We’d been warned by more than one person that drivers in Rome are crazy. So it wasn’t a complete surprise to see scooters weaving between moving cars, drivers merging where there was no lane, and a seeming total disregard for any kind of traffic signal or sign.
But after experiencing it (thankfully, from the passenger seat, or watching as a pedestrian) for a few days, I started to notice something else.
Driving in Italy is not so much insane as it is a form of controlled chaos. It is a dance, where subtle nods and gestures (no, not that kind) and unwritten but clearly understood communication come into play. Roman pedestrians just know what risks are acceptable to take and which ones are not. Drivers seem to careen through the narrow streets always nearly missing certain disaster, but in reality playing out this mutually agreed-upon dance.
They know where to squeeze in, and when to back off. They seem to understand to whom they should defer and when they are the one to whom others will submit. The relaxed nature of the city’s inhabitants contributed to the ebb and flow of the dance. Where Americans might witness road rage over a slight incident, Romans throw up their hands in frustration and then forget about it, choosing to just let it go.
Perhaps it’s a matter of perspective. When you live your life amongst the reminders of thousands of years of history, a 2-second incident in traffic pales.
Unlike the chaotic streets of Tijuana, where in the stretch of two miles we witnessed four fender benders, or downtown Manila, where, when we visited, traffic fatalities were common, in Rome, with millions of people all trying to get somewhere at once, we never saw a single crash...not even a bump. That’s not to say that it doesn’t happen there, of course, just that we never witnessed it in all the miles we traveled throughout the city.
And like a simple waltz or Texas two-step, the dance is easy to learn. Within hours, maybe less, we had learned to discern the difference between a car or scooter rapidly approaching behind us (read that, “jump out of the way!”) and one just nearby but not on our street. We could tell in advance which of the two vehicles vying for space on the main street would emerge victorious, or which vehicles would stop for pedestrians and which would not.
We understood a tiny gap between vehicles that in our country would be considered breathing room between parked cars was an acceptable parking space to an Italian, so don’t block it!
And so it ceased to be crazy, insane, chaotic, and instead took on a choreographed elegance.
I'm trying to get back in the habit of writing every day. Lately, I've been working on character sketches. Some of those will find their way here, in the form of individual comments to this post.
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But after experiencing it (thankfully, from the passenger seat, or watching as a pedestrian) for a few days, I started to notice something else.
Driving in Italy is not so much insane as it is a form of controlled chaos. It is a dance, where subtle nods and gestures (no, not that kind) and unwritten but clearly understood communication come into play. Roman pedestrians just know what risks are acceptable to take and which ones are not. Drivers seem to careen through the narrow streets always nearly missing certain disaster, but in reality playing out this mutually agreed-upon dance.
They know where to squeeze in, and when to back off. They seem to understand to whom they should defer and when they are the one to whom others will submit. The relaxed nature of the city’s inhabitants contributed to the ebb and flow of the dance. Where Americans might witness road rage over a slight incident, Romans throw up their hands in frustration and then forget about it, choosing to just let it go.
Perhaps it’s a matter of perspective. When you live your life amongst the reminders of thousands of years of history, a 2-second incident in traffic pales.
Unlike the chaotic streets of Tijuana, where in the stretch of two miles we witnessed four fender benders, or downtown Manila, where, when we visited, traffic fatalities were common, in Rome, with millions of people all trying to get somewhere at once, we never saw a single crash...not even a bump. That’s not to say that it doesn’t happen there, of course, just that we never witnessed it in all the miles we traveled throughout the city.
And like a simple waltz or Texas two-step, the dance is easy to learn. Within hours, maybe less, we had learned to discern the difference between a car or scooter rapidly approaching behind us (read that, “jump out of the way!”) and one just nearby but not on our street. We could tell in advance which of the two vehicles vying for space on the main street would emerge victorious, or which vehicles would stop for pedestrians and which would not.
We understood a tiny gap between vehicles that in our country would be considered breathing room between parked cars was an acceptable parking space to an Italian, so don’t block it!
And so it ceased to be crazy, insane, chaotic, and instead took on a choreographed elegance.