Lebanon does not have a public transportation system, or at least not one that I have discovered. What it has instead are unmetered taxis and shared taxis called “service” (using the French pronunciation – ser VEESS).
Many Beirutis own cars, and can be seen driving around in expensive German cars such as BMWs, Mercedes Benz or Audis. Those less fortunate get around in either taxis or in a “service”.
My first taxi ride, from the airport to my hotel, was booked through my hotel. It cost me $30. My next taxi ride the morning after my arrival, was to the downtown area to get a local SIM card for my cell phone. That trip cost me $10 each way. Two days later when I was to report for work, I took a taxi from my hotel to my office. That ride also costs me $10. At this rate I was going to go broke taking taxis. Colleagues told me I should take a “service” since they were much cheaper and only cost 2,000 Lebanese Pounds, around US$ 1.33 per ride. This option was the way to go - but I was clueless.
“Service” – Beirut’s Shared Taxis
I was told that if I wanted to take a “service” I should look for old beaten-up Mercedes Benzes with red license plates and old drivers; they would approach me as I was walking and honk at me. I should tell the driver where I wanted to go and, if the driver was going in that general direction with his other passengers, he would agree to take me.
My first challenge in taking a “service” was pronouncing the names of the places. Obviously, if I didn’t correctly pronounce the name of the place, the driver wouldn’t understand me. Several months of Arabic lessons has helped me in this respect. My next challenge was to understand Lebanese facial and hand gestures in response to my request. ‘No’ is indicated by pointing up with the chin. ‘Yes, get in, I’ll take you’ is indicated when the driver turns his head slowly to the right, looking at the passenger seat. And then there is the expression of misunderstanding: the driver does this by squeezing his eye, nose and mouth together, shaking his head from side to side and saying “Shu? Wayne?” (“What? Where?). This is sometimes accompanied by hand gestures.
I was told that once I was in the car, my trip might have some slight detours before the driver finally reached my destination. Shortly before getting out, I should say, “tfahdahl” (“here you go” or “please”) and hand the driver 2,000 Lebanese pounds.
Case of Mistaken Identity
After a few confident rides I learned the names of other places and started taking the “service” from one place to another. Often they would mistakenly think that my Mediterranean looks meant that I was Lebanese. On those occasions the driver would start speaking to me in Arabic. I would say that I do not speak Arabic and that I was not Lebanese. In disbelief the drivers always ask, “Where are you from?” I would often say that I was from Italy, where my family comes from despite the fact that I was born in New York City. Frequently they would respond by saying, “Pizza! Macaroni!”, to which I would say, “Pizza! Macaroni!”. Sometimes I would be with a driver who spoke Italian or who had been to Italy, and if they spoke English they would tell me how much they loved Italy, Italian food and Italian soccer. Lebanon is filled with Roman ruins and there are many similarities in these two Mediterranean countries.
Seat Selection, Multi-tasking and Other Pleasures
I quickly learned to prefer the front seat to the back seat. In the front you had a better view of the sights and wouldn’t have to move around. If you were in the back seat you might have to move over to let passengers in, especially since passengers always got in on the passenger side of the car. The worst was being in the dreaded middle seat in the back - they often squeeze 3 passengers in the back seat.
Often “service” drivers eat, drink, dispense change and talk on their cell phones while driving. And they might smoke as well! And if the driver isn’t smoking, there is a good chance that one of the other passengers is. There is also the driver’s very animated running commentary on other drivers and on the frequent traffic jams. The Lebanese have a very interesting way of driving and recently a Lebanese friend told me that for many drivers, the white lane markings indicate where the center of you car should be instead of the boundaries of a traffic lane.
One recent rainy morning I was squeezed in the back seat of an ageing Mercedes, fortunately not in the middle, with two other passengers. There were also umbrellas, purses and brief cases. After a while some rain started dripping in through the roof. The driver used one hand to drive and the other to clear the fog off the windshield!
It’s a Small World After All
Twice in one week I got the same driver on my way to work. I recognized the newer car, not a Mercedes, from the Christian shrine on the dashboard (flowers, crucifix, pictures and a miniature Bible). The second morning when he picked me up he said, “Didn’t I just pick you up yesterday morning?”. We had spoken in English the previous morning. On another morning I got in the back seat, the front seat was already taken. The front seat passenger who was puffing away on a cigarette looked exactly like Ringo from the Beatles. I kept staring at him through the side view mirror, amazed at his resemblance to Ringo and secretly hoping that my glaring looks and throat clearing would convince to at least blow his smoke out the window. He just glared back at me and continued to smoke. That afternoon I went to Mi-Chaud, one of my local places for lunch near work and there sat ‘Ringo’. We looked at each other with that moment of recognition and then both turned away when we realized the connection. Beirut can be a small world.
Free Tours and More
One day when I got into a “service” to go to work, there was a man in the front seat from the security forces. They wear grey camouflage uniforms and look like soldiers. I was used to slight detours when taking a “service” but this time the driver started heading in the completely opposite direction of where I wanted to go towards Hotel Dieu de France Hospital. I finally said, “Hello, excuse me, where are you going?”. The driver and passenger were both surprised to hear me speak English, as they assumed I was Lebanese. The driver explained that the guy in the front seat was late for work and that he would take me where I wanted to go after he made this stop. I thought to myself, 'Excuse me, but why did you pick me up if you knew you were going in the opposite direction?' The guy in the front seat didn’t realize I understood enough Arabic to understand his remark to the driver that if I wanted to go somewhere directly I should have taken a taxi. I wanted to tell him that the same applied to him but kept silent. After letting off his passenger, the driver got lost and gave me a very nice tour of Beirut. I arrived at work 15 minutes late.
One evening when I was heading home from my gym the driver asked me in Arabic if I wanted a lady. I think he supplemented his income by procuring lady ‘friends’ for his lonely male passengers. Another day the driver agreed to drop me near my home but when he picked up 3 other passengers who wanted to go to the ABC Shopping Mall located a bit further from my home, he decided not to drop me off where I asked him to. He told me that if I wanted to go to a specific place I should take a taxi.
These rides provide me with endless opportunities to learn about Beirut and Lebanese culture and get me from point A to point B in a very colorful way.
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