Driving, sort of.

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Ni hao!

It’s Sunday afternoon, but here in China, everyday seems to be Sunday. And Monday. Nothing changes much between the two. For instance, this morning the hammering and sawing began next door at just after 7 am, like it has every day for a week. The apartments on both sides of ours are being renovated. The walls are made of brick, covered in plaster so it gets noisy, for a long time, when someone decides to remove a wall. The dust goes everywhere and the bricks all get stacked outside the door, for reuse. For all I know, all these bricks have been used a dozen times.
Buildings don’t appear to last long around here. As Sean and I have begun looking for apartments, people warned us away from old places, those built before say, 2000. Our apartment was built just a couple years ago and already renovations are occurring all around. I heard that Chinese don’t care to maintain stuff, they just build it again. But it gives me a bit of pause living in the fifth floor of a 19-storey building, because amid the brick, I haven’t seen any steel. Like rebar, the standard steel we Americans put in nearly everything concrete. Not a good place to be in an earthquake.
I told Sean that I considered going out and telling the crew to knock off the noise until 8am but there’s really no point. One, they wouldn’t get what I meant and two, they’d probably not understand the underlying reason. Everything in China is loud. All the time. Even little things like electric scooters that people ride everywhere. While they don’t spew exhaust everywhere, their brakes have the harshest ear-shattering squeak I’ve ever heard. Raybestos could make some serious money if they could ever get mechanics to use quieting compound when they replace brake linings. But I’m not holding out because these squeaking brakes substitute for horns. People who drive anything on wheels learn quickly to use horns, bells or brakes as signaling devices. They’re not meant maliciously, but as a device to say “I’m here.” I use the bell on my bike all the time and as I walk, have become attuned to the constant signaling going on around me. In a place this crowded, it makes sense to use ears instead of eyes. Saves on sore necks. Besides, I need my eyes to see what’s ahead.
Cycling around town has required I learn new driving habits. In addition to the bell, there’s a whole new traffic pattern. The law seems to be “If you can fit, do so.” That means taxis driving in the wrong lane, just because it is empty. Or approaching an intersection, forget yielding, just go in front of the oncoming traffic, as long as there is space. Or you can make space. Everyone else has brakes, too. Why not make them use them? The “me first” strategy works at intersections as well, as drivers cut for the inside curb of a turn instead of staying wide. It’s a little unnerving, but I’m getting the hang of it.
That said, there are accidents all the time. On my bike the other day, a woman cut me off as I tried to pass on the left and we hooked handlebars. That pushed me next to a curb and I had to put my foot down, having not become accomplished enough to just hang steady. She kept going, reminding me of another rule, that of ‘just keep going.’ This applies to car drivers as well and they’ll apply the rule even if it means jamming traffic in every direction. I’ve seen thirty cars get stopped because one guy turned and blocked traffic instead of waiting. Cars have their share of collisions as well. There must be drivers ed classes but of the times I have ridden with a few unnamed people, I found their skills shocking. Apparently, about all you need is money enough to buy a car and you can go about blocking traffic all you want. Crazy, but that’s China.

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