Two quick knocks on the door. Seven ‘o clock, dinnertime. Joining Jeroen (pilot, bright green Hawaii shirt) I walk to the elevator like every evening. At the reception I exchange a crispy clean one hundred dollar bill for a wad of filthy Djibouti francs. Pecunia non olet they say, except in Africa. Like each and every night, an important decision has to be made. Just about the most exciting dilemma of the day lately. “Where shall we eat.”. Let’s try the Indian again. We rather liked that place last time we were there, in spite of the somewhat discouraging entree. Passing the doorboy with his eternal professional smile we walk out of the hotel towards the taxi stand. There’s about five of them tonight. According to local protocol we go to the nearest one and ask him if he is familiar with the “Rue Brazzaville”. He answers affirmatively but immediately says “One thousand !”. Well well, that’s new. During the last weeks we had learned never to discuss a price beforehand, instead just to give the driver the standard 500 franc after reaching the destination. And they were happy with it. Are they having a go at us now ? “Non, 500 franc comme normal.” I tell the guy. He starts yelling at us, so we immediately leave the heap of rusted metal he prefers to call his taxi. One of his colleagues just arrives and is interested in being of service to us. But he also immediately asks for 1000 franc. This is starting to smell of a conspiracy. “No thousand, then you walk” the old khat chewer adds to it triumphantly. And as if to deliver a final victorious blow he follows up with a nagging “O you hungry people !”. I’m starting to get a bit irritated on this beautiful African evening. I rather feel like ripping off his side view mirror but discover he doesn’t have any left. He probably lost those a long time ago in The Demolition Derby they call Djibouti traffic. So he gets lucky. Leaving him behind we walk down the whole line of taxis (it feels a bit like strolling down a car graveyard) and start negotiating with one of the last in line. This one also starts out with 1000 franc, but after some haggling we set a price of 700 franc. A good start of the evening and we are starting to wonder how this coordinated mutiny came to be.