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There are taxis all over central Paris. Maybe not as many as in New York City, but certainly enough to get around comfortably without the Metro.

The way it works is you’re supposed to get them at designated taxi stands, which you can find every few blocks on major streets such as Blvd. St. Germaine, Champs Elysee, the Rue de Rivoli. Occasionally the taxi lines are long and there’s a wait. Usually this occurs at tourist attractions, during rush hour and when it’s raining.

I was told you're not to flag down taxis. I did successfully. They just aren’t allowed to pick up customers 50 meters from a taxi stand.

Another acceptable way to get a taxi is by having your concierge or hotel clerk call a cab company to come pick you up. The downside of this is that the meter starts running from the point where the taxi was dispatched, in addition to wherever they’re going (which they don’t do in New York).

The fare is approximately the same as New York City, around two euros to get into the cab. The meter tabulation is also similar to the Big Apple. However, they have a 5.5 euros minimum, so if you don’t have to go far, you still have to shell out 5.5 euros!

Tipping doesn’t seem to be as big a deal in Paris as it is in New York City. If you give the driver 10%, he’ll probably be happy and may even say Merci. I've been told by Parisians not to bother tipping if the driver is rude. This led to my disappointment when I found that the old cliché about Parisians not wanting to speak English to be somewhat true, at least when it came to the taxi drivers. Some don't or won't even try. When I attempted to say some words in French, a few drivers still couldn’t understand me. Then again, maybe the problem was my New Yorker's French pronunciation.

The language problem escalated into major drama when the first driver in a taxi stand actually made fun of me! "Je ne comprend pas. Tower L' Eiffel! Speak French dans (in) Paris,” he exclaimed when I tried to tell him I wanted to go to the area near the Eiffel Tower, where the boats start from, going up and down the Seine River. In a rush to make the eight-thirty cruise, I ignored his obnoxious attitude and attempted again to tell him my destination. I even tried using hand signals.

Laughing and shaking his head, he rambled on to some onlookers sitting on a bench at the taxi stand, something about my poor communication skills. They didn't show any sympathy, but at least they weren’t laughing along with him. Remembering I was in a foreign country and not in my native New York where I would have wiped the floor up with this guy (throwing a few curses at him while hoping he wouldn’t shoot me), I chose to ignore him instead. I walked over to the second driver on the taxi line.

This driver understood where I wanted to go, but told me he couldn't take me because the taxi before him (the obnoxious dude) had to leave first with a customer – Paris taxi protocol! Trying to stay calm so I wouldn't get dragged away by the Paris police, I walked half way up the block and came back to happily see both taxis with customers getting in. The driver in the third cab who was now first in line was not only kind, but also understood English. "Merci mon Dieu!" That means Thank God in French – I think.

I finally figured out that the best solution to this whole language problem with Paris taxi drivers is to know the exact address where you're going. Don’t be vague. Writing it down on a piece of paper is helpful.

In truth, it wasn't all that bad. I have to admit that despite a well-known rumor that most Parisians can speak English and just pretend to not understand, at least half the drivers did attempt to communicate, at least a little. And when they did, I rewarded them generously with a huge New York City tip in my one-woman campaign to reform Paris taxi drivers.