For some reason, the transition of driving from the left side to the right side of the road was never a big deal for me. My Canadian and Slovak counterparts did think, upon occasion, how hard that must have been to do. No - it was really easy. It's just the language transition that's hard. And that includes understanding Canadian - especially the cute way that they think I have, in some way, paused while speaking and immediately leap in with their opinions that they were conjuring up just a moment ago, thereby completely derailing my train of thought. Brits like to take their time during conversation - letting it flow back and forth, mulling over the words in the same sort of way as one would sip at a vintage wine, savouring each letter and phrase.
Conversations in the car between Mrs C and I have been rudely interrupted in the past, especially if we are in the fast lane of the local highway. You may think that you're fine, no-one is behind you at all. Check that rear-view mirror again, sunshine. Yes, that's a Mercedes coming up right behind you at over 240 km/h. And he doesn't look as if he is stopping. I pull over to the middle lane between two cars, lightly stepping on the brake, and the Mercedes roars by, the driver gesticulating at me wildly as if to say 'see what happens when you keep at the speed limit? It automatically puts you in my way!'. And neither am I particularly surprised to see the registration plate beginning with 'BA' - designating that the car has been registered in Bratislava. Any country road, any blind bend, going up a hill - you will be overtaken by some nutter from the capital city of Slovakia.
It's easy to drive defensively here. You just get out of the way of the idiots. But sometimes, you really can't - like being on a roundabout (translation for Canadians and other aliens: 'traa-fiic cirrr-cle')and you want to turn left, so therefore you want to be on the inside lane, then move to the outside, right? Not if the car next to you on the outside lane has anything to say about it. He wants to turn left as well, but just to be 'safe', he will do just that on the outside lane, cutting you off from the exit and making you go around again. In the UK, they have a great system, where the lanes are painted to actually force you out onto the correct exit, keeping everyone in their place. Which would be the 'proper' thing to do as we are British.
I've been honked at a couple of times as well, especially when waiting for a gap to drive into on a roundabout. So I ignore their horn and wait some more for a random mahoosive gap in traffic. It may take a couple of moments and I may be getting a strange look from Mrs C in the meantime, but I wish to savour the moment of holding up traffic. I should really name our car 'Dick Turpin'.
But of course there is always my personal favourite - winter tyres. To a Brit, these are like manna from Heaven. We revere them, but we have no way of obtaining them on the Isles - they're just too expensive. We like to blame the Man for not obtaining a stupid amount of salt for our roads, for not investing in snow ploughs, for not... and so on and so on. In this country, I've driven on snow at over 120 km/h.
I may have been drinking a cup of tea at the time as well. Which would also be the 'proper' thing to do.
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