Stop Means Honk

I decided upon our move down to Maringá to pass on the opportunity to drive while here. The first reason is because every car is a stick, and honestly, I don’t know how to drive one. Yes, I could learn, but I’ve found that I shouldn’t overload my brain with trying to learn too many new things at once. Learning the language, customs, how to start a freelance writing career and the ins and outs of creating web-sites is enough for me right now.

Secondly, I really wanted to take advantage of living in a place where walking is the main form of transportation. Walkability of a community is a huge topic in the health and wellness field right now and living in the urban sprawl of the US I haven’t been able to take advantage of it. Walking around the city forces me to get in some extra physical activity and explore things around me. Unless I need something especially heavy from the supermarket, I enjoy it.

Experiencing automobile transportation as a passenger has shown me that I have made a smart decision. My husband seems to have no problem maneuvering in the craziness, but there is no way I could handle the large amount of driving rule disobedience.

One thing my husband does like about driving here is that people usually always give way to other drivers. If someone needs to get over into a lane you let them. People create their own space and turn and stop when and wherever they want. It is pretty much accepted. No lanes really exist, as people just tend to pull in and drive around as they please.

It is nice that there is less of the road rage – I’m going to get out of the car and punch you in the face – attitude than back in the states. At home people purposely don’t let others into a lane because it makes them feel powerful somehow.

Well, that was the positive, so on to the negatives. There is a complete disregard for stop (pare) signs here. I would estimate that the same amount of people run red lights here as where I’m from and the lack of respect for pedestrians is about the same as good ol’ Kentucky, at least in downtown Lexington. However, unless intoxicated or completely distracted, most come to at least a rolling stop at a stop sign before proceeding through and intersection.

Here they don’t. I’ve come to the conclusion that stop means honk. We live on a corner of two moderately busy streets. It is two one way streets and one has a stop sign, the other does not. As less traffic fills the street in evenings, people who enter the intersection from the direction which is supposed to stop decide that they are either too important or their leg hurts too much after a long day at work to apply the breaks. They instead use their hand to blare the horn to warn people that they are coming.

It is as if they are saying, “I’m supposed to stop, but I don’t feel like it. Here I come, stop if you don’t want to hit me.” It is, in my opinion, the ultimate practice of arrogance, not to mention lack of respect for human life. I would feel the same towards practices like these in the US.

Unfortunately, we’ve witnessed two accidents at the intersection, one being a person hit on a moped, and too many close calls to count. In addition, the constant honking for their laziness makes for a pretty sleepless night.

So I guess what I’m saying is that I appreciate being from a place where, although there are exceptions, stop means stop, and where people get traffic tickets and fines for running stop signs. Defensive driving takes on a whole new meaning in Maringá.