It’s a mini-bus. It’s a taxi. It’s a rickety vehicle that’s transporting the car-less masses despite being on its last legs. Yes, we’re talking about those dingy little buses you see hooting down the highway, crammed full of people that stare desperately at your air-conditioned, four-wheel drive.
And we’re talking about them because they’ve become one of my favourite modes of transport in Abu Dhabi.
The first time I caught one, my diva friends nearly haemorrhaged from shock horror. But the reality is that UAE taxi-buses are misunderstood. And more people ought to know that they offer up experiences which never cease to surprise and amuse.
It unfolds at the bus terminal, where on the one hand you’ll have men making ablution in public by the station office, and on the other you’ll have them praying or chatting on yonder grassy patch. Others will be napping on a nearby bench and then there are the drivers. These guys stand around accosting random passersby and yelling out their destinations, normally with song.
The air conditioning on these old vehicles is usually broken or not up to scratch. So you’re advised to make the journey in the evening. If you’re very unlucky, the air-conditioning will be in perfect condition and on full blast and you’ll be sitting in the front passenger seat. Good luck.
Once the bus is full, the mad scramble for change will ensue as all the passengers pay their fare with arms stretching all over the place and money passing from hand to hand. Usually the driver will scold everyone for giving him Dhs100 notes, which leaves him with little change to work with. And this is your introduction to everyone you’ll be stuck with for the next hour. What follows is a warm familiarity, which breaks the invisible barriers of social segregation which has us all living in our insular communities most the time: someone will actually talk to you.
Sometimes it’s the driver (in broken English) until he gives up and speaks to someone else in tones that suggest they’ve known each other since forever (although they haven’t). Other times it’s a fellow passenger. If no one wants to speak to you though, don’t be offended. Don your headphones and turn your iPod volume to high.
Few things in life beat a stretch of open road as far as the eye can see. Demand the front passenger seat (easier to do if you’re female) and you’ll get to appreciate it for a whole hour, sitting next to a Pakistani uncle who you’ll grow very fond of in spite of language barriers. And it’ll only cost you Dhs20 for the experience! The best music to go with this kind of journey is melancholic Turkish folk songs. Preferably the re-vamped Anatolian rock versions. Alternatively, the soundtrack to Drive works well, too.
