Driving in India

Happy New Year to all my blog readers! My wish is for good health and good food for all. I’ve taken quite the hiatus from my blog due to being in Beaverton for one month over the holidays. When we returned to Rome mid January, we were barely there a week when we had to hit the road again, this time to Dubai and India. So, though my blog is entitled IreneinRome….I am actually in India at the moment, and I’ve decided to write a bit about India and hope that you will find it interesting as well.

Dubai was vaguely interesting. Yes, there are modern architectural wonders, but really it is like being in Las Vegas; fancy hotels, lots of shopping, but no gambling. The downturn in the economy has certainly affected Dubai, and its’ gajillions of construction cranes seemed to be stopped mid-project. I was able to have coffee on the 27^th floor of the 7-star hotel that is shaped like a sail. There was a stunning sunset view, but unfortunately, it cost me US$25.00 for two cappuccinos. Enough said about Dubai.

On to India which is always interesting to me. There may be parts of India that are supremely dirty, have huge issues with the disparity between the rich and poor, and bear many problems with their infrastructure, but it is always fascinating to me. The people are so kind and sincere, the food is phenomenal, and the cultural differences never cease to amaze me.

Driving in India is an adventure to say the least. No, I am not driving here, and neither is Dennis. The company provides a driver, for which we are most grateful. Without the skills of a native (I was going to say “professional” but changed my mind to “native”.) driver, we would have been road pancakes long ago. Carston and Drew have experienced driving in India and can attest to the excitement/danger of it. We had to go visit Dennis’ hydro dam project which is in the middle of nowhere in a place called Maheshwar. Our flight from Delhi arrived to the nearest big city, Indore (yes, you can start humming the theme from Star Wars now…I always do.) at night, so we had to make the two and a half hour drive to go a mere 70 miles, on treacherous roads late at night.

The car shares the road with a much wider variety of modes of transportation than a car in the US. We are dodging not only other cars, but cows pulling carts, plain old cows just wandering around, bicycles, motorcycles and much more. Stray dogs must be honked out of the way, many of them hobbling on three legs as they’ve already had run-ins with cars and know better a little too late. There’s the occasional elephant coming home from work, or camel tugging a heavy load which really causes traffic to slow.

Seatbelts, and indeed seats in general are not mandatory here. Many three-wheeled “taxis” meant to hold two passengers regularly carry six. The driver can up the fare a bit for more passengers, and the passengers can then share the fare making it cheaper for them. Small SUV type vehicles are popular here and I think when the boys were visiting last year, we counted 11 people in one…..or was it 15? Regardless, you get the picture. Not only are 6 people squished into the space 3 should occupy, but the back door is hanging open and people are hanging on by their fingernails.

Unfortunately, nighttime means truck time, and the roads are simply full of them. They drive with their brights on, and I have to close my eyes as they approach. I can only hope my driver is not doing the same. Motorcycles regularly carry families of four. It seems a sedan is not needed until you bear your third child. Women ride side saddle only, colorful saris blowing behind them. The youngest child is clutched by the mom and sandwiched between her and the husband driver. The oldest child gets to ride atop the gas tank in front of the father. No helmets of course, except sometimes for the dad. Sigh.

Indian drivers drive with their horn. As they approach a vehicle they want to pass, (and they want to pass everyone and everything) they lay on the horn to warn the car ahead of their intent. They lay on the horn if any person approaches the side of the road. Considering we are screaming through tiny villages at the equivalent of 55 mph in a spot that would be 25mph in the US, I guess this is a nice courtesy. They lay on the horn to warn off bicycles that of course have no lights, and also to ward off the familial motorcycles. They needlessly lay on the horn as they approach a cow. Cows move of their own accord. Horns mean nothing to a cow. After awhile, a person could go insane and be driven to violence listening to this horn. It’s not as though you want to reach through the drivers’ mouth and back out through his belly button and grab the horn from the steering column and pull it back out through his body or anything like that…….but almost.

Lines mean nothing to the Indian driver. I’m not sure why they bother to paint them. I guess it gives someone a job. The road we are on is pretty much two lane, so all passing must be done against oncoming traffic. Drivers on both sides constantly drive off the road onto the shoulder dirt (versus the actual road dirt) to avoid each other. When we came to a railroad crossing with its’ barrier down, an amazing thing happened. All the drivers on our side of the barrier took over all lanes on both sides of the road trying to be the first one through when the barrier went up. Unfortunately, all the drivers on the opposite side of the barrier did the same thing. Guess what happened when the barrier went up? Nothing! Because no one could go anywhere! It took a while to untangle that Gordian knot. And they all blew their horns at each other while trying to maneuver as if that would help! Dennis and I just roll our eyes. This is why though we sometimes scream along at 80mph; it takes us 2 ½ hours to go a mere 70 miles. That and getting stuck behind a cow, camel or elephant.

We only had 3 near misses. One was versus husband and wife on a motorcycle. When I saw their headlight dead center oncoming, I threw my jacket over my head and held on. The screech of tires matched my little scream, but somehow, somehow, that motorcycle managed to remain upright. We did not hit it, and the sari wearing, side saddle riding woman on the back stayed on. Amazing.