Questa è Enida

…down to Gorky Park
listening to the wind of change.

A friend’s Facebook status about Malaysian drivers made me think of how much I have to ramble about driving and drivers now that I have driven in a few countries in this block and the block next to it. So much so that my thoughts on driving  have been driving me up the wall, down the drain, in Athens and now driving me out of my mind, yours and Miss Daisy’s!

Yes I drive here in Moskva, despite warnings and all cerita seram (horror stories) I heard from expats – white, brown, colored and color-blind alike. While I may not ever come to the Daily-Gallivanting State of Enjoyment during my stay in Russia, I would do anything to keep my freedom of driving around in my own time. Having a driver is a ‘limited freedom’. And to me, limited freedom is no freedom. (How do I know I can trust my driver to keep his mouth shut about Putin and I and that fishy affair broiling in the oven?)

I have no opinion on expats who do not drive, are too scared to drive or those who have two cars and five drivers (or five cars and two drivers, whichever or whoever tickle their fancy). It’s a mere matter of choice. I, myself, like driving myself with myself by myself when my other self is away or whenever I feel like driving myself. I don’t put myself in a class higher than anybody else just because I have the courage to drive in Russia. After all, like I once said to Katya Sprague, “You can only go as far as your courage.”

The consistently terrorizing stories I hear, nonetheless, are pretty much about how terrifying Russian drivers are. Them and their terrible driving attitudes. And my response to every story I hear would usually be, “Oh yeah? Come visit Malaysia and see how we can drive you.” At this rate, I should really be considered for the highest post at Tourism Malaysia here in Moscow. Not. But of course I never finished my sentence.

People are people, I believe. You don’t drive like Malaysians just because you’re Malaysian. Russians, Italians, Greeks and Kuwaitis don’t drive like Russians, Italians, Greeks and Kuwaitis because they are Russians, Italians, Greeks and Kuwaitis. I use the indicator when I turn, change lanes and when I intent to pull over, regardless of where I drive. One may call it pemanduan berhemah, defensive driving, or considerate driving. But one’s nationality does not determine the way one drives. It is another mere matter of choice.

Yet, regardless of the language barrier, Russians generally communicate better than many Malaysians I have seen. On the road, I don’t have to know Russian to understand when they are turning right or left. They use sign language with me. They signal.

But then, how do I know if the driver of the car in front of me is Russian? For all I know he could be Joe Penny driving along Tverskaya Ulitsa looking for a parking spot nearest to Mi Piace.
Ciao bebe!