Cool Man

As I do so frequently, I’m standing at the roadside, waiting for a microbus. As usual, a taxi stops although I haven’t given any sign. I let the driver understand, that I don’t want to take a taxi.

But hej, what’s that… there’s great music resounding from the car! No Qur’an recitation, no Arabic pop music... it’s: Gipsy Kings and Reggae. I smile and tell him, that his music is great.

I should come in only because of the music; he is on his way home anyway, it’s the end of his shift. No, I don’t want to and give him the sign for: no money. He insits, but I refuse.

Soon later, I get on one of my beloved microbuses, get off in the banking district, settle my business and 15 minutes later, I’m standing once more, as I do so frequently, at the roadside… waiting for a microbus.

Yet, who stops again in front of me? The same taxi driver with the same cool music! He is smiling and says that this is destiny. I agree and get on the taxi. We have a nice chat about music and Hurghada’s taxi-mafia and lough a lot. Reda speaks English rather well, his grey hair is done in a ponytail and on top of it he wears a baseball cap. Before I get out at the Marina, I take his telephone number for the next time. This time, my ride was for free.

This also is Hurghada!