My taxidriver today was a Lebanese-Kuwaiti who has been in Sydney for 30 odd years. He was an imposing burly man of the world with a booming voice, I was invited to guess his nationality, even the number of children he had. Russia, Iran, Iraq were all rejected even though all of these seemed admixed in his features. It turned out that he owns cabs (and one can only assume their drivers too) - this was just one of those days he had decided to take the cab for a spin. He turned out to be quite the dada of St. George and amongst other nuggets, informed me that he disliked Lebanon and indeed on his last visit had barely lasted a week, was exceedingly strict and honest unlike other Lebanese, his children were wonderful and such achievers and there was no country like Australia. This assessment of the country had echoes of the quote on Kashmir - if there be a paradise on earth, this is it. Paradise today was slightly grey and we passed the usual stretches of buildings, terraces and the desultory traffic on George Street till he deposited me at my destination.
His presence was so huge it filled the entire taxi and he didn't seem to be a man who took kindly to any opposition to his will. I haven't met a driver so formidable and imposing in all my travels.
His presence was so huge it filled the entire taxi and he didn't seem to be a man who took kindly to any opposition to his will. I haven't met a driver so formidable and imposing in all my travels.
