My heart will go on...

It is in the interest of taxi drivers all over the world to make as much money as possible. In the UK, this is by charging a bombshell for short journeys and even more for longer ones; in Jamaica, where hour-long journeys can cost £2, drivers try to make maximum returns by cramming in as many people as possible. There are no seatbelts; the back seat is more of a long, cushioned bench… so nothing to stop them cramming three, four, five people in??

Our journey to Santa Cruz, about 40 minutes long, was slightly incredible: perhaps the most surreal journey I have ever made. Katy (from Australia) and I, in the back seat with another young guy, had assumed the back seat was already full. Not so. We exchanged gulps as a larger woman flagged down the taxi, clambering in with difficulty. There we were, four of us wedged into the back, the driver speeding along as is usual for Jamaican taxi men; careering around corners, bibbing the horn, overtaking on bends, avoiding obstacles by the narrowest of margins. All of it accompanied – not by the usual reggae/dancehall/rap beloved of most Jamaican people, but by two CDs of Celine Dion’s greatest hits. There we were, four of us wedged in the back, Philip relaxing in the front, windows wide open (creating a virtual hurricane in the back), careering through some of Jamaica’s most spectacular countryside; whilst Celine belted out ‘my heaaart willll go onnn a-and on…’ at full volume.

The worst was yet to come. As soon as one person got off, the driver would start looking for other potential customers to keep the total at a cosy five passengers. On our last stop, the teenager who got on was accompanied by a full size television. Katy and I, the larger woman, the teenager, and a 16 inch television, in 30°C, wind whirling around us, all to the sound of Celine singing serenely ‘How will I… oh how will I breeeathe…’ The irony was evidently lost on the singer.