Road Rage
I am someone for whom one of the great benefits of expat life is that I have a driver. While confident driving in London (perhaps wrongly), the thought of driving in Asia petrifies me.
In Thailand, Jamie drove at weekends once we mastered our routes and much of the stress of driving was relieved by the fact that everywhere has valet parking or huge underground carparks. The principal threat came from the corrupt traffic police who, sensing easy game, would regularly pull over foreigners and issue tickets on spurious reasons. A popular topic of conversation among expats was how much you could bargain the price of the tickets down.
In China, foreigners are not allowed to drive without obtaining a licence. This can be done the hard way by passing an excessively complicated driving test full of convoluted rules which are never actually observed; or the easy way by obtaining a fake licence or bribing an official to give you one. The insurance to drive as a foreigner, is, however, prohibitive and when we took pity on our driver and let him off at weekends, we took taxis which in Shanghai, are cheap and plentiful and whose drivers are, for the most part, very good at not fiddling the meter for foreigners. Even I mastered taxi Chinese and would happily jump into them, prompting Eliot to ask while waiting for a bus in London, why we didn't just take a taxi.
It is an often reported fact that nowhere in the world are there as many fatalities on the road as in India. It does not take more than a couple of outings on the road before you accept this as an article of faith and wonder why, in fact, the death tole is so low, especially as seatbelts are never worn and there are usually far too many people in each vehicle with several children bouncing around, unsecured in the front and back. I once saw a rickshaw taking 11 children to school (at most they are supposed to carry four people).
Jamie and I spend most of our journeys when Jamie is driving, trying to work out what the road rules are supposed to be. Nowhere is this more puzzling than when going over a roundabout. New Delhi, beautifully laid out by Edwin Lutyens, features a huge amount of roundabouts. It is probably twinned with Milton Keynes. One of our friends, frustrated by trying to do business in India has made a list of 'things India does well' to encourage him when he is feeling down. Top of the list is roundabouts. They are plentiful and always (in New Delhi at least) adorned with beautifully kept flowers and trees. Unfortunately, something the Indians do not do well is navigate them.
When do you have right of way on an Indian roundabout? Essentially, when you are in front. Do not give way, do not pass go (absolutely no chance of that if you do give way), do not collect £200. Side mirrors on vehicles seem to be there purely for decoration in much the same way as the stickers and models of gods and saints which adorn the taxis. Occasionally check your rear mirror but when push comes to shove literally, if you are a nose ahead, you are king of the road. Size no issue. Of course, there is an exception to every rule and it must be said that buses are a law unto themselves. Crammed with people, some more out than in, the buses pick up speed only when they are in danger of being passed by a larger vehicle and on corners which they take at maximum pace careless of the cyclists and rickshaws who are batted to the side like the flies the passengers are swatting.
On one extraordinary occasion, Jamie and I had taken to the road with the kids early in the morning. Delhi does not do early mornings. We were driving down a main road with no more than two other cars in sight. Suddenly, out of nowhere, one of the two cars started to weave violently across the road, and like a guided missile seeking out a fast moving small target, smashed into the other car and careered off the road. In an astonishing piece of good fortune he happened to find the only stretch of road in Delhi with a soft verge. Most roads are lined with concrete barriers, shops, cows and people but this time, the driver was lucky and he drew to a gentle halt in a ditch. We waited long enough to make sure everyone was alright but not long enough to find out what on earth had happened to make the driver lose control.
Yesterday we were driving home and Jamie suddenly hit the horn long and loud. I was just about to berate him for excessive use of horn when I did a double take. A rickshaw was driving straight at us going the wrong way up a dual carriageway. I have also seen a guy in a disabled cart (a cross between a bicycle and a wheelchair) going the wrong way up the road straight into oncoming traffic.
A further road hazard (more for them than for us) are the small children selling flowers or magazines or simply begging. They weave in and out of the traffic lights , sometimes performing break dancing type acrobatic routines, and mostly, manage to scamper out of the way when the lights change. I feel sure though that some of them never make it back to the kerb. Cows and stray dogs are also obstacles to be negotiated. If you are unlucky enough to encounter an elephant on a busy road, you get stuck for some time.
Everywhere you drive, there are road signs warning that "speed thrill but also kills". They are unheeded. Nowhere in the world have I had so many near misses. (and in fact, one prang ) Sharp intakes of breath accompany each swerve in front of the car by cheeky rickshaw drivers. Jamie drives along with his hand permanently on the horn in true Indian fashion on a one man mission to teach the Indians to drive. Thank goodness we have a driver.
In Thailand, Jamie drove at weekends once we mastered our routes and much of the stress of driving was relieved by the fact that everywhere has valet parking or huge underground carparks. The principal threat came from the corrupt traffic police who, sensing easy game, would regularly pull over foreigners and issue tickets on spurious reasons. A popular topic of conversation among expats was how much you could bargain the price of the tickets down.
In China, foreigners are not allowed to drive without obtaining a licence. This can be done the hard way by passing an excessively complicated driving test full of convoluted rules which are never actually observed; or the easy way by obtaining a fake licence or bribing an official to give you one. The insurance to drive as a foreigner, is, however, prohibitive and when we took pity on our driver and let him off at weekends, we took taxis which in Shanghai, are cheap and plentiful and whose drivers are, for the most part, very good at not fiddling the meter for foreigners. Even I mastered taxi Chinese and would happily jump into them, prompting Eliot to ask while waiting for a bus in London, why we didn't just take a taxi.
It is an often reported fact that nowhere in the world are there as many fatalities on the road as in India. It does not take more than a couple of outings on the road before you accept this as an article of faith and wonder why, in fact, the death tole is so low, especially as seatbelts are never worn and there are usually far too many people in each vehicle with several children bouncing around, unsecured in the front and back. I once saw a rickshaw taking 11 children to school (at most they are supposed to carry four people).
Jamie and I spend most of our journeys when Jamie is driving, trying to work out what the road rules are supposed to be. Nowhere is this more puzzling than when going over a roundabout. New Delhi, beautifully laid out by Edwin Lutyens, features a huge amount of roundabouts. It is probably twinned with Milton Keynes. One of our friends, frustrated by trying to do business in India has made a list of 'things India does well' to encourage him when he is feeling down. Top of the list is roundabouts. They are plentiful and always (in New Delhi at least) adorned with beautifully kept flowers and trees. Unfortunately, something the Indians do not do well is navigate them.
When do you have right of way on an Indian roundabout? Essentially, when you are in front. Do not give way, do not pass go (absolutely no chance of that if you do give way), do not collect £200. Side mirrors on vehicles seem to be there purely for decoration in much the same way as the stickers and models of gods and saints which adorn the taxis. Occasionally check your rear mirror but when push comes to shove literally, if you are a nose ahead, you are king of the road. Size no issue. Of course, there is an exception to every rule and it must be said that buses are a law unto themselves. Crammed with people, some more out than in, the buses pick up speed only when they are in danger of being passed by a larger vehicle and on corners which they take at maximum pace careless of the cyclists and rickshaws who are batted to the side like the flies the passengers are swatting.
On one extraordinary occasion, Jamie and I had taken to the road with the kids early in the morning. Delhi does not do early mornings. We were driving down a main road with no more than two other cars in sight. Suddenly, out of nowhere, one of the two cars started to weave violently across the road, and like a guided missile seeking out a fast moving small target, smashed into the other car and careered off the road. In an astonishing piece of good fortune he happened to find the only stretch of road in Delhi with a soft verge. Most roads are lined with concrete barriers, shops, cows and people but this time, the driver was lucky and he drew to a gentle halt in a ditch. We waited long enough to make sure everyone was alright but not long enough to find out what on earth had happened to make the driver lose control.
Yesterday we were driving home and Jamie suddenly hit the horn long and loud. I was just about to berate him for excessive use of horn when I did a double take. A rickshaw was driving straight at us going the wrong way up a dual carriageway. I have also seen a guy in a disabled cart (a cross between a bicycle and a wheelchair) going the wrong way up the road straight into oncoming traffic.
A further road hazard (more for them than for us) are the small children selling flowers or magazines or simply begging. They weave in and out of the traffic lights , sometimes performing break dancing type acrobatic routines, and mostly, manage to scamper out of the way when the lights change. I feel sure though that some of them never make it back to the kerb. Cows and stray dogs are also obstacles to be negotiated. If you are unlucky enough to encounter an elephant on a busy road, you get stuck for some time.
Everywhere you drive, there are road signs warning that "speed thrill but also kills". They are unheeded. Nowhere in the world have I had so many near misses. (and in fact, one prang ) Sharp intakes of breath accompany each swerve in front of the car by cheeky rickshaw drivers. Jamie drives along with his hand permanently on the horn in true Indian fashion on a one man mission to teach the Indians to drive. Thank goodness we have a driver.
posted by The Heywoods at 1:17 pm
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