
The trouble is, they aren't very safe. There's no helmet for the passenger. Often times they have little or no brakes, they run out of gas, they usually don't have mirrors. And this is just the beginning. You really want to know your moto driver because some of them work with the street gangs and you could get robbed very easily while on a moto.
So, anyways, my friend works for the American Red Cross and they have such strict safety rules and procedures that it's nearly impossible to get to see him unless I go to his residence. No biggie, except our van won't do it. The last time I went, I had one of the guys drive me to the bottom of his hill and I walked the rest of the way up. No problem, except it's nearly insane for a white woman to walk anywhere! So when I called for my ride home, they didn't answer. I didn't want to walk down the mountain too late at night so I walked down in the early dark, all the way to the Kinam Hotel, which meant traversing a very narrow mountain road that is heavily trafficked, both by autos and by pedestrians. I got quite a few crazy looks as people passing realized I was a white woman walking alone. Then it was a few more hours of sitting at the Kinam waiting to get ahold of someone to come pick me up and waiting for them to arrive. It wasn't too awful as there was a group of American orthopedic doctors who where in town to donate prosthetics. They bought me drinks and invited me to dinner. My ride arrived just as they were getting seated so I didn't get that opportunity.
So, back to yesterday's adventure, I had my director line up a moto driver that was trustworthy to pick me up at our gate and drop me at my friends gate. No problem. Except he doesn't speak English so when he arrived at the wrong location, we had a bit of a challenge getting him reoriented to get me to my actual destination. So instead of a 1 hour motorcycle ride, I had a 2 hour adventure. At one point we were on a road that was so steep I had to get off the bike and walk about 50 yards until his motor could regain enough power to get both of us up the remainder of the hill. Crazy!
I was so terrified in the beginning that I had an iron grip on his rib cage and a thigh lock on his legs. He kept saying, "You are trying to be fearful, but don't be!" I laughed and asked him to forgive me as he was a very cautious and conscientious driver. He went very slow and didn't take any of the chances I see other moto drivers taking. The trip was probably twice as long as need be, but I'm sure my director, who is a very big and intimidating guy, probably threatened him with bodily harm if anything happened to me.
So, at the end of my visit, I called my director to have the moto come back for me. This ride was all down hill. I was far more relaxed, mostly because I had come to trust the driver, and perhaps a little bit because I'd had a few glasses of wine. I held the back rail instead of squeezing the breath out of the poor driver. We had a little bit of conversation this time. And he took the scenic route to show me some of the nicer Christmas decorations through the suburb of Petionville, which is full of stores and restaurants and bars. It was a nice, cool evening, and aside from the horribly polluted air which forces one to squint their eyes and hold their breath, it was a pleasant ride home. He charged me 1/2 what was quoted by the first driver, so I tipped him heartily and kissed him on the cheek with a "God bless you, and Bon Noel" He was a little shocked and the kids that opened the gate for me were laughing that I kissed my driver!
So, Nik Rager, what do you think of that? Your motorcycle hating mama took a wild ride on a mountain drive, in a short-sleeved shirt, shorts, and sandals, without a helmet! Insane, huh?
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