One of those ugly four wheel drives is parked on the kerb and I heave myself up into its red faux fur-lined interior. Deafening Arab music explodes from the speakers and I notice the driver turns the volume up when he sees me. I can’t see his face as his dark glasses cover most of it but I can smell the hair oil. The honey scented air freshener has no chance. I already feel nauseous but belt myself in and resolve to enjoy the experience. The other three passengers introduce themselves. Australians.
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