TWENTY-ONE: Traffic tribulations in Taipei

Special to the Advance 

July 2004

Based on what I was told in my TESOL preparation course, I assumed that my main mode of transportation in Taipei would be a motorized scooter. I was actually looking forward to learning how to ride one.

My first job and apartment were in the suburbs outside the city and I thought I could handle navigation through the moderate traffic on my way to school. I even visited the expats’ favorite scooter dealer and arranged the lease of a nice emerald green model that was going to cost me about three dollars Canadian per week for fuel and a dollar a day to lease. I was pretty excited.

Then my friend Brooke drove her scooter straight into the back of a taxi. Unhurt save a sprained arm, she was nonetheless sufficiently shaken to guarantee she would never pilot her own motorcycle ever again.

Another English teacher from South Africa broke her leg in three places and had to take a month off of teaching, with no unemployment insurance to cushion her budget. I see her from time to time in the gym, her leg in a brace, attempting to scale three flights of stairs with crutches.

As the weather warmed up and people started wearing short sleeves and pants, I began to notice nasty scars on a number of them, all over their arms and legs. One of my adult students didn’t show up for class two weeks in a row and when she did, she proudly showed off her wound, a multi-colored bruise covering half of her thigh. She pointed out the raised bumps where gravel had imbedded in her skin. “The doctor says he can’t get those out without surgery,” she shrugged. I tried to hide my shock.

It’s actually quite rare to meet a scooter driver who hasn’t had an accident in Taipei. This is because basic traffic rules do not apply here; it is every man for himself. Yellow lights mean speed it up and red lights are just a suggestion. Rear view mirrors are used for spying on the passengers in your back seat (if you are a taxi driver) or they are removed altogether from scooters as they increase the amount of space required to squeeze between two vehicles.

As a result, you may have guessed, I decided not to lease my very own shiny emerald green scooter with matching helmet, and my mother in Canada breathed a sigh of relief.

Standing room only on the Taipei subway system leaves a lot to be desired but at least the only real danger to my health down there under the ground is the air-borne flu virus circulating in the stale train air.

When the traffic isn’t moving frighteningly fast, it is gridlocked. During rush hour, drivers nose their vehicles inch by inch into intersections, turning three lanes of traffic into five. In some Asian cities, vehicles become so tightly packed at intersections that it is a regular occurrence to have tow trucks or a crane summoned to pull them back out of the mess they have created.

Traffic cops armed with flashing batons are necessary at most busy intersections during rush hour, as traffic lights just aren’t enough. They blow whistles loud enough to wake the dead and wave their batons frantically in no particular direction, like an avid sports fan in the stands.

Many times while sitting in the back of a taxi that has just cut off another driver I have thought to myself, this is no place for road rage. I know people who wouldn’t do very well in this scenario.

White knuckle taxi rides took on a whole new meaning for one of The Aussie’s colleagues when, in the wee hours of the morning, a motorcycle drove straight into the driver’s window of the cab he was riding in, killing both the cyclist and taxi driver instantly. It took him a while to get used to being a taxi passenger again but in Taipei you don’t have many choices.

Crossing guards have quite a job on their hands, wandering into traffic that never stops, to usher their young charges safely to the other side. With batons upheld and dramatic expressions on their faces they perform their duties with such conviction, spread eagled like a move from the Village People’s YMCA. They urge the schoolchildren to trot across the busy intersections rather than walk. They aren’t taking any chances.

The workforce of Taipei that chooses to travel by city bus has another challenge. Just because the sign posted states that a bus will be stopping there at a given time doesn’t mean that it will. If the bus driver sees the opportunity to get through an intersection up ahead rather than stopping for one or two potential passengers, he will take it. Your only hope is that the light will change to red and you will have the chance to climb aboard. Every morning on my way to work I see the masses huddled on the curb at the bus stop, waving anxiously at their bus, or running frantically after it. The Aussie has been waiting for his commuter bus more than once at the end of a twelve hour Friday only to have it speed by him. The next one will be due in twenty minutes but you can bet it won’t show up for forty. Nice way to begin a weekend.

The masses seem to have found a way around the lack of parking spaces in Taipei. For temporary stops, just leave your car idling outside the cleaners or the 7-11, run in and hope it doesn’t get side-swiped by a bus while you are running your errands. For longer stops, when you have blocked someone in, just leave your cell number on the windshield so they can call you and ask you to move when necessary. Oh, and don’t worry if your car is parked in the turning lane at an intersection, this is Taipei and that is normal.

Traffic culture shock to the new expat in Taipei is just part of life to the local. I had my breath taken away last week by the sight of a young man with one hand on the baby loosely strapped to his chest, a toddler standing on the running board between his knees, and his other hand on the handlebar of his scooter. It is a common sight to see families of four and five people loaded onto one scooter, all with matching “Hello Kitty” helmets. The most common way for students to arrive at my school in the morning is standing in front of their mother on her scooter. She is obviously dressed for work, in stiletto heels and short skirted business suit.

The busy Taipei streets are much too dangerous for anyone on a regular non-motorized bicycle. Pedal power just isn’t enough to get them out of the pinch between two city buses when they start to merge. So they ride on the sidewalk, along with the occasional scooter looking for a parking space.

This makes taking a leisurely walk almost impossible. Then, if you learn to look both ways before stepping out onto the sidewalk, and to jump out of the way when you hear a bicycle bell ringing behind you, there is always pedestrian traffic to consider.

‘The Asian Stroll’ phenomena refers to the manner in which most of the locals travel on foot, taking up the middle third of the sidewalk, or the entire sidewalk if they are walking with a friend, at a frustratingly slow pace. Whether you are trying to overtake them from behind, or encountering them head on, you are in for a challenge of physical maneuvering. Like ants marching on a predestined course, they feel compelled to veer towards you and bump shoulders. I think they get points for this. It’s the only way I can rationalize it.