I've spent a lot of time in the backseat of someone else's car.
Lately, it's been with the company of middle-aged Korean men while watching the hypnotic blur of city greyness from the inside of their silver stained cars.
I have noticed that my experience follows a pattern.
Daytime (sober) Taxi Rides:
Someone once told me the proper way to hail a cab in Korea is to point your hand down towards the road. But I try it Carrie Bradshaw style whereby I saunter to the road, stop to pant for a second, and then stick my hand in the air like I know the answer to every question ever asked.
I get in the cab. I slide into the back.
I try to keep it simple. There is a language barrier after all. I'll normally say the subway stop or the name of the city. Sometimes I'll throw in a landmark, but that can get messy. I never use restaurant or bar names.
Me: "Eee-tay-won, eee-tay-won"
Taxi driver: "Eee-tay-won?" puzzlement fills his face. He looks me over in the rear-view mirror. I nod and grin awkwardly. "Eee-tay-won..." he tries it over in his own mouth for a bit, tasting the words, feeling for recognition. I sit patiently, eyes bulging with expectation, and watching his face closely for understanding. "Eghhhh!" escapes his mouth, "Itaewon!"
Bam! He gets it.
Me: "Yes. De. Ney. Ya. Yeap," head nodding up and down.
That was the easy part. Now I sit slouched in the back, face pressed against the window hoping this would be a quiet ride.
Taxi driver: "xxx xxx xxx xxx?"
Me: "uhm," followed by my routine of innocent eyes+shy smile+ awkward laugh, "iunno", and a shrug of the shoulders. I look back outside.
Taxi driver: (nothing deters taxi drivers) "xxx xxx xxx Korean xxx xxx?"
Me: "Ca-na-da. Ca-na-da"
Taxi driver: "eghhhh! CA-NA-DA". They always have to say it louder than me.
Me: (grin) "Yes. De. Ney. Ya Yeap". Awkward smile. Forced giggle. Window.
Taxi driver: "xxx xxx xx xxx...Ban-coo-ber...?"
Me: "Ehm. Ban-coo-ber...I don't speak Kore---ahh Vancouver! No, no...Tor-on-toe. Tor-on-toe."
Taxi driver: He recognizes it and nods. "Tor-on-to!...xxx xxxx xxx...Ban-cou-ber Olympics..xxx"
Me: (ending up wanting to impress him) "Ya, Yuna Kim. Vancouver. Gold. Ya. Hoot. Rawr."
The small talk seems to die.
One light change later.
Taxi driver: "xxx xxx... *coarse laughter*...xxx marry?"
Me: "Married?...anneyyyyyo! no, un uh, mmm nope..ha..he..ho." Giggle. Silence.
Taxi driver: "xxx xxx xxx"
Me: "uhm."
Taxi driver: "xxxx xxx xxx xxx...err....eghh...ughhh....agee-uh."
Me: "Ageee-uh....ageee-uh....ageuh...age? Age! Oh, yeah. Uhm. 23."
Hold up my hands.Two fingers, three fingers.
Taxi driver: "Eghhhh twentee pree...*laughter, profuse nodding*"
Geez, I think. I am so fascinating. I can say anything.
Night Time (drunken) Taxi Rides:
My classy Carrie Bradshaw style of hailing a cab gets replaced by a zombie-like dash into the middle of the street, eyes unfocused and heavy with gin and tonics, arms banging on the passenger side window.
Taxi driver: (rolls down the window)
Me: "Nok-sap-ee-ong," I utter with precision.
Taxi driver: (nods), my Korean is much better the more inebriated I am.
Me: "CAM SAM NEE DAH!" I shakily crawl into the back on all fours.
Taxi driver: "..............................."
A minute of silence to try and focus on where I am/going/seeing/doing.
Taxi driver: "...................."
Me: "What am I...doing...with...my life? Is this...everything...why does...everything suck...and...everyone...sucks...why are there soooo mannn eeee...peee...ple...in this place...did you know a...honey...uh...umm....I forgot the name...damnit...just wait...I'll remember...ugh...I hate when this...BADGER!...a honeybadger...can eat a...snake...and...a cobra...I saw it on YouTube...this one guy told me...to watch...it...I could eat a Moroccan...sand...wich...now...mmm...oh shit me...I think I lost my phone..."
Taxi driver: ".............................."
Me: "Why can't I....meet...someone...cool?...like...a drug lord from Colombia...with a...goatee...and a dragon...tattoo...*giggle*...who...builds...spacecrafts and can pilot...and...make...tortilla from flour...that he turned...from wheat...in...his...backyard...I really want...*burp*...a...sandwich..."
Taxi driver: "........................."
