Driving I.Q.

In the past three short weeks, I think I've managed to cover almost every square inch of asphalt (and sand) on Abu Dhabi island.  And then some.

I've made it to work and back without a hitch (even if one of my recent 'shortcuts' turned out to be a diversion to Kuwait).  I've navigated the labyrinth of Mina Zayed, parked in the formidable Tourist Club Area, found my way to the Exhibition Centre at night despite carrying a self-professed expert navigator who managed to direct me towards the wrong exit twice (and I made it back), and I may be the first person to find the Khalifa City Police Station on the first try.  (The KCA Police Station is rather like the Kennedy Center -- there are signs everywhere in the city pointing towards it, until you get to within a block of the bugging place).

Like any city, Abu Dhabi has its share of traffic.  So circumnavigating the block to fill up your tank with gas will probably take a half hour.  Or more.  It's not really the time that bothers me; it's the complete and utter idiocy of the other drivers out there.

So I've invented a new term:  Driving I.Q., or "DIQ" for short (pronounced like dick).

Most of the drivers here have pretty small DIQs, which is ironic considering that the maneuvers they routinely practice likely have as their goal the opposite effect.  For instance:

Here I am, 50 metres from a red light, travelling at my snail-pace of 60 kph (the speed limit on most city roads).  And suddenly, a flash of colour passes me.  Some schmuck has increased his speed to 100 or so kph.  FIFTY metres from a red light.  Classic small DIQ maneuver.

Then there's the indicating problem.   It seems they don't actually teach people here about that little lever on the left of the steering wheel.  Result?  Nobody indicates.  This may in fact be a good thing, since the few people who do manage to push that little lever up or down promptly forget about its existence.  My recommended solution is this:  when you see an indicator light flashing, don't worry -- the driver isn't going to turn.  It's when you DON'T see one that you need to start worrying.

Finally, we have the horns.  I like to think of driving in Abu Dhabi as going to an orchestral concert -- except all the music is in the key of F.  After pondering the over-usage of the car horn for several hours, I think I've come up with a theory.  There don't seem to be many musical instruments here in the desert, so people aren't accustomed to being able to make noise using some sort of mechanical implement.  Until they get a car, that is.  Then - voila! - a musical instrument at the ready!  You don't buy it?  Fine.  Test the theory and disprove it.

I'll be waiting (in traffic).

Getting a car (and driving it)

About the fifth time in as many weeks (admittedly not that often) that I had to stand out in the sun and sweat while watching taxis whoosh by, I decided it was time to re-think the transportation situation.  So I badgered asked my husband to re-think it for me.

This was probably the single easiest thing we've done so far -- renting a vehicle.  We rang Fast Rent a Car on Tuesday evening (www.fastuae.com) and were told we needed to email a copy of my driving licenses (foreign and Abu Dhabi) and passport visa page.  Well, except for the minor annoyance of trying to scan these things via a bum USB port, the admin work was taken care of early Wednesday morning and we immediately received a call from Fast telling us that we'd have the car delivered by that afternoon.  A recitation of my (newly acquired) UAE credit card number sealed the deal and by 1530 we had wheels.

Now for the scary part.  I was going to actually drive the thing to work the following morning.

I suppose I did experience a moment or two of sheer terror the previous night, but that quickly passed (well, sort of).  And at 0745 on Thursday morning I was off, and giddy with delight at the fact that for the third time in three years I was back on the right side of the road.  Seven minutes later I pulled into the gates at work, parked five meters from the door of my building, and said goodbye to waiting for taxis.

For all my fears, driving in Abu Dhabi ended up being a hell of a lot easier than driving three hours at night in the rain in Hungary, navigating labyrinthine London streets, riding a (non-automatic) scooter in Mexico, trying to keep up with the 60 MPH speed limit on English country roads that maybe are wide enough to accommodate a bicycle, or making the 2 AM run from Florence to Rome to catch an early morning flight.

And I still have all my fingers and toes.

Newsflash: "Abu Dhabi reveals cost of parking" from The National

According to today's National, "meters start in October in effort to reduce congestion and haphazard parking -- and to persuade commuters to leave cars at home."

God, I love these newspaper pieces.  They are just so much fun.  This one tickles me because the snippet on the paper's homepage implies that commuters actually have the option to leave their cars at home.  You know, maybe they could take the metro, or the el, or the Abu Dhabi-Dubai shuttle.

And they could, if any of those things existed.