The driversin Berlin

　　IN China, we often complain about the rudeness and boorishness of the taxi and bus drivers, and we attribute this to their lack of education. But here in Berlin, the capital city of one of the most developed countries in the world, I am very sorry to say that the drivers are no better than their Chinese counterparts.After having traveled two days from Dresden and Leipzig, which greatly dizzied and disorientated us, we found ourselves back in Berlin Ostbahnhof (East Station). Being back in Berlin was a relief, because all the way we encountered barriers resulting from the language problems and being unfamiliar with cities. But here the trouble just went on. Getting out of the railway station, we found ourselves again disoriented. We tried hard to find the right bus that could take us back to our apartments. After a lot of rushing and pushing, we found the right one, Bus 140. Happily we got on, thinking our adventure to Dresden and Leipzig over the weekend had been really worthwhile, and we could very soon have a wonderful rest. After the bus had taken us three stops away, I began to think that we had taken the wrong bus, but I wasn’t sure. So I went up to the driver and asked him whether the bus was 140 or 340. The man sat there still, showing not a bit sign of concern. Maybe he could not understand a word of English, but that was no excuse for his cool indifference. After getting off, we walked back to the station. I said I would try to find the correct bus route, but Pamela, a Filipino girl, insisted she would rather take a taxi, as it was already 9:30 p.m. So we got into a taxi. The driver looked very gentlemanlike and well-educated. I gave him directions in English and showed him on the map that we would first stop at the crossroad between Koepenicker Strasse and Pueckler Strasse where I live, and then go on to another place. He nodded, and off we went. After many roundabouts and corners, the driver turned a corner and went straight on to Liegnitzer Strasse. The car had already gone maybe one thousand meters past my apartment before I realized I should have gotten off. I told the driver that I must get out. But he seemed not to have heard me, and carried on down the street. I felt so frustrated that I shouted out “stop the car.” He seemed to understand something but he said my destination was Liegnizter. Oh my God, was I again taking a wrong taxi?