The Art of Catching a Taxi in Seoul
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You must catch it, not wait for it. This morning I saw an innocent and naive gentleman trying to get a taxi by just waving his hand on the curb-stone. He failed, of course. I saw him give up after having made several attempts of waving and calling. He realized that I was watching him. He looked at me shame-facedly and went away mumbling something to himself. I felt sorry for him not so much because he could not take a taxi as because he did not seem to understand the basics of catching a taxi in the rush-hour of Seoul.
Taxis in Seoul are as slippery as eels, and as quick and sometimes ferocious as weasels. You should not expect them to obey your beck and call like your well-disciplined pet dog. You have to catch them literally, and in order to do that you must be very alert and at the same time determined in mind as well as in body. You should know and acquire all the necessary strategies, tactics, guiles and ruses, and brazen them out when and where they are needed. Do you think you are ready? Then go out and give it a try.
First, you can do nothing standing on the curb-stone. You must step down onto the roadway and distinguish yourself among the many other taxi-catchers by going further into the center of the road, ignoring the danger of being run over by the rushing cars. Your life does not matter much in the battle of catching taxis in Seoul. The farther you go into the roadway, the more you will please the vanity of the taxi driver, and your extreme show of desperate determination can only move him to slow his taxi to pick you up.
But don't be happy too early! Before you open the door to get in, there usually is a faster hand that has grasped the door-knob before you. Another taxi-catcher, of course. The problems is that you cannot claim or prove with positive evidence that the taxi has stopped for you only. The driver can be a fairly good judge in this awkward situation, but he has no reason to be partial to any particular party. He just beams and enjoys the privilege of being a taxi driver in Seoul, the most crowded city in the whole world.
The lesson to be learned from the above case is that you cannot afford to walk to the taxi that has stopped for you. You must run; otherwise there always is more desperate, faster, brazen-faced competitor. The custom generally practiced in Seoul in this occasion is that you should run, with your hand on the door-knob of the taxi, as the President's bodyguards used to do in the movie, some distance until the taxi makes its complete stop.
Even if there are no other taxi-catchers to be found around, still you should run. If you maintain your gentleman's dignity by walking leisurely to the taxi that has surely stopped for you, the surly driver will start his taxi before you reach it. The taxi drivers in Seoul feel themselves very much slighted or belittled when they see any customer come to them walking instead of running.
In short, being desperate is one of the most important elements to be displayed in order to become a successful taxi-catcher in Seoul. You should discourage other competitors by wearing a more desperate look. And you should not stand in one place more than ten seconds. You should constantly go up and down along the roadway, and cross and recross the street, fidgeting about, anxiously looking at your wrist incessantly. And sometimes you may, if you feel necessary, try to stop one that is already occupied by blocking the way with your body. If the previous occupant happens to be in the same direction with you, the driver will let you usually get in, unless there be a strong protest from the first catcher. But only the very unkind and unsophisticated man would show any sign of discomfort towards the driver and the intruder in this case.
Very fortunately I don't have to be a taxi-catcher myself, although I do live in Seoul. I feel very fortunate and happy whenever I think of the fact that I can still afford to make my living by waiting for taxi, not by catching it. I wait for a taxi standing on the curb-stone, and I succeed. The secret of my success lies in not trying get a taxi whenever I am pressed for time. I would dare not take a taxi in the rush-hours. The long line at the taxi-stops never discourages me. In fact, I like to join it. I usually buy a newspaper from the news-stand nearby, and take time to read it. I often feel very embarrassed to find myself at the head of the line much earlier than I have expected. Later I realize that many of the waiters have simply quit the line out of impatience. I find that more people in Seoul are very short-tempered than I am, and I am very confident that I can beat them all in the waiting game of taxis.
And, I try not to give the impression of desperate busyness to the taxi driver. By deliberately slowing my pace to the taxi, I send the message to the driver that I take his taxi for comfort, not for speed. Frequently the proud driver threatens me and reveals his temper by starting his car. I don't care. I let him go without any regret, because I know I cannot have any comfort in a taxi run by such a short-tempered and ill-mannered fellow. It is a kind of test I give on the nature of the driver with whom I have to trust my precious life for a while.
Didn't I begin this essay by saying that the taxis in Seoul are like eels and weasels? If they are truly so, then you cannot catch any of them by sheer force alone. You should rather cultivate a way with them. What is plain is that you should not make them more violent by rushing them. One of the many recommendable ways is to wait with the net woven with the courtesy of patience and courage of leisure until one of them has surely come into it, and just hold it up when the right time comes. Easy! Easy!
(July 17, 1983)
Taxis in Seoul are as slippery as eels, and as quick and sometimes ferocious as weasels. You should not expect them to obey your beck and call like your well-disciplined pet dog. You have to catch them literally, and in order to do that you must be very alert and at the same time determined in mind as well as in body. You should know and acquire all the necessary strategies, tactics, guiles and ruses, and brazen them out when and where they are needed. Do you think you are ready? Then go out and give it a try.
First, you can do nothing standing on the curb-stone. You must step down onto the roadway and distinguish yourself among the many other taxi-catchers by going further into the center of the road, ignoring the danger of being run over by the rushing cars. Your life does not matter much in the battle of catching taxis in Seoul. The farther you go into the roadway, the more you will please the vanity of the taxi driver, and your extreme show of desperate determination can only move him to slow his taxi to pick you up.
But don't be happy too early! Before you open the door to get in, there usually is a faster hand that has grasped the door-knob before you. Another taxi-catcher, of course. The problems is that you cannot claim or prove with positive evidence that the taxi has stopped for you only. The driver can be a fairly good judge in this awkward situation, but he has no reason to be partial to any particular party. He just beams and enjoys the privilege of being a taxi driver in Seoul, the most crowded city in the whole world.
The lesson to be learned from the above case is that you cannot afford to walk to the taxi that has stopped for you. You must run; otherwise there always is more desperate, faster, brazen-faced competitor. The custom generally practiced in Seoul in this occasion is that you should run, with your hand on the door-knob of the taxi, as the President's bodyguards used to do in the movie, some distance until the taxi makes its complete stop.
Even if there are no other taxi-catchers to be found around, still you should run. If you maintain your gentleman's dignity by walking leisurely to the taxi that has surely stopped for you, the surly driver will start his taxi before you reach it. The taxi drivers in Seoul feel themselves very much slighted or belittled when they see any customer come to them walking instead of running.
In short, being desperate is one of the most important elements to be displayed in order to become a successful taxi-catcher in Seoul. You should discourage other competitors by wearing a more desperate look. And you should not stand in one place more than ten seconds. You should constantly go up and down along the roadway, and cross and recross the street, fidgeting about, anxiously looking at your wrist incessantly. And sometimes you may, if you feel necessary, try to stop one that is already occupied by blocking the way with your body. If the previous occupant happens to be in the same direction with you, the driver will let you usually get in, unless there be a strong protest from the first catcher. But only the very unkind and unsophisticated man would show any sign of discomfort towards the driver and the intruder in this case.
Very fortunately I don't have to be a taxi-catcher myself, although I do live in Seoul. I feel very fortunate and happy whenever I think of the fact that I can still afford to make my living by waiting for taxi, not by catching it. I wait for a taxi standing on the curb-stone, and I succeed. The secret of my success lies in not trying get a taxi whenever I am pressed for time. I would dare not take a taxi in the rush-hours. The long line at the taxi-stops never discourages me. In fact, I like to join it. I usually buy a newspaper from the news-stand nearby, and take time to read it. I often feel very embarrassed to find myself at the head of the line much earlier than I have expected. Later I realize that many of the waiters have simply quit the line out of impatience. I find that more people in Seoul are very short-tempered than I am, and I am very confident that I can beat them all in the waiting game of taxis.
And, I try not to give the impression of desperate busyness to the taxi driver. By deliberately slowing my pace to the taxi, I send the message to the driver that I take his taxi for comfort, not for speed. Frequently the proud driver threatens me and reveals his temper by starting his car. I don't care. I let him go without any regret, because I know I cannot have any comfort in a taxi run by such a short-tempered and ill-mannered fellow. It is a kind of test I give on the nature of the driver with whom I have to trust my precious life for a while.
Didn't I begin this essay by saying that the taxis in Seoul are like eels and weasels? If they are truly so, then you cannot catch any of them by sheer force alone. You should rather cultivate a way with them. What is plain is that you should not make them more violent by rushing them. One of the many recommendable ways is to wait with the net woven with the courtesy of patience and courage of leisure until one of them has surely come into it, and just hold it up when the right time comes. Easy! Easy!
(July 17, 1983)
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