As promised: the day I slapt the taxi driver

2005, I was living in Sharjah, UAE. I had all kinds of sad experiences with taxi drivers who had no clue where to go, how to speak English or how to clean his car. I was pissed off already.

Coming back from Dubai, Rosana and I decided to share a cab. he would leave her at her place and drive me home, her apartment was on my way, anyway.

She put her things on the back of the car and we took off. When she arrived, she got off the car, and went around it, to take her shopping bags.

The driver just drove off.

I asked him to stop. I signaled, i mimed, I yelled and screamed. When I saw the big avenue approaching, I lost my cool and gave him a big slap on the shoulder. It surprised him and he stopped immediately.

Rosana managed to get her belongings and I pretended nothing had happened. He did not say I word, I did not say a word. But he could not take his eyes off me the rest of the journey. My theory is that he fell in love...

atendendo a pedidos, eu divido com voces, o tabefe no taxista...

2005 - eu morava em Sharja, nos Emirados.
Vivia tendo problemas com taxistas que nao falavam ingles, nao conheciam o caminho, cheiravam mal...
Juro que eu ja estava de saco cheio.
Ai um dia, peguei um taxi com a Rosana, minha amiga. Ela botou as compras dela no porta malas e pedimos para ele fazer duas paradas. Uma na casa dela, que era antes da minha, e depois me levar pra casa.

Depois de muito esforco para explicar o caminho, chegamos ao apartamento dela. A rosana desce do carro, e quando vai dar a volta para pegar as coisas no porta malas, o fulano comeca a dirigir.

Eu peco para ele parar.
Eu explico que as coisas estao no porta malas.
Eu levanto a minha voz.
Grito.
Grito histerica.

Nada. O cara continua dirigindo. E eu vejo que em poucos metros ele vai entrar na avenida do corniche, e para fazer o retorno ali, vai ser um perereco, e uma fortuna. O taximetro correndo...

Quando me vi sem alternativas, lasquei-lhe um tabefe no ombro. Assustado, ele parou o carro - e a Ro pegou as coisas dela.

Nao expliquei nada. Ele tambem nao perguntou. mas passou o resto do trajeto me espiando pelo retrovisor.

Qatar - taxis

Photo borrowed from http://mowasalat.blogspot.com

Foto emprestada: http://mowasalat.blogspot.com

I had problems with taxis in every single place I visted/lived in the Gulf. Dubai, Sharjah, Bahrain, Qatar and Kuwait.

The taxi drivers don't speak English, want to charge too much, don't use the meter, have dirty/smelly cars, think they are your friend and can't shut up, take you to the wrong place...you name it.

One day I will post about it. In details. Maybe I will even tell you about the time I slept a taxi driver in Sharjah.

But in Qatar the taxis were different. They were blue. Light blue-greenish. Cute. Like chewing gum. Like pistachio ice cream.

And I could not resist but share this pic with you.

Imagine how fun to live in a place where the taxis are chewing gum color.

Can't be bad, right?

Eu tive problemas "taxisticos" em todo santo pais do Golfo que eu visitei/morei/botei os pes. Dubai, Sharjah, Bahrain, Kwait e Qatar. 

Os pepinos variam. Taxistas querendo cobrar demais, se recusando a usar o taximetro, taxis sujos, fedidos, taxistas que nao sabem falar ingles, te levam para o lugar errado, ou ate os que acham que saos eus amiguinhos e nao calam a boca.

Um dia eu vou escrever sobre isso. Em detalhes. Talvez eu ate conte sobre a porrada que eu dei num taxista em Sharjah. Pois e, nao me orgulho muito mas a verdade e que eu dei um tabefe em um, em Sharjah, nos idos de 2005.

Mas no Qatar a coisa e um pouco diferente, por que os taxis sao de um verde agua super fofo. Cor de chiclete, cor de sorvete de pistache.

Como e que voce pode ficar bravo com um taxista dirigindo um carro dessa cor?

Nao tem a menor condicao, ne?

E eu, que sou sua fa, nao podia deixar de dividir isso com voce. Olha a foto. Nao da vontade de comer?

FAT

Yeah - I remember when my weight was 50 kgs and I was not allowed to donate blood because I was too light. Ok, I was 17, so what?

Then I remember walking into the maternity ward to deliver my daughter and my weight was 63 kilos. Baby and all.

After that I settled for a low 60 weight and was sort of happy with it, but for over a year now, I am on the 70's mark.

It is depressing, I feel ugly, fat and irritated.

Nothing fits me, I get so pissed of, it is not funny.

So, to change this pathetic situation I decided to join a collective online diet. Several Brazilian bloggers  will diet together, help each other, hold hands and exchange experiences. I hope it works - for me and for them.

If it does not, I hope the humiliation of posting my weight here will do the trick.

Today, January the 3rd I am 71.3 kg.

Shame on me...

Every Monday I will post an update on this journey. Please hold my hand!

A GORDA

 

Pois eh. A gorda sou eu.

Me lembro de pesar 50 kilos e nao poder doar sangue, por que era leve demais eu tinha 17 anos, e dai?

Me lembro de engravidar e so engordar 7 kilos. Engravidar de novo e engordar mais 3 kilos.

Me lembro de entrar na maternidade, para dar a luz, pesando 63 kilos. 

Me lembro de entrar em lojas e escolher o que eu quisesse, nao o que "ficasse bom".

Tambem me lembro de nao fazer dieta, nao fazer exercicio e nao ter propensao para engordar.

Nao sei quando isso mudou. A verdade e que mudou. E que ha 12 anos, meu peso tem sido 61, 62 kg. So que do ano passado pra ca, ele simplesmente pulou pra 72. E eu faco pensamento positivo, faco pensamento positivo e nada desse negocio mudar.

Ora faca me o favor! Perdi a paciencia.

Ando mal humorada, de mal com o mundo, irritada e me sentindo feiosa, sem graca e desajeitada.

Ja cansei de soltar aquele meu discursinho besta que depois dos 30 o negocio e ser interessante. Voce ja viu alguma bonita falando isso por ai?

Pois eh. Cansei de ser gorda. E para resolver essa pendenga, decidi me juntar ao grupo da queridissima Claudia que teve a brilhante ideia de lancar a DIETA COLETIVA.

Vai la dar uma olhada. Ja sao pelo menos 100 mulheres.

Aqui vai: 

Oh humilhacao das humilhacoes...

Hoje, 3 de janeiro a porcolina que vos fala pesa 71.3 kg

Toda segunda voltarei aqui para falar da barriga e das pelancas, pra ver se tomo vergonha na cara e menos sorvete de chocolate.

The undercover economist

I love reading. And I read a bit of everything. I even go through my kids teen books when I am really desperate - and I enjoy it. I read the whole collection of the Princess Diaries.

Now I have just finished reading the undercover economist. Tim Harford replies to general public's questions, using economic theories. People ask him questions about the most unusual subjects. 

Should I have a biquini wax?

Should I divorce my partner?

May I pay for my gf's holidays?

And he answers them all. Just to give you a taste for his style and witty collums ( from where he got the material for his book, I share two Q&As with you.  Enjoy:

 

Dear Economist: Why is a bag of weed always $10 (man)?

By Tim Harford
Published: September 4 2010

I have been a client of weed dealers in North America since the mid-1980s and no matter who the vendor, the price has remained $10 a gramme. I don’t think anything in 25 years has stayed fixed in price like weed has.

Dealers might have some power to increase prices, as it’s illegal, and there are some significant barriers to entry, such as getting arrested. But if I don’t like the prices, it’s pretty easy to grow some on my own, because it “grows like a weed”, even if it might not be as good as the dealer’s Cannabis sativa.

 

So how did we end up at $10 a gramme?

Sebastian

P.S. I meant to email this sooner, but was pretty baked and forgot to hit send …

Dear Sebastian,

The nominal price rigidity you describe is remarkable and unusual. If the price of weed had increased in line with US consumer price inflation, you’d be paying $20–$25 a gramme now. So I agree, it is a puzzle.

My guess is that the illegality of the market gives a push towards the price stickiness you have encountered. Buying and selling cannabis is hazardous and there must be a benefit to a situation where nobody haggles over the price.

Still, the nominal price wouldn’t stick like that unless supply and demand were at least roughly in balance at $10 a gramme. And I confess, I am perplexed. My own research, which has been purely academic, suggests that prices vary between £20 and £250 an ounce in the UK, roughly £1 to £10 a gramme. Since the price stability you describe is not matched in other markets, could it be purely fortuitous?

Whatever the reason, this could be a handy discovery. In hyperinflationary times, people turn to tobacco or coffee as more stable currencies. If quantitative easing gets out of hand, you have found a stable currency for the 21st century.

Dear Economist: What’s your approach to picking toilet stalls?

By Tim Harford
Published: August 28 2010

When I travel I am faced with a difficult choice: which of the toilet booths to use in offices or hotels. I always try to guess which one is the least used. Probability theory should tell me that all the booths should be equally used, but perhaps human psychology plays a part in this. My boyfriend believes the last one is the least used – contrarily, I believe the opposite. Perhaps this proves that, on average, all are equally used. Which one do you use?

Jan Lucan, Prague

 

Dear Jan,

The efficient market hypothesis says that stock and bond traders will swoop on underpriced assets, driving their prices up. If so, an ignorant investor may pick and choose at random, knowing that her selections will be priced as keenly as any others.

Let us assume that everyone, like you, wishes to use the stall less travelled. Can we apply the hypothesis to public lavatories? If so, you may pick any stall you wish.

But the efficient market hypothesis is not universally accepted even in financial markets, and in public toilets it is less convincing. After all, there are no highly paid “toilet traders” engaging in arbitrage – or if there are, the term conventionally applies to a different profession altogether. So perhaps there are systematic errors to exploit.

Internet research uncovers one poll that suggests that many people, like your boyfriend, head to the farthest cubicle. Another site claims that the nearest stall is the least used.

But all this is a little puzzling. Your stall-picking strategy reminds me of Warren Buffett’s comment that “diversification is a protection against ignorance”. Presumably you just want a clean toilet with some paper. Would it kill you to do a little research and check a couple of stalls? That’s what I do.

Well, I totally recommend the book. Tim is funny, witty and a great writer!

O economista disfarcado

Eu adoro ler. Leio tudo o que me cai nas maos, e quando fico desesperada, ataco a estante de livros adolescentes das minhas filhas. Li quase tudo da Meg Cabbot.

Acabei de ler o economista disfarcado, de Tim Harford. Esse economista americano, responde a perguntas dos leitores do Financial Times. Suas respostas, claro, sao baseadas teorias economicas e tentam explicar as coisas mais simples ( e as vezes bizarras da vida).

Devo me depilar?

Por que o preco da maconha esta estavel ha 10 anos, enquanto os precos de outros produtos variaram consideravelmente no mesmo periodo?

Qual e a melhor forma de escolher um cubiculo num banheiro publico?

O livro e engracado, inteligente e divertido. Eu recomendo. Se voce gosta de ler em ingles, eu copiei duas colunas dele na versao desse texto em ingles

Feliz Ano Novo!!