On the road… again

The moment I spied the schoolgirls I knew what they were up to. They were at the kerb, eyes fixed vacantly somewhere in the middle distance and not watching the traffic, or even where they were going.

Yep, it was obvious they were going to cross the road.

Then, once they'd embarked on their mission they'd stop somewhere on the road, face the opposite direction and realised that that was the direction all those pesky cars were coming from.

And it's always a surprise; even if it's the road they cross every single day. It's like watching people trapped in their own Groundhog Day, doomed to relive their experiences until they learn to play the piano and woo Andie McDowell.

Strangely enough it's not confined to the youngsters – the meek inheriting the earth – but the oldies have their own approach. They pretty much continue on their stubborn way, with the cars, bikes, or whatever deftly weaving around them as if their age granted them ownership of the road.

Although my life pretty much consists of a 6x6 city block world, I feel I've got the entire Shanghai traffic situation sorted. Well, sorted to the point I have no intention of getting behind the wheel of anything smaller than a monster mining truck. Basically, if I can't crush I'm not interested.

My usual vantage point to view this odd urban ballet is the front seat of a taxi. This just happens to be one of the least desired positions on the Shanghai roads. However given the choice of that or the back seat, where a little screen blasts the crappiest ads at your face less than a metre away and an off button that's only for show, I'd take the 'view point of death' any time.

The taxi journey usually starts the same way: I reach over to put my seatbelt on, which usually elicits a no need from the driver – as if I was offending his driving prowess. I shrug, smile and inform him it's a habit. And then the real fun begins.

It's as if a film begins to play out in front of me, an unseen director had just yelled 'action!' and the actors come alive, around our careening car. (Oh and by the way, that's one of the standard Shanghainese driving styles – with others being lurching and crashing.) And let me tell you, it's a film specifically created to have you clutch your seat involuntarily, while you struggle to suppress the scream climbing up your throat.

You watch the pedestrians wander across the street wherever and whenever they like, occasionally stopping on the white lines between lanes as if these were what those little strokes were made for. There's nothing apologetic in these crossings as the people's roads belong to the people – regardless of mode of traffic.

It would be worse mind you without the metal barriers alongside the busier roads restricting them. These fence the pedestrians in like livestock but as it is, there are less points where a wanderer will take to a-wandering. And as I'm always fond of saying whenever there's a lull in the conversation: If you're going to act like livestock, you're going to get treated like livestock.

Then there are the bike riders of both the manual and motorised variety, who seem to enjoy tearing out of laneways and onto the road without a second glance. They'll cruise across an intersection whenever an opportunity arises, or whenever they become bored, or whichever comes first. This will even happen when a taxi makes a dash for the lights – because as we all know amber screams 'faster'.

That of course is when they're on the road as the footpath, as well as being inappropriately named, is really just another lane and naturally there's no need to slow down. That would just be silly.

Silly also comes to mind when you see a car stop in the middle of the road because the driver has suddenly found themself in the left lane with a desire to turn right. Obviously, regardless of the traffic, they'll cut across all the lanes to correct their error. Even if the road in question happens to be a highway.

These expressways are also places where motorists may stop on entering to check their bearings, or even in their lane to do a spot of text messaging. My personal favourite was witnessing a guy reversing the length of a few metres down the expressway as he had just missed his turn-off to the airport.

Parking does seem to be issue here as there isn't a great deal of it and what there is is being desired by an increasing number of motorists. So inevitably every trip requires detours around cars and trucks parked randomly – and you would even think illegally. Yes, you would think.

There is always a degree of efficiency in these parking locations as right out the front of where you want to go is where you want to park. So as a result, a school pick up usually results in a cluster of cars triple parked just outside the entrance and confused parents wondering why the trail of cars stretching down the road appear to be angry at them.

However the most ideal place that most people have decided to park is a pedestrian crossing. I mean, why not? The footpath gently slopes to the road, granting wonderful access to your passenger and it's usually unoccupied – unless someone else had the idea before you. Anyway, these white stripes are really only there to decorate the road, as most big cities seem to have them, and as nobody recognises the crossings as crossings we might as well park there.

And speaking of coming to a sudden stop, taxis do so wherever they're hailed. Middle of the road? Sure. Busy intersection? Why not. That doesn't seem to work with the buses but that's only because they have their designated stops.

As size equals power on Chinese roads these bad boys are the undisputed heavyweights and are all too happy to remind you. If they want your lane they'll take it, even if there's only enough room for an infant to crawl through. These are always best left alone as nothing good has ever come out of tackling a bus. They spend their time bulldozing everything in their path and may, or may not, honk you out of the way.

The trick is not to make eye-contact and pretend it never happened. Eye contact equals recognition of some sort of wrong-doing and even responsibility in rectifying the error. Well, that's just crazy talk so walk the roads blind it is.

Perhaps the increased traffic is a blessing in disguise, as it's harder to mow someone down at 2kph. Well, once upon a time (hmm, that time being 1989) there were apparently only 100 private cars on Shanghai's roads and now the highway outside Beijing can experience a nine day traffic jam. Nothing says progress quite like that.

What really is interesting is that as a country obsessed with numbers and being number one in pretty much everything. It's all about taking it to those that had a head start, the west, and rub their nose in supercoolgiveusallyourminerals China's success – they've scored the most Olympic gold and going for the top GDP stop.

There's one number one maybe they're not so keen on and that's the number of fatalities on the road. They've had that title since 1996 and still look strong to retain that one for a while.

What's interesting is that I would expect to see more go wrong, given the seemingly randomness of what goes on. Unfortunately I've had friends on two separate occasions be involved in accidents where they've ended up in hospital (and thankfully to recover. And every time I step into a taxi from the international airport a good distance away from the centre of town I watch my driver for any signs of drowsiness. I think my staring tends to freak them out.

You see, my time on the road has given me one valuable insight. Come closer, as it's one of those little tidbits you just can't go screaming from rooftops. You see, the traffic interplay simply reflects the greater China population interplay. There's a crazy self-centred ignorance that translates to a ridiculous disrespect towards their fellow comrades. It's actually so blatant I'm thinking of taking tour groups around to take this sight in.

Well, until the road safety education kicks in sometime in 2065 I think I'll keep using my taxi vantage point as a place to hone my Chinese swearing. Although I'm not entirely sure calling someone a 'stupid egg' is really menacing. That's what you get when you consult a vegetarian on such matters. I have to consult someone from Beijing, now they know how to swear… and eat meat.

My kingdom for a taxi

As soon as they parked themselves further down the road I knew what they were up to. They were a family of three, they were French and they were going to steal my taxi. I was there earlier and they knew that but they were positioned up-street and just like being up-stream they were going to get first go at whatever was going to flow our way.

Of course there was a chance they were going to be descent and allow me my ride but the fact they weren't making eye contact told me that might be as likely as them handing me a suitcase of cash with a, "Go buy yourself something nice," for good measure. That was pre-guilt guilt if ever I saw it.

Sure, there was a chance, albeit small, that I was wrong and to wag my finger accusingly before any actual wrongdoing would simply make me look as undignified as I really was. Let them find out on the second meeting I always say; the first meeting is only for them to assume it.

There is a certain taxi etiquette in this fair city that sooner rather than later we all learn. The first rule is that it's every man, woman, child and geriatric for themselves. There are of course exceptions, where considerate people will allow others to go first but as I have already met all seven of them everyone else is out to get my ride.

The trick to not letting this unfortunate situation arise is to position yourself higher up the road than your competitors (oh yes, as that's what they are) in order to have first pick. However, one must perform this act as nonchalantly as possible as desperation is simply uncouth.

Those unfortunate others lining the curb, waiting for your taxi just don't exist so if in the unlikely event of any sort of challenge it should come as a complete surprise. And obviously overacting that surprise is par for the course.

When a taxi is in sight you must release your 'wrists of fury', flapping your hand in the most limp-wristed, campest manner possible. This implies that your need for a ride is far more urgent than anyone else's, or that you're ready to fly. Unfortunately when everyone else employs this method this becomes rather a moot point but when in Rome, uh, slip on a toga.

Eventually a taxi does stop and when it does that whole unhurried hurrying to the car door takes place, as while flagging it is one thing, securing it is another. The same goes with charging towards a car disembarking passengers nearby. That usually requires a brisk walk towards the target rather than an all-out bolt.

As soon as the unfortunate taxi comes to s standstill you must hover just outside the door like a crazed axe murderer ready to pounce on a group of scantily dressed sorority chicks. All the better if you do carry an axe as that should hurry the transaction going on inside the car. Obviously, as Murphy's Law would dictate the more urgently you need the taxi or torrential the environment, the slower the passenger will settle their account.

Hopefully you should understand by now that one should never let a little thing like that get in the way of scoring a ride. While the current passenger digs into their seemingly endless wallet in order to locate change, slide into the vacant seat: front if they're in the back or consequently, the back seat if the front is occupied. Besides, if you don't do it there's still a chance someone else might.

Yes, even with you hovering by the door, breathing heavily, someone may slide into a vacant seat pretending not to notice you.

At that point it would be considered impolite to remove them from the vehicle as somehow it was not considered as impolite to steal it in the first place. Given that outcome you would be considered the loser in that encounter and would have to try your luck elsewhere. And that just happened to be my fate as the French family piled into the taxi that should have been mine.

They would have been residents here long enough to know the rules and the behaviour of the victorious as they looked everywhere else but in my direction. I did all I could: stared at their passing taxi as I silently cursed them and the next 30 generations of their offspring, before returning to my limp-wristed taxi waving.