Trip update: Not even a week in and I've already run out of books to read! Gax. Without any fanfiction available to take their place (you have to payfor the internet in hotels! Imagine!) I shall turn to the old standby: spamming people's flists with things that aren't fic. (Nothing is more fun, I assure you. Nothing. And it takes far less time to post than to read.)

What follows is the first in a series of observations that have little or nothing to do with what I'm actually doing at the moment (that will come in one big post after I get back, otherwise it would be far to easy to get bogged down in the details). I've been meaning to write these down anyway, sooner or later, because people at home have been clamoring to know What It's Like There.


Transportation

The first thing one notices about traffic in India is that it goes on the wrong side of the road. This makes sense, when one considers the British influence, but it still strikes one as bizarre. Actually, I lied: this was not the first thing I noticed about traffic in India; it took me more than one bus ride before I suspected anything, and much surreptitious checking of hands and fumbling for memories of driving in America before I was certain of what was going on. But driving on the left side of the road should have been the first thing I noticed.

The first thing I actually noticed about traffic in India was its sheer volume. We left Bangalore in what must have been (or maybe not) morning rush hour, and it took us at least an hour (though it felt like much longer) of stop-and-go before we were able to make any real headway. “Clogged” would be a good adjective to apply to the streets of Bangalore. I've never seen traffic so dense in Mysore, but then it is a smaller city, and our bus there is also smaller. Maybe it's just as congested in places, and I've never noticed because we manage to avoid getting stuck for hours on end.

The vehicles are different from what you'd see in America as well. Around sixty percent of traffic (if not more) seems to be composed of rickshaws and motor bikes/scooters. Everyone rides mopeds, it seems, and it's not uncommon to see families of three or four travelling on one bike. Rickshaws are plentiful, and seem to bustle around the city in swarms, whether for protection from bigger vehicles or to more efficiently search out westerners to rip off.

Lorries come in a wide variety of sizes, from small, three-wheeled versions to ponderous log-carrying ones (which are probably still not as big as an American semi, but which are, relatively speaking, huge). The majority are painstakingly decorated with bright, intricate paintings, and sometimes flowers or decals.

There are a fair number of buses, mainly city/commuter buses and lumbering coach buses full of tourists (or us, now that we're on the first trip). City buses are as a rule ill-painted and over-full, and may or may not have glass in the windows, but there seem to be plenty of them. The only thing that is missing is school buses – all the schoolchildren I've seen have been either walking or riding ten to a rickshaw. The school near where we're staying seems to employ school-vans (proportioned exactly like minivans from the early nineties, half-sized) instead of school buses. These carry untold numbers of small children inside, with an equivalent (untold) number of backpacks balanced in the roof rack.

Cars make up a much smaller percentage of the traffic than they do at home, and, come to think of it, don't really attract my attention at all. There are the white ones owned by the travel agency that look like they came out of the 1930's (or at least 70's) that look really cool. And an SUV sighting is always an occasion. Huh. And now that we're on the tour I see even fewer cars, so I have very little to say on the subject. Maybe another time?

Stop signs and traffic signals seem to be less common in general, and practically nonexistant in non-urban areas. The single prevailing rule of the road is simple: yield to the larger vehicle. This seems to work out very well, and I haven't seen any major accidents yet. (Minor ones with careless motorbikes seem to be fairly common, however.) It is also entirely permissible, expected even, to cross into the lane of oncoming traffic in order to overtake the vehicle ahead of you. The horn is used liberally to signal one's presence to any rightful inhabitants of the lane, and to alert the driver whom you're overtaking. This was only scary for the first few weeks, now it's just fun. The horn is used much more here than in America, though descriptions I had heard of 'all drivers perpetually leaning on their horns' is misleading. You sound your horn as a courtesy whenever you want to signal your presence, whether you require people to get out of your way or not. . It can also mean move or make way but usually simply I'm here. As one can imagine, driving is usually a very stimulating venture, if not downright hair-rising.

Usually, though, we're in a bus, and being one of the largest things on the road, The Rule usually works out in our favor. I just get slightly nervous when going into the opposing lane involves courting thousands of meters of sheer drop-off. Luckily, Mysore is not mountainous.

If I survive this trip (through areas that are, indeed, mountainous), forthcoming Observations shall include (in no particular order):

What I Eat (as per request of Mom)
What People Wear (Ditto. Yes, she gets two requests. Privilege of the child-bearer and all that.)
Possibly Environmental Things (Which Could Actually Be Economically Motivated)
Why Slash is Sexier than Femslash Even to a Sort-Of-Lesbian (not strictly an Indian observation, but some cultural examples would surely crop up in there.)
Unexpected Things