While we agree to disagree, my husband is one of the world's crazy drivers. Something of a debonair, European, I-had-to-take-the-engine-apart-to-get-my-license French, 2 days of stubble crazy, Versace sunglasses from 1991, driving gloves if it wasn't so hot crazy. Seriously. For Didier, Barbados is driving hell and he really has good reason to feel so. Believe me.
When we moved here almost two years ago, our 2004 Passat GLX with 4-wheel drive was deemed too old to be on the road here and we sold it. For much less than it was worth, but what car seller ever says they got what they should have. Get on the road in our Suzuki circa who knows when with the screeching brakes and shoddy shock absorbers and, except for the super-rich or trendy in their Range Rovers, BMWs, Mercedes, or (for the really extravagant) Ferraris or Jaguars, there is nothing but a hodge-podge of parts puttering on the roads here. Black clouds of smoke from the "re-tooled" engines, part boat motor, part tinker toy, all kind of asthma-inducing insanity, come from cars, trucks, buses, motorbikes. One wonders in what way, with what kind of hush money paid, did these vehicles pass inspection. Any kind of inspection. Some are just hard to look at.
Though our rental car, also known as an "H" or hired car, known as such by the H at the front of the license plate numbers which gives everyone on the island the impression that we are tourists, has no kick, Didier will gladly attempt to overtake the following: slow drivers, Sunday drivers, motorcycle riding mail carriers (They drive motorcycles here in Barbados.), garbage trucks, people dropping off friends, family, or co-workers on the side of the road (or middle of the road), other H car drivers (aka tourists, probably American because only people who do not know how to drive on the left side would go so slowly )and "snails (slow drivers) who annoy him." Makes sitting in the passenger seat torture and sitting in the back of the car an exercise in motion sickness. My poor Lily gets sick at least three times a week.
But the truth is, it is annoying. Where we are on the West Coast there is one road, the West Coast Road, that has two lanes, each going in the opposite direction. So if, when, you find yourself stuck behind one of the aforementioned slowpokes, the entire coast finds itself in a traffic jam. Don't let there be an accident. Unlike in the States, should an accident occur, all parties must stop exactly where they are and not move their vehicles until law enforcement arrives to review and take measurements. Imagine an accident at rush hour that blocks both lanes, without cones, road signs, etc to divert traffic. We have lived a number of these accidents, once even considering abandoning our car and walking with each child on our backs in the dark for at least a mile without a flashlight after driving in circles trying to find an alternate route to no avail.
The main highways have not been in existence very long, about 4-5 years, so it is still common to see people crossing the highway at the most inopportune times. Rush hour. In the dark of early morning or late night with no reflectors and almost always in a curve or blind spot. Strangely, many of the crosswalks are situated just before or after the curve in or out of a roundabout. For foreign drivers this is incredibly shortsighted planning. For Bajans, eh. It doesn't matter as slow driving is par for the course and a series of hand signals, flashing lights, and basically stopping for everyone at the side of the road to cross keeps some level of consistency. Didier and I joke that a woman with a big juicy behind at 20 paces will stop traffic even before she even considers crossing. She might not even be crossing at all but just in case, everyone smooths down their hair, straightens up their collar in the hopes that she may choose to cross in front of their car.
Funny enough, I like the signals (unlike Didier who, if committed after we leave Barbados you will know why, goes berserk every time someone brings him to a halt with a hand signal a little like biking hand signals mixed with the Snake and Walk-like-an-Egyptian dance moves). I think they are sweet and hearken back to an easier time when driving around the island was like driving on country roads. Where letting the little old ladies, goats, chickens, laborers with trucks stacked with untethered machines in the truck bed, moms and children, hot chicks, and B-boys was the neighborly thing to do. I will miss car honking that means "How you doin'?" or "Say hi to your Momma," instead of, "Get the f*&$ out of my way, you moron!" I like that flashing high beams means, "Go ahead," or "Thank you," and that passers by on foot will tell you that there is an accident ahead so look for a diversion.
It took a lot of getting used to, but it is quite quaint and sweet and small town. It was nice to feel part of a little community of drivers, though the emissions test could use a little improvement.
(c) Copyright 2011. City Mom in the Jungle.
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