Mongolians say that they drive cars like they ride horses. If you have ever seen a Mongolian ride a horse, then you understand that it is an apt and scary parallel.
More and more cars are coming to Mongolia every day. When Kristie and I first visited in 1997, there were few cars and no cars marked as taxis. You would flag down any passing motorist and negotiate a price that you would pay him to take you where you wanted to go. Back then, a foreigner who did not speak the language would have had a hard time getting around town without an interpreter.
Today things are different. Taxis are ubiquitous and sometimes passing motorists will pick up a foreigner holding out his hand simply to practice their English with him.
But the drivers are also different. As more and more cars crowd the roads, most drivers are being pushed towards one of two extremes. There are drivers who look at the cars, buses, pedestrians, road construction and – seemingly paralyzed by fear – decide to drive about ten miles an hour everywhere they go. The other set of drivers look at the same set of cars, buses, pedestrians, and road construction and decide that the best option is the drive like maniacs, honking their horns and swerving in and out of their lane.
Actually, in Mongolia the term “lane” is not used. I remember discussing with my Mongolian friends what to call the space between white dotted lines marked on the road. None of them could agree on what that term might be. I have since found out why: Mongolians are nearly oblivious to the lane markings. Anytime you see a car ahead signaling to change lanes, you can almost guarantee that the car is driven by a foreigner; Mongolians simply drift from lane to lane without warning. In places where two lanes are marked, three lines of traffic (and occasionally four lanes, making use of the shoulder) often form; or conversely, in places where there are two lanes and no shoulder there may be one car whose driver is doing his best to occupy both lanes. Of course, such a situation never stops the maniacal drivers from taking any opportunity to drive on the wrong side of the road or driving on a soft, gravel shoulder to pass.
Turning left into traffic can be a real unnerving experience in Mongolia. Not only do you need to watch out for the cars coming straight towards you or coming at you from your left or right, you also need to be aware of cars that may be trying to get around you because you are not getting out into traffic quickly enough for them. Sometimes they try to get around you on your right hand side, but usually another car will squirt out into traffic from your left. As if that is not enough, pedestrians also cross the street with abandon; that is, pedestrians will often cross the street where there is no crosswalk heedless of the impending danger. More than once, I have waited for several long minutes carefully observing the traffic and finally anticipated my opportunity to turn left into traffic if I can merge quickly. I take one last look to my left – good, there are no cars coming, hit the accelerator, turn the wheel sharply to my left, and – whoa! – a pedestrian who was waiting for the same break that I was: hit the brakes hard, jerk the wheel to the left or right to swerve to avoid both cars and humans.
Then there are intersections with traffic lights. A red traffic light in Mongolia does not mean stop, a yellow does not mean that a red light is about to follow, and a green light does not mean go. Take yellow as an example. In Mongolia, a yellow light occurs in a variety of situations. Sometimes, the light turns yellow after green and before red. In this case, a yellow light means prepare to be blindsided by a car anticipating a green light … um, I mean, prepare to stop. But at other intersections, a yellow light follows a red light and precedes green: this means prepare to cut off cross traffic or they will not stop traveling through the intersection until five seconds before their own light turns green again. (Their own yellow light makes them stop because remember at some intersections a yellow light means … “prepare to be blindsided” … remember that?). But there are a few intersections where a yellow light occurs with a green light. That yellow light means “those turning left prepare to fight through oncoming traffic to turn left.” Wow! So as you approach an intersection for the first time and see a yellow light, what should you do? What every Mongolian does – keep driving but cover the brake.
In reality red and green lights only tell you who has the right-of-way. Mongolians will pass through an intersection whether the light is red or green. A red light means that you had better be really sure that no one else is preparing to enter the intersection: a green light means that you are allowed to honk at someone preparing to enter the intersection that threatens to block your way. See, once you figure out what the yellow lights mean, the green and red lights are a piece of cake.
After a while, one gets used to the traffic and actually begins to understand the thinking. A driver just has to imagine that he is riding a horse not driving a car.
I have been driving for several years now in Mongolia and find that it takes a different set of reactions and reflexes than driving in America. Once, I picked up an American who was visiting at the airport and drove him to a place to stay. As cars and pedestrians came at us seemingly oblivious of the danger, I wove in and out of traffic only standing on the brakes once or twice. Cars passed mine with only inches to spare, pedestrians started into the street before I passed them, cars casually ran through red lights, I did not even touch the brake for yellow lights – all this while I continued to carry on a conversation with my friend. When we finally stopped outside his building, he said with some admiration, “I see that you’re used to traffic around here.” It was quite a compliment.
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