Well, I will try to describe what it is like driving in Dhaka. Imagine two gigantic armies - SUVs, cars, buses, motorcycles - down to infantry, thousands of pedestrians and rickshaws. Then imagine them now forced into long columns coming toward each other, on a narrow path full of obstacles - potholes, trenches, open sewage holes. Imagine them passing through each other, trying just somehow to keep to the left but, occupying the whole road.
Put yourself in the middle of of this ocean of humans and wheels. You have some measure of protection offered by the car itself. Mine in particular has the sturdy metal bumpers and you bump into someone or something at least several times per trip.
The only real rule in this encounter with the road is "Might is Right". If a truck is coming through, it is coming through. Most vehicles fight for space, but they do manage to push through most of the times without bumping anything else. The smaller the vehicle, the more it has to give way and the more smarter it has to be.
I am pretty sure Darwin could have written his theories here as well. If you can't drive, you get driven, or take a rickshaw.
As for myself, I am becoming more Bangladeshi then Bangladeshis themselves. I now have no issues driving on the wrong side (that does not apply to Cristina who is getting close to a heat attack). I can honk my horn in Bangla as well. Negotiating these streets is a specialty art, and Radu bhai is becoming the king of the road.
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