Let Him Drive You...

Okay, so trust me on this one... you DO NOT drive in Bangalore, your driver does. Why, you ask? Because in Bangalore there are no rules on the road--it's every man, woman, child, auto rickshaw (the yellow-topped buggy in the picture below), motorcycle, motor scooter, moped, bicycle, dog, and cow (yes, cows roam the streets untouched... they are sacred) for him, her, or itself.

The are a few stoplights, but they're not usually obeyed. There are a few traffic policemen, but they're only present on really really busy streets. There are lines painted on the roads (that are paved), but it's apparently for decorative purposes only. I've never experienced so many people moving at so many different speeds and in such close proximity. If you were to reach out your window you can touch the car, bike, or person next to you. Everything is compressed into such small spaces... the roadways are not wide enough to accommodate all of the traffic.

Then there are the horns--a constant cacophony of short and long beeps from cars, motorbikes, scooters, cabs--all signaling to each other, singing in continuous harmony. It reminds me of those trees full of birds in the morning singing their morning songs. Motorscooters (and people) weave in and out of traffic between cars, but everyone seems to know that everyone else is there. Wives, children, friends, brothers--all hop on the bikes for rides, sometimes you will see 4 people on one little scooter.

It's amazing. When traffic stops, people walk between the cars and sell their goods--magazines, fruits, balloons--anything to make some money. In fact, an interesting site on the way to work yesterday was a small girl, maybe only 5 or 6 years old, doing cartwheels, flips, and walkovers between the cars as we stopped for a moment. She would then tap on your window and tap on her mouth, indicating that she'd like you to tip her for her performance. Amazing.

Here is a picture of my current driver, Amith (pronounced "ah-mit"), as he is on loan to me for the next couple of weeks. I will eventually have a permanent driver assigned to me for the rest of the year. On my way to and from work he is teaching me Hindi (the national language of India) and Kannadan (the state language), and I am teaching him words in Finnish and the little Spanish and French that I know. It's totally cool.

Well, off to the Bangalore Expat Club mixer! Week One of work: complete. Week One of living in India: complete as of tomorrow! This place rocks.