I’ve been here in the Philippines since
last Friday. It’s an amazing place in sundry ways,
but with all of its charm and interest, one element of life
here especially impressed me.
The driving is a genuine wonder. It has the quality of an
unfolding act from the Cirque de Soleil festooning the country
as a ribbon from one end to the other. The most thoroughly
useless use of paint in all the world has to be the white
line down the middle of the road. Formally, you drive on
the right side of the road in this country. But in fact it
would be more accurate to say that it is the habit of most
to choose the right-most of the various openings which might
be available at any given moment, but that being on the right
is very low on the list of factors which would affect that
choice. Drivers approaching a vehicle well into the left
lane routinely and – for all one can tell – happily
swerve to the shoulder, then to the edge of the road, and
perhaps to the sidewalk in order to make room.
The assortment of vehicles is really rather stunning.
The chief source of transportation for the locals is
either a
bicycle or small motorcycle with a little cage attached
to it designed to hold a paying passenger – or
cargo or animals or produce or whatever. Those little
vehicles, some
pedal driven and others powered by motors chugging and
coughing in protest, weave in and out of traffic, dodging
cars and
trucks and busses with amazing aplomb, using which ever
side of the street seems most propitious, and stopping
wherever
and whenever either the driver or the passenger feels
the urge
The
local busses are long, low vehicles garishly appointed,
and they too make their way with no regard whatever for
any apparent rules or even protocols. Passengers are
hanging
precariously from various apertures, and they hop on
and off with reckless disregard for OSHA standards.
If
something
special is happening which the locals would like
travelers to stop and visit, or if the municipality intends
for
you to slow for a school zone (though the traffic seldom
gets
over about 25 – 30 mph by my estimate) a set
of metal sawhorses are placed alternately in the
road half
way across
the opposite lanes so that the traffic has to weave
through the maze in both directions. The streets
are also deep
with motorcycles and scooters, and most of them are
carrying passengers
as well as the driver – sometimes 4 or 5 passengers.
Very often a little child in diapers (that is, diaper
age – I
didn’t look that close) will straddle the bike
in front of the driver and ride along with wide infant
eyes
watching
life roll up at him over the top of a set of handlebars.
Plus,
there may be a couple of people behind the driver,
one of them perhaps carrying a child in her arms.
My friend, Steve, calls the motor scooter the
Filipino mini-van.
The
larger vehicles – full size busses, cars,
vans, trucks of every size, move along in a really
dazzling
but un-choreographed
dance that is honestly rather fun to watch. The
notion that it would be unwise to try to pass
unless you
can be confident
that you can return to your own lane (such as
it is) before encountering oncoming traffic simply
has
no place
in the
Filipino psyche.
In short, there is a real sense of fraternity
permeating the drama of driving here; if everyone
were not
willing to slow down or speed up or back up or
move over
or take to
the sidewalk (such as it is) when necessary to
save that other guy’s hide, the system simply wouldn’t
work. I am told that Filipinos find it very difficult to
learn to drive in the States – everyone staying in
his lane, but nobody looking out for the other guy. Given
that, I’m not sure we have anything to
teach the Filipinos about driving!
