Strange coincidence

Today I took two taxis, one on the morning and one on the way home. The coincidence is that they both had hearing problems.

The one in the morning was driven by a highly efficient gentleman who appeared to be hard of hearing. He was an excellent driver who knew exactly where he was going.

My afternoon uncle took 20 minutes to arrive after bidding 5-7 minutes (taxi calls are competitive in Singapore. Drivers bid by how much time it will take them to arrive).

He then proceeded to miss just about every turn, not because he was deaf, but rather because he was not listening.

"Turn left at the next junction please uncle." No answer

"Turn left here please." No answer as we sped past the turn.

"Oh, sorry sorry."

To make matters worse, there were discarded tissues in the door handle. One of my least favorite things about Singapore cabs. More on that later

Meet Uncle Stinky

This morning's taxis were unexceptional in most ways. Fairly clean. No life-threatening driving.

But one was driven by a gentlemen whose hygiene was, shall we say, less than adequate. Alas, this is not unusual. And to be fair, there are few opportunities to shower or freshen up during a 12-hour shift behind the wheel.

But it takes its toll on some drivers more than others. Unfortunately, Uncle Stinky is a lot more common than he should be. If you were a bird watcher, you could add this variety to your notebook pretty easily in all seasons.

Let's call today's driver a 4.5 on the Richter scale. You'll notice it, but it's not enough to knock down any buildings.

Oh, and noticing the coffees we were holding, he asked us not to spit when we were drinking. Fair enough.

Shriners

Tonight, we had a cabbie who knew where he was going and a taxi free of used tissues in the door. The gods were smiling.

The driver had a dashboard shrine, as many drivers have here. Some are quite elaborate. The Indian god Ganesh is popular as are a range of Chinese gods. Humidifiers, fans and various communication devices also ride shotgun in Singaporean cabs.

I haven't a clue about what this one means. Uncle said it's an homage to a Chinese movies about a dog trying to find his way back home. But I really don't see the connection.

This is the first of what I expect will be many shrine photos

This is what it's come to

I spend a small but significant part of my life in the back seat of taxis in Singapore. This is often the strangest part of my day. Or the most frustrating, or the funniest or the most disgusting.

Maybe no one wants to read about this. But I feel strangely compelled to write about it.

Or maybe it's just boredom. But I suppose that's how most blogs start.