Taxi Drivers: The Island’s Real Economic Barometer

By Tom Clifford

There are various economic bellwethers, GDP growth, borrowings, energy usage, but my most reliable is to inquire about the economy with those whose job it is to transport us. Taxi drivers. This is my where the rubber meets the road. They are the best barometer of economic activity; if they are busy, chances that the economy is doing well. People have money to spend, disposable income. If they are struggling, then the chances are the economy is not performing with all pistons firing. They are also great entertainers and good readers of humanity. They can crack a joke to ease any possible tension with their passenger and they almost instinctively know whether to engage in conversation or not.

Where I currently reside in Nettle Bay does not have, how shall we say, a public transport system that abides by a printed timetable. Randomness, chance, luck are its chief and unreliable characteristics.

You may get a lift…then again… This has its advantages. The 70-minute trek into Marigot rewards the rambler with many delights, not least the cheerful greetings bestowed by other walkers along the way. But the lack of scheduled services is an aspect of life that has to be taken into account. Impulse must be tempered. I cannot promise someone that I will meet them on the Marigot waterfront in 20 minutes if I am still at home washing up.

Time has to be managed with the humbling realization that I am not the master of my destiny, certainly if that same destiny is to get into the charming and beguiling surroundings of Marigot quickly.

But the situation changes dramatically in my favor after arrival. Destiny has a new master as I plan my departure. I have a choice of taxis on the waterfront. The drivers are chatting round a table near the open-air market no doubt discussing great dilemmas of philosophy. They will readily oblige to deliver you to your destination for the transaction of certain paper monies backed by either the US central bank or the EU equivalent.

And this is my hidden secret pleasure. Chatting with the drivers uncovers a spectrum of opinions and interest that can be educational, funny and insightful. There is one, let’s call him Jojo, who, like me, is an Arsenal supporter. He broke up with his partner who, he claims, destroyed his collection of football shirts. As tear-inducing as this is, we both broke out in laughter.

There is another who informed me of the fauna on the island. One other expressed, with an admirable perception, that not enough was being done for the young people. There had to be, she said, other outlets for their creativity than the tourism industry. These conversations were of course carried out in English. The only language I speak. But it was just one of the languages the taxi drivers spoke. It was a privilege to hand over 20 euros after spending time in their company.

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Previous columns by Tom Clifford:
BBQ chicken & ribs in Grand Case
Amuseum Naturalis at The Old House
Rain coming
Boat trip
Cruise Ships In But No Tourist Spending
Marigot Walk
The Biting Truth About Paradise: Mosquitos!
A Tale of Two Cities: Marigot and Philipsburg
A northern side apple tart
Taxis & Buses