UBC July 2026 - Taxi Driver's Story

Photo by may day.ua on Pexels

As I was saying in my very first post of this series, I was not going to take two different underground lines and a bus to get back to the airport, no matter how cheap public transportation is. Sometimes convenience comes at a price, but in my opinion it’s money well spent.

I googled reviews for airport transfers and booked with Czech Transfer. The booking form asked for my airline, flight number, and departure terminal, which felt reassuring and professional. I assume that if I had booked too close to departure time, they would have flagged it. 

The ride cost 36 USD, paid in advance, so there were no surprises. I had read in tourist forums about occasional cases where drivers add unexpected surcharges or “suddenly” cannot accept credit cards on arrival, so the fixed price felt like a small but welcome layer of peace of mind. 

“Your driver will be waiting for you in the arrivals hall, or at your chosen location, with a sign with your name,” the reservation confirmation said. I smiled at that. I doubted there would be much sign-holding in a hotel lobby, but at the airport it made perfect sense.

Anyway, I found my driver, and he told me we would not be taking the highway due to construction and blocked lanes. Instead, we took a more scenic route, and after a few minutes of light small talk I asked, “So did you grow up here in Prague?” And the rest is history.

He went on to tell me his life story, starting with his father, who had been a highly sought-after chemistry specialist. Well-known companies in Germany and Switzerland had apparently offered him jobs. This was during the communist era in Czechoslovakia, when moving to the West was extremely complicated and tightly controlled, and hiring someone from behind the Iron Curtain involved significant bureaucratic hurdles.

However, his father’s parents were elderly and in poor health, so he stayed. He did not support the regime and was reportedly open about his views. It didn’t take long before he lost his well-paid position. From then on, he could only find unskilled work, and my driver grew up in modest circumstances.

When he, my driver, later applied for university, he was rejected. The reason given was essentially: “You come from a problematic family background.” In communist Czechoslovakia, especially before the end of the regime in 1989, university access could depend not only on academic performance but also on political reliability and family background.

That is how he eventually became a taxi driver, and a very polite one at that. 

Having grown up in Switzerland, I am used to the idea that academic ability (and sometimes finances, depending on the country) are the main gatekeepers to university access. In Switzerland, public universities are heavily subsidized; semester fees are typically a few hundred francs, and living costs are the main financial burden if one cannot commute.

My driver may never have been encouraged to speak openly about politics, but that didn’t stop him from doing so. While we were driving, he told me quite directly that Switzerland should be careful not to follow Germany’s example.

I had an idea what he might have been referring to, but I asked him anyway.

“You’re making it too easy for everyone to enter your country and benefit from your humanitarian approach. I was very skeptical when Ms. Merkel said, ‘Wir schaffen das - we can do it!’”

This refers to then-German Chancellor Angela Merkel and her well-known statement, made at a press conference on August 31, 2015, during the European migration crisis.

He was not entirely wrong in raising concerns, but before we could go deeper into how to “save the world,” we already pulled up at the airport.

I realized I hadn’t just booked a transfer. I had accidentally booked a history lesson with a driver who had lived it.

In just about forty minutes, I learned more about the country from this one conversation than I did wandering around landmarks for four days

It left me thinking about how many stories like his are sitting behind ordinary jobs, completely invisible until you ask the right question at the right moment.

What’s something about your own country that you only truly appreciate when you hear stories like this from abroad?

PS: In connection with a monthly video challenge I am participating in, I published something you may enjoy: Zermatt Traditions - Matterhorn, anyone?