The Taxi Driver

In Jakarta I took a taxi from the station to my hotel. The driver was an old man with a friendly face. He asked where I was from, and when I said Surabaya, he said his wife was from there too. That started a long conversation.

He told me about the city — where to eat, where not to walk at night, which mall had the cheapest cinema. He'd been driving for twenty-five years. "I know every street," he said. "And every traffic jam."

When we arrived, the meter said forty-two thousand. I gave him fifty and told him to keep the change. He gave me his phone number and said, "Call me if you need a driver." I did, twice. He was always on time.