Streets and Taxis

Chinandega Taxi (Know the make of car? Tell me!)

Taxis abound in Chinandega. We’ve taken taxis several times a day and never waited more than four minutes for one. 

They have no meters—for distance or for time. A taxi ride anywhere in this city of 60,000 people costs the same—10 cordobas per person (40 cents) by day, and 15 cordobas (60 cents) at night.

The taxis are some tiny brand of car that I don’t recognize—and cram in extra riders as they go. The rule is first in—first out. So, we have taken trips to the south end of town before heading to our northern destination.

The drivers are friendly, but they don’t speak Spanish—at least not the same slow carefully articulated Spanish that our Granada teachers did.  It’s more like Spanish at 100 words per second with a mouthful of marbles. It’s a fair trade, I guess. They don’t seem to understand our Spanish either.

But when we show them the printed name of our destination—and the directions how to get there, they know where to go. Most of the time.

Sometimes one shakes his head, doesn’t know that destination and drives on.

The reason? In Chinandega the streets have no names. The buildings have no numbers. Destinations are described by distances from landmarks, for example, “100 meters  up and 200 meters north of Santa Ana church.” If the driver doesn’t know the landmark, he shrugs his shoulders and drives on.

The streets, as far as we can tell, are all one-way—without a single one-way sign. As far as we can tell, you read the flow of the never-ending traffic in place of signs.

Building owners construct, maintain, and clean their own sidewalks—some cement, some tile—of varying heights and in varying states of repair.

By my novice assessment, this city has a shortage of infrastructure—and in place of governmental systems has evolved a down-home system that limps along from day-day.

A few days ago, I read John Suk’s case for paying taxes (http://faithisntwhatyouthink.blogspot.com/). Sitting outside our Chinandega hotel tonight, I am surprised at how much I agree with it.

Tonight I comprehend John's blog. 

I doubt, however, that I will ever understand a driver of a Chinandega taxi.