Day 10 - Crossing
Having spent the majority of my life in Jeddah meant that my pedestrian skill level is pretty much zero – I was not allowed on the streets, didn't drive, had no access to public transportation nor sidewalks or the outdoors except to and from a private car. There was a 5-year gap in my late teens when I lived in Manila as a university student, but that was a decade ago, and even then, it was a mostly a "sheltered pedestrian" existence when I was led around, often literally by hand, by either my brothers or cousins.
These zebra crossings mean nothing to me.
My Malaysian co-worker Azzarul and I were crossing the street in front of our office a few days ago. He was strolling.
"Azzarul, come on, walk faster, there's cars!" I yelled.
"No, just relax. These lines are for us. They can wait. Watch," he said. And he slowed down even more, exaggerated-like, as cars paused to let us pass. "See? That's the Malaysian way."
He was being sarcastic. He and a few of the other Malaysians were complaining earlier about how mad drivers are in this country, how nothing means anything to motorists, so that pedestrians have to "take back the streets."
For me, though? I really, really didn't know what these crossings were for. I never thought it important enough to even be curious about it, or try to find out.
Now, I walk with confidence, the "Malaysian way."
No wonder people think I'm daft.
~END~
This post is a series of photos and stories very creatively called
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