Driving in India

Mason, on the Lady Washington, used to explain right-of-way as “tonnage or donnage” or, “we paint, they swim”. Such simple rules to follow when out at sea with miles between you and traffic. These same rules seem to be in effect in India with a few accommodations made for status. First, if you have a car, you are automatically of a higher class and thus have the right of way over all motorcycles, scooters or camel carts. Larger buses and trucks take precedence but must yield to cars or let them pass whenever they want. Motorcycles have right of way over scooters, etc. This all makes sense. However, when a car owner is driving a motorcycle or scooter, they appear to keep their same right-of-way status (or at least attitude) as they do in a car which gives them the right to cut cars off. If the driver of the motorcycle is also on the phone this also gives him a step up in the right of way proceedings as well, though this does not apply to phone use on scooters or in cars. Now, let us introduce the cow. Yes, this is India where the cow has right of way over all forms of vehicles except pedestrians, who are actually cow herders, who can take up the whole road if they really want because the most any person will do is honk their horn, and over the din of the other 5,000 honking horns, it’s pretty easy to ignore. India driving rules, part one.

Part two is where to drive. For the most part, they drive on the left, like the British who where here when this whole driving thing began. However, they must really like the American’s because there is your fair share of driving on the right as well. Take, for example, that you need to turn right into traffic. While most would consider stopping and waiting for a clearing in traffic, here you just proceed down the side of the road, weaving in and out of scooters or cycles if you are one, or pushing them aside if you happen to be a car, and when opportunity arises, you cross over to the correct side of the street. If you happen to need to turn right and there is a barrier for a center divide, like on a highway, you also just proceed down the edge of the lanes (or actually in the lane of oncoming traffic if you are a truck) and wait for a break in the divide (though not traffic) to cross over. At night, with some vehicles lacking headlights, this gets slightly interesting.

Part three is the horn, which has replaced the turn signal. It appears the rule of horn is similar to Vietnam – use it. Always. Just proceed to drive with one hand on the wheel and the other applied to the horn and tap it to the music. In actuality, there is some rhyme and reason to this all. Honk when you are passing, honk when someone is passing you, honk when you pass a person, camel or cow, and honk when the music requires. In a country of a billion, this means constantly. Horns are replaced every year as part of the annual check-up.

Big cars have more rights than small cars, buses are treated as cars, trucks can only go 40 km/hour and there are no seatbelts. So there you have it – Driving 101.

Big Head and Big Belly

I'm fat and famous. I actually felt by newest belly rolls giggling in the car - granted the roads are very bumpy, but that doesn't seem like a good excuse. I've been living with this family in Vidyanagar, Gujarat, India for the last three weeks and every meal is vegetarian and delicious, and unfortunately, filled with oil. And every meal I am given seconds and thirds even when I say "no thank you" and it's impolite to not eat a lot. I'm very polite.

I'm volunteering at an environmental education center here and one of my tasks is to go to the villages and teach kids about snakes. Actually, they have to do the teaching 'cause I can't speak Gujarati or Hindi, but I stand there like Vanna White and show snakes to squirming girls. The red sand boas are my favorite and I wrap them around my neck for the whole presentation and watch everyone freak out. Few people here like snakes though they eat the rodents who eat the crops who feed the people so, really, they should like them.

The thing is, most villages seem to have never seen a foreigner before, or at least not one as pale as me. I like to think their treatment of me is because I'm a big Bollywood star now, but that is obviously not the case. I am treated like Angelina is in the photos - stares, autograph requests, people wanting to shake my hand and offer me tea, and give me their seats and flowers and anything else they can think of. I was even interviewed by the local TV station today - an expose on why the white girl came. It's obnoxious. I hate it. I question if $18 million is enough for one film with this kind of treatment. I wish I got paid $18 million. Heck, I'd be thrilled with $18.

Maybe next life.