Let me rephrase.
This is about driving on the OTHER side of the road. Because it’s only wrong if you can’t distinguish between right (correct) and right (side).
What I discovered at the beginning of the trip is that the road side swap doesn’t really bother my sensibilities. Surprisingly, trundling along on the left side of the road is not terribly disconcerting.
However, I WAS disconcerted by the number of things I did which showed how deeply ingrained the right side dominance is in we right side drivers…
- The bus driver mentions that an interesting road sign is up ahead. (I think it was Shag Point or something?) Sitting on the right side of the bus, I eagerly get my camera ready and wait for a sign that never comes. Actually, a sign did come but I only got its backside. Whoops, we drive on the left side, thus the sign was actually on the left side of the road. Photo op missed.
- Distracted while talking to Scott, I instinctively head toward the escalator on the right hand side. I pause. Then look down in great confusion. The escalator steps are moving towards me. Ahh. Unless I want to be a little kid running down the up escalator (which is certainly entertaining!), I need to go to the left side.
- Darkness is falling and I’m trying to find a bus that will bring me back to my hostel. I see a bus drive by on the other side of the street. It takes another 5 minutes to realize that that bus was heading in the direction I wanted. I was waiting in the dark, in an unfamiliar untouristy area, on the wrong side of the road. ACK!
- On the streets, heading towards another pedestrian. I could play Chicken with them but I don’t really know them well enough. So, I veer to my right. So do they. What? You want to play Chicken?? No? Oh, you walk on the left side! Walking on the left side has become such a habit for me that I actually get annoyed when people walk on the right side of the path!
- When I’m crossing streets, I look like I’m shaking my head like a child in a tantrum screaming “no no no no no!” Looking both ways. Again. And again. And again. It’s called playing it safe to avoid being roadkill.
I shudder to think how much trouble I would’ve been in had I tried driving over here. My right hand would be bruised by the number of times it would smack into the door. The windshield wipers would forever be wiping a dry windshield everytime I wanted to make a turn. And, well, playing chicken with another car hurtling along at 100 km/hr isn’t quite as harmless as playing chicken with another ambling pedestrian…
Related posts:
• On the tail.
• On English
• The Lies of the Little Green Man
• On Maps
• On Bikes
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