Hurghada - My First KFC

Ha! I hope this title made you laugh, if you know me. Yes, it finally happened. I had my first KFC.

But that title was just to get your attention – today’s topic is my latest adventures with taxi drivers to and from Senzo Mall. I’m sure I can collect enough of these stories to make a book.

I decided I needed to do a big shop on Monday so that I had a week’s food. This would save me the bother of getting taxis too often and my taxi fare would become a smaller proportion of my total spend.

Sara had said that it’s sometimes possible just to go up to the road and see a taxi, so I thought I would try this (previously Sahl Hasheesh had been too quiet for taxis to bother scouting here for business, but it’s getting busier).

 I started walking up the road when, to my delight, I spotted a taxi. He stopped and said I should get in while he dropped his passenger just along the road and then he’d take me to Senzo Mall. I hopped in and as I was halfway in, I suddenly realised the taxi didn’t have a number. Momentarily, I wondered if I should refuse, but being British, this seemed rather impolite once I'd already accepted, so I decided to risk it.

It was interesting as I was able to listen to a bit of Egyptian Arabic and when we got to the drop-off point for the existing passenger, the passenger had problems establishing he was entitled to visit (he was speaking half in English, half in Arabic; I understood the very occasional word). Then a woman came along. The driver explained he had to drop me off at Senzo Mall (at least, I guess that’s what he was saying), and then the woman got in, so I assumed she was a friend and he’d give her a lift after dropping me off. Not really quite how it should be, of course, but I was fairly relaxed about it and was enjoying watching all the activity.

I watched the road carefully, since I keep on thinking it would be a fairly easy drive. But the next thing I knew, the car was shooting right past Senzo Mall. I pointed to it receding in the distance and reminded the driver that I was going to Senzo Mall. The woman looked at me and repeated my words as if she didn’t understand what I meant. A rush of panic came over me. Fortunately, the driver just said “oh yes!”, turned the car round and took me there. I actually think he would have let me not pay, but I felt I had got there and so I gave him the money (this time, I’d got the money ready in advance). He looked at it, grinned, gave me a big thank you, tooted his horn in a friendly manner and off he went into the distance.

And it all worked out very well, because he took me to a different entrance. And there, right at the front, was a KFC! I don’t know how I missed it last time, but I guess I didn’t really look outside of the mall beyond where I’d been left off last time. It was all meant to be!

My first task was to buy myself an Egyptian phone. I was torn between something fancy and one that was very minimal. In the end I decided I only really used my work Blackberry as a means for checking emails, texting, and as a camera, so it might be a waste to buy a simple phone that I would just avoid using (although my hatred of using the phone may have to be laid to rest now that I’m here).

Every time I buy a phone – which isn’t often – the assistant always looks at me as if I’m still living in the dark ages. I tried to ask whether I had to have a monthly subscription and whether bills would be sent to me (I have no idea how these things work!) and he patiently explained that this phone was not a landline. I played along and replied that I was a bit old-fashioned and wasn’t really up on these things, which he seemed to find quite amusing.

It turned out that, for the phone that I’d chosen, the one on display was their last one, so he asked if I minded. I said I didn’t mind, but would I get a discount (I am in Egypt after all). He seemed to find this extremely funny and he giggled to himself and politely said “No, madam, there’s no discount”. Incidentally, today I tried to give my doorman a tip for all his help over this past week and he refused it. I really don’t know how all this bartering and tipping stuff works. I seem to get it wrong every time.

Anyway, the telephone guy managed to get everything sorted for me (although the phone is still in the box at the moment) and then put his phone number in it! I didn’t like to say that I’m probably old enough to be his mother. But he was harmless enough.

I rewarded myself with a KFC, which was delicious and fairly uneventful. A haven in the madness that is my life!

I then returned to Spinneys. It seemed different on my second visit. The brand of milk had changed and I discovered a whole range of breakfast cereals that I hadn’t seen before. This time, I was struck by the inordinate amount of cheese, rows and rows of it all over the place. I guess it will take me a while to find my way around. There was no packer available today, although the guy on the till helped me, possibly because I was being a bit slow.

I then braced myself for my taxi journey back and got the money ready from my purse so that I wouldn’t be faffing when I arrived. Prepared, I looked at my shopping and realised that my handbag had disappeared. It only had my key in it and my purse was in my hand, but it was annoying. I went back to Spinneys, and fortunately, the bag was still there. Phew.

I trundled with my laden trolley to the taxi rank and headed for the only taxi with a number on it. The driver got out and started negotiating a price, so it wasn’t quite going to plan, as I’d hoped just to get in, like I did last time. A second guy came up and also started to negotiate. We agreed on 50 EGP this time and I was puzzled that both men were directing me to the unnumbered taxi. I guess I should have refused, but they were insistent that it’s always the one who was first who takes the next customer.

I got in the unnumbered cab and then a guy claiming to manage the taxi rank argued that I needed to pay him upfront. I said this didn’t happen the last time I was here, but he claimed that my last taxi wasn’t a Senzo Mall taxi. I was unhappy, but in the end gave in because I wanted to go home and no other taxis were there (apart from the numbered one who had refused me).

The “manager” then insisted that I give him a single note and not two twenties and a ten. I argued loudly that this was rubbish. He then tried to tell me that I had given him a 50 piaster note. I said I knew absolutely that I had given him the right money and that I knew all about the 50 piaster trick, at which point he backed off and said he was just showing me that he needed one note only. I should have got out at this point (I’d already said I was getting out on several occasions, but they kept arguing, and so I got sidetracked into responding, as is their ploy, of course – I am hoping my stay in Egypt will eventually increase my ability to stick to my opinion rather than sidetrack myself to looking at other viewpoints all the time!).

The manager guy showed me that he had only 50 EGP notes in his wallet to demonstrate that he took only single notes. I told him he was very lucky to have only large notes and that my small money should do as it was just the same, but he insisted and asked what the problem was. I told him I didn’t trust him. To cut a long story short, in the end, just to try to stop the arguing, I looked for a 50 EGP note, at which point he snatched some of the money out of my purse, and I snatched at least some of it back. At this point I demanded to get out of the car. Weirdly, he helped me take all my shopping out, while still arguing he had done nothing wrong.

I then ended up in the numbered taxi (the only numbered one there). I asked the driver angrily why he had let me go in that unnumbered taxi, but he retained the excuse that it was because that other taxi was there first and it always worked on a first-come, first-served basis. He asked me why I didn’t just phone my own taxi driver.

I didn’t want to say I’d only just bought a phone (since it was an expensive item that I didn’t want to advertise), so I just replied that I didn’t have a driver, which he was angling for, of course. He promptly gave me his number so that I could use him in future. He also gave me the name of someone at El Andalous who uses him (and I knew the name from the owners’ website).

However, I’m a bit suspicious that he was in cahoots with the other driver and I’m still a bit annoyed that he never said that it was dreadful that they stole money from me (instead, suspiciously, he kept on asking me how much they had taken – was there some self-interest there?). He must have knowingly let me get into a dodgy cab, despite him claiming to be a man who knew Allah. I may even email the taxi police (yes, they exist) to explain what happened and to find out whether he should have discouraged me, rather than encouraged me, to enter the unnumbered taxi.

It’s clear, of course, that everyone who comes to Egypt has a story like this to tell; it’s not a surprise and this experience is just part of learning how to navigate life in this new culture.

So, what’s the moral of the story? Firstly, never get in an unnumbered taxi, even if the numbered taxi driver says you should. Secondly, if you are suspicious, just get out and don’t let anything distract you from that. Thirdly, maybe it’s best to order taxis in advance, pay a bit over the odds, but have less hassle. I’ve been trying to do it the cheapest way, but maybe it doesn’t work out that way in the end. Live and learn!