Driving on the wrong (or is it right?) side of the road...and trying not killing any Spaniards

One of the most terrifying and difficult aspects of moving to an EU country like Spain, for me, was not the difference in culture (yes, they are not Africans. Duh.), or the language (nothing is in English. Nothing. If it is in English, it’s because you are a tourist and you will pay for the English), or the strangeness of it all. Nope. The biggest problem for me thus far was this whole driving on the other side of the road business.

When we moved from our furnished loft apartment to our house, we realised we needed wheels, and quickly. Yes, indeed, the metros and trains do not go everywhere. Of to Renault we charge with a friend who helped us through this maze of Spanish bureaucracy and red tape, to buy a car. Or two cars that is, the husband needed one for work, I needed one for the rest – shopping; going to my English classes; dragging the red dogs of to the vet and the like, you know, the little housewife stuff.

The first few weeks I was so scared of driving on the other side of the road, I point blank refused. Of course this meant the husband had to drive everywhere and between trying not to kill pedestrians and shouting at the Tom-Tom (my husband is convinced the Tom-Tom is out to get us. When we are driving anywhere in Madrid, and highways criss-cross each other - which they do in Madrid, a lot – then the Tom-Tom looses signal and tells us to execute a U-turn now. On this Highway. You can see where this is going. My lovely husband then turns into Chuckie, the crazed one), I realised that for the sake of my marriage and any future children we may have, that I need to drive on these crazy roads.

The first couple of weeks were completely insane.

When I tried to change gears, I would grab the window next to me. The ability to park completely evaded me, if I had to parallel park, I would stop four blocks further away just to avoid it.

Then I had to learn to watch out for pedestrians, since here they have right of way. That is fine, but the problem is that a lot of pedestrians start crossing the road a couple of meters before the crossing, or, and this has happened, they would just not look and start walking, so, for example, I would be on the pedestrian crossing, since they were not even close to where the crossing begins, and they would increase their speed to land in front of my car. So not only do you have to watch for pedestrians crossing the road, you have to watch for pedestrians possibly thinking of crossing the road. Trust me, this is not easy.

In addition hereto, this town is one big roundabout. I drive from my house to where I give class about 30 kilometres away, and there is one traffic light, but about 25 roundabouts. Now, the rules of the roundabout here are quite simple: you can do whatever the hell you like. If you enter the roundabout at 6o’clock, and want to exit at 3 o’clock, you are welcome to be on the inside lane of the roundabout. That does not sound like an issue, but then the other driver who enters at 6 o’clock, and exits at 9 o’clock, is allowed to be in the outside lane. You do the math.

Lastly, I have to avoid certain Spanish drivers. I do not mean to insult my host country but I would like to know how certain people obtained their driver's licences? Lanes are changed without indicating, I have seen drivers execute an emergency stop in the middle of a highway to change lanes, and for some reason the mimimum speed limit appears to be a goal. I have also seen more accidents in parking lots than on the roads. Apparently parking is not always tested when the practical test is done. Right.

Thus far, I am pleased to say, I have not killed or maimed any Spaniards, as far as I am aware (and if I have, I don’t understand Spanish, so I don’t understand their shouting), nor have I collided with anything.

One would think I have had my driver’s licence for three seconds. I have not, I have been driving for more than 10 years, but, alas, for the Spanish system this means nothing, of course. We come from Africa and this means we cannot drive. We were riding elephants a short while ago, what do we know about cars? I may just vent for a second here and inform you, my dear reader, that Algerian drivers licences are acknowledged in Spain. Algerian. Have the Spaniards been to Algeria in the past 50 years? I seriously question the logic of that decision but it has something to do with the Spaniards trying to rule the World at one point, which of course included Algeria, so now Algeria and Spain are friends. Wonderful. Why did the Spaniards not come to South Africa? It would be a lot easier today. Yes, admittedly we would have had an Anglo – Boer – Spanish war but come on people, at least I would have a valid driver’s licence.

So this means that the Engelas have to redo their licences. We have completed our classes, and now have to write the theory exam, and then do the practical. I am pleased to state that the Americans have to do this as well, therefore I don’t feel as prejudiced. Sorry my American friends. Therefore, this saga is not finished and I shall report on our administrative and financially crippling adventures regarding obtaining our EU drivers’ licences in due course.

In the meantime, I have to go, I am leaving the house in two hours which leaves very little time to plan my 30 kilometre route in order to be exposed to as little roundabouts, highways, Spanish drivers and pedestrians as possible. This could mean I have to take a 60 kilometre detour but for the sake of my own sanity, I am prepared to make these plans. Otherwise I may have to move to the Moon.