Life in Cambodia

No Blinker Required

Not when you’re changing lanes. No, don’t turn that blinker on when you’re turning off a roundabout and please swerve around those speed bumps! I knew this is what my driving teacher, Mr., um, what-was- his-name-again would definitely be saying to me if he and I could communicate in the same language. Instead, we use a variety of non-verbal signals that include uh-huhs, hand gestures (him) and nodding. He is also prone to grabbing my arm, hand or pulling my pant-leg to really get his point across. This most often occurs when he doesn’t want me to use the turn signal, especially when changing lanes, passing or turning most corners. He just reaches across the steering wheel and clicks it off, as if he doesn’t quite trust me with this responsibility in only my second class. Svay Rieng Driving School has proven to be fairly ineffectual and by most accounts, requires you to not follow the international driving regulations. Just as I expected.

Despite this, I decided it was necessary for me to get some driving time in over the next few weeks before I take on the challenge of driving the 10+ year-old land cruiser that I’ve been offered until our nice Mitsubishi Pajero arrives (I’ve been told it might take anywhere from 4-10 months for it to roll off the boat). Since the old hoopty land cruiser is quite temperamental and has a tricky ignition and clutch, my limited skills in driving a manual were becoming more apparent, so my Khmer tutor suggested I check out the driving school; he said: ‘they’ll fix you up and they’ve got a janky old camry you can practice on—might be similar to the bad-start-clutch problem of the hoopty at the office.’ So that’s how I ended up in the driving school/ice cream parlor, sipping Cambodian’s answer to bubble tea (sweet milk with ice and fluorescent colored tapioca balls) last Saturday morning while waiting for my instructor. I tried to get my tutor to go along for the ride, but he sheepishly bowed out, using his girlfriend as a likely excuse. I kept saying, ‘I do know how to drive, really, my license is just in Phnom Penh getting approved for a Cambodian license…’ he wasn’t buying it. I thought, well, this is going to be difficult; taking a driving lesson where the student and driver don’t speak the same language. Hmm. Then it also occurred to me that I was going to be really driving in Cambodia and what with all the activity on the road (and my tendency to have a bit of a ‘lead-foot’) I could very well hit a small child, cow, pig or swerve off into a rice paddy or fish pond. Ok, check insurance. Insurance? It seems even ridiculous to ask. I know the answer will be no, but I ask anyway, and to my surprise, they say ‘Yes, in fact we do have insurance and if you hit something while the teacher is in the car, then no problem.’ Ok, but again, what does ‘no problem’ mean? I get the feeling they don’t want to say no as I might leave, so I get it in writing. Easy, they just rip a page out of a kid’s school notebook and write something in Khmer I can not read…for all I know it could say ‘this foreign lady is nuts, we wouldn’t insure her for anything in South Eastern Cambodia, especially since she’ll be in that jacked-up Camry…’. But what else to do but trust ‘em. Never mind that they haven’t asked for any ID like my passport, ID card or a permit (I don’t think they have those here though…). So, with my notebook-paper insurance card (the owner’s (?) thumb print for authenticity) and only my office ID card in my wallet, I get into the driver’s seat.

The driver and I start the mime routine: he motions for me to step on the clutch, then brake then release the parking break, then practice shifting 1-2-3-4-5-R, back to N…before we actually pull out onto the street. I notice at this point that he’s got one of those safety breaks on his side—sweet, I’m really protected, we can both slam on the breaks if a herd of buffalo run across the street and I panic. So we set out, slowly around the town. I can handle this, piece of cake; it’s coming back to me now. I think: let’s open her up, get this old camry going…but he’s already putting on the break, not the balls-out attitude I expect from my Cambodian driving instructor. But then we get on the main road and he lets me get going—oh, and did I mention the speedometer is broken? Yeah, I have no idea how fast I’m traveling and he motions that it doesn’t really matter anyway (true, I guess, as I’ve only seen one speed limit sign since I’ve been in country, it’s somewhere close to Phnom Penh on route 1…Anyway, I make my way, he teaches me the subtle nuances of the horn. Yes, this is quite important. Not just for anything, but for most things—children, bikers, intersections, motos, cows, ducks, buffalo etc…but not for other cars. No, not sure why but he didn’t want any of that honking to fellow drivers.

The best part of the drive was when we were coming to the end of the class, making our way back to the driving school/ice cream parlor and we came to the corner (after I was non-verbally scolded for stopping at an intersection to let three high school kids cross…) and I realized there were several downed wires across the road. Ugh, I thought “looks like I’ll have to turn around.” I begin to reverse and my instructor gets all bent-out-of-shape and motions to keep going. “What?!” I’m thinking, “um, downed wires my friend, I’m not going across that.” At the same time, a little boy on the sidelines notices my hesitation and wants good karma for the day—he walks over to the wires and just as I’m about to scream at him ‘DON’T TOUCH THE WIRES!’ he’s already hoisted them above his head and is making an arch for us to travel under. Amazing. Damn, when will it cease to amaze me? Oh, yes, only when at that point I go under the wires, automatically switch the turn signal and, denied! My silent passenger reaches over and hits my hand away—DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH THAT BLINKER!’ I pulled the car into the lot as my instructor motioned towards his watch and ‘the future’—same time next week, same place? I nod accordingly and wave good-bye.

Anyway, I was now seemingly out of danger, out of the driver’s seat and walking back home…but back to the danger of downed wires: clearly kids here aren’t taught to not touch wires that are dangling from the electricity posts, trees or laying on the ground. In fact, they’re encouraged to help clear the situation. I notice there are hordes of kids gathered around several electricity posts holding a lot of random, dangling wires as a few older men look on at the technicians tinkering away at some ball of tangled wires above them. It’s like they’ve been recruited as free labor to help install the new Vietnamese electricity that is supposedly going to save SVR lots of money and dark nights. I’m still waiting to see this happen. Anyway, I guess the kids have hope. More than I can say for the driving school.

posted by Life in Cambodia @ 7:30 PM