Tales of the Lecrin Valley

A personal view of life in an andalusian village.

I was in Granada airport waiting for an arrival the other day when I saw a lot of what looked publicity leaflets. I leant over some chap’s shoulder and picked one of the sheets up to have a look, only to find that it wasn’t publicity but the notes of the chap I had leant over. He was a bit put out at first but we had a laugh when I told him I thought it was a bunch of leaflets advertising sights in Granada. He told me that he was a taxi-driver who was studying medieval architecture for an Open University degree and used his time to study while waiting for fares. He had really got into the mood as his notes were all in medieval script and very neat. You know the type, ‘f’ for ‘s’ and so on. Better than sitting in his cab playing games on his mobile like the other drivers, he told me, and I agree with him. We had a long chat about the architecture in Granada and left new-found friends. I’ll keep an eye out for him next time I need a cab in Granada. I am always amazed at the people you find driving cabs. In Washington DC a few years ago, before their country was invaded, there was a taxi company almost exclusively employing Afghani engineers as cabbies. Their qualifications weren’t recognised by the Americans so they resorted to driving taxis and studying for the American degree part-time. And there’s a Scottish taxi driver I know in Edinburgh who speaks Arabic and Turkish but prefers driving a cab to working in linguistics. Funny old lot, cabbies. Almost impossible to find a mini-cab driver who speaks English in London.