Clues I'm Not in Kansas Anymore

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Since arriving, there have been no shortage of clues I am in a foreign land:

(1) drivers stay left, like in England, except that in India it seems some drivers go left, right, sidewalk or wherever the hell they please, even straight into oncoming traffic if it suits where they’re going;

(2) Men unabashedly pee where they want, typically against a wall abutting the sidewalk. This seems to be confined to men of lower ranking class, and it's entirely possible they don't have access to toilets. One wonders what the woman do if there really are not toilets available, though it could be they tend to have jobs indoors where there are toilets, rather than outside where there are none. That said, some Indians speculate that this could be one of the many and subtle ways that males here maintain dominance in the outside spaces -- a turf marking behavior of sorts;

(3) Cows roam freely on the streets and appear oblivious to the roaring traffic all around them;

(4) Cute orphan dogs are everywhere, lying still as roadkill all day, but the little fuckers bark nonstop through the night;

(5) Manhattan street noise has nothing over Bangalore, where constant use of the horn must substitute for traffic rules. I listened and listened today for a silent stretch lasting more than 5 seconds without horns. I gave up.

(6) In most the neighborhoods I’ve seen so far, the sidewalks are a mess. To get anywhere people walk on the street. There appears to be an ancient style sewer system under many of the sidewalks, and so the massive stones making up the sidewalk and covering the sewer probably move out of place so much that people have long since given up on 'em.

(7) Pedestrians are lowest rung on the totem pole, making intersections a remarkable hazard. There are subtle rules to waiting versus crossing traffic that I’ve yet to understand. Street signs are non-existent except in a couple major roads. Wrong timing and you’ll surely get a nasty beeping at, the evil eye from a driver, if not threatened outright by the driver pretending (just long enough) to ram you. Making matters worse, when you’ve spent a lifetime looking to the left before stepping out into the road, it’s hard to switch to looking right. YEEK!; and

(8) My most conservative summer necklines provoke hostile stares from the women I pass in the streets, as well as spitting at my feet by one man. I’m still not sure if it’s the necklines, the slightly tighter fit of my clothing, or my Western looks generally.

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