Global IssuesBaksheesh, Kisses and Cabbies in Beautiful Baku
BAKU, Nov 20 (IPS) - The cab driver, identified as Akad, growled, "Cash, cash," as we boarded our booked app-based taxi. I show him my phone, where the app clearly points to the payment confirmation. "No, no! Cash, cash!"
I confirm the destination, ignore the slightly bullying tactics and we move forward. He is one of many taxi drivers we have encountered in Baku and our experiences have been many and varied.
Fun, aggressive, cat-loving, noisy, chatty, fast, slow—despite the obvious communication issues—often resolved with a quick translation via Google Translate—most have given us great service.
Even Akad made us laugh. He got lost, and I thought he was about to take us on a roundabout. He soon corrected himself (well, with a bit of help as I redirected using my own maps app) and then, in a flurry of flirtatiousness, sprayed himself liberally with so much perfume that my colleague had to open the window for fresh air.
Akad kindly spoke to our hosts by phone for the absolutely correct information of where to leave us and waved us off.
Outside the Ganjlik Mall, drivers looking for fares open their car's trunks to advertise their availability. My Kenyan colleague is a master of negotiation. "Fifteen manat," the driver tells her.
"Ha, why will I pay you 15 when I paid 10 yesterday?" she replies.
His English isn't great, but the message is clear. He agrees, and as we board, he has to encourage a kitten that made a home in his driver's seat out of the car.
The driver confirms in broken English he feeds her, and she looks for him when he returns to find his next fare. A relationship made in heaven, methinks.
At times drivers seem to not be able to reach the "pin" set. When it happens, I scout around for an authority figure to assist. When a police officer advised we cancel and use his (overpriced) mate, I realized Baku is not far from home in South Africa after all.
If I could, I would tell them that while we may be COP29 delegates and foreigners, that doesn't make us naïve.
Baku likes heat; it may be winter, but almost every venue, hotel room and taxi is uncomfortably hot—including the London-style cab that took us from Baku's famous Nizami Street to Sea Breeze—our residence in the sticks, or as my colleague calls it, "the boondocks."
We asked him to turn down the heat and he opened the windows. It may have been low-tech, but a workable solution for his overheated passengers.
Baksheesh (a tip) is a big thing here, and the same London-style cab driver asked for a little extra for his negotiated fare. My colleague handed him a few manats.
When a tenner is added, he kisses her firmly and joyfully on the cheek.
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