It is amazing how diasporas of the world are so connected, and yet so different from one another, in taxi cultures. They say a lot about how societies tick.

I was in town for Christmas over the holidays and didn't realise how true this was until I tried to get a cab one rainy Friday afternoon.

With the heavens crying and year-end retail madness in full swing, cabs - something which I have been taking for granted in Singapore - were as rare as the dodo bird.

You had to telephone for one - a concept I have trouble with because it counters my idea of what public transport means, and how it should not rely on secondary infrastructure.

"But it's because the rates here are too cheap to begin with," said a friend helpfully. "So in order for the system to be cost-effective, you have to pay a premium and call for one. It's a false sense of cheap pricing, but pity your poorly paid driver. Cough up the extra."

And there lay the paradox: Because taxis here are so abundant and so cheap, and Singapore too technologically advanced for those yet to own mobile phones, cabs are being compromised by their very positive attributes. Singapore society has become too taxi-smart for its own good.

The same friend said: "Singapore's one of the few places where a taxi can get you from anywhere to everywhere and you don't really have to worry about the cost, even with the extra charges. It's a service, not a luxury."

I mumbled something about principles versus end results, but she had a point: Here, people don't have to think twice about prohibitive taxi fares that might stop them from having a late night out.

They don't have to drag luggage up and down train platforms because cabbing to the airport would add too much to the cost of the holiday. Best of all, they don't have to worry about getting ripped off either.

These little boxes on wheels are indicative of so much. Cab cultures are economic and technological indicators. They are benchmarks for political climates, and measurements of social cohesiveness and how societies evolve.

I'm not just talking about how taxi fares or the regularity of vehicles for hire on a street reflect urban development, but about how they affect day-to-day interactions.

Say you get into a taxi in Hong Kong. Your driver will probably only be interested in where you are going, and how to get there fastest, full stop. It's not that he's not interested in politics or is afraid to talk about it.

He's just, well, efficient.

In Beijing, you risk a grilling on your monthly income and tax obligations. Talk inside the car is a no-no in some cultures because members of the service industry do not make small talk (the horror) with their clients.

In Japan, a quick nod indicating acknowledgement of destination (preferably written down on a piece of paper) leads to gloved hands moving over the steering wheel in precious silence.

Where societies are in the nascent stages of capitalism, you discover that your taxi driver is a university professor who can talk to you about Wittgenstein en route. Or that he is actually making far more money than you, as his wife's Prada bag collection testifies.

But there are taxi drivers and there are taxi drivers. Who's to say that even in one kind of society, they are the same?

It's the variety of them - random entry points to each culture they come from - that gives insight to the strange ways in which human beings choose to live, work, play and get annoyed.

Back to my Singapore (non) taxi ride. I finally flagged down a cab after 45 minutes of waiting.

The driver wound down his window and asked where I was going. No, rephrase that: He told me where I wanted to go.

"Yishun?" he tossed nonchalantly.

"Er, Farrer Road can?"

"You are very difficult, you know. Okay lah. I'll drop you half way."

The sky looked like it was ready for another bout of serious weeping.

With no other choice, I hopped in, only to be unceremoniously discharged along Orchard Boulevard. I scrambled to join the crazy queue at Wisma Atria to wait for another taxi.

There were at least 20 heads in front of me. Reluctantly, I pulled out my mobile phone to call for a cab and was connected after five minutes of waiting.

The cab came in seven minutes, as promised, although I swear it was already lurking around the corner in anticipation of this artificially created demand.

I pointed this out to the man at the wheel. Surprisingly, he was not defensive - only resigned.

"What to do?" he said. "You think driving a taxi is so easy? Our life is not easy. So of course we cannot make it too easy for you. Christmas mah, give us a bonus."