I'm finished commenting on physical ailments except to say that in the last day and a half we've completed work in the training room and have moved back to the desks. The trainees are now putting into practice the many bits of office erudition I've passed along. The point? My feet don't hurt. Although they continue to impress me with their ability I'm glad I've got the extra week to tie down loose ends, especially considering the lost days.
Earlier I noted that given the schedule and the fact that it's dark when we return from the office, except for the weekend (and the last one was lost to the weather and my need to recuperate) there isn't much chance to see Hyderabad except for the commute. So what's that like? Surreal is one word that comes to mind, especially regarding the traffic.
Hyderabad is growing rapidly. According to our driver the population has risen by a million or two in the last 6 to 7 years, all driven by foreign business investment, and not all of it Western. The result is traffic that gets worse by the day. Much of the trip to the office is over 2 to 3 lane roads but it would be a huge mistake to think of them as highways. Speed is limited to something like 45 mph and that's rarely reached. The roads are full of two wheelers (small motorcycles maxing out at 200cc's), underpowered 3 wheeled taxis designed to carry two plus the driver but I've seen 5 or 6 packed in, very small cars powered by 1.3 liter engines if that, and buses that look as if they'll collapse upon their suspensions. Our group has been driven around in what practically passes for a limousine, if only in size.
The roads are marked with solid double white lines nominally separating opposing traffic, and single dashed lines purporting to indicate lanes. The lines are more decorative than definitive. Traffic flows over the pavement without regard to anything so insubstantial as mere paint.
Fortunately the speed generally settles around 25 mph if you're lucky. The vehicles move down the road in an organic flow. The only thing comparable (if that) to the US is the way traffic will slowly merge and inch out of a stadium parking lot after a big game, only here they do it at speed. I'd say that horns punctuate the trip but that'd suggest you hear them now and then instead of all the time. A Hyderabad driver uses his horn in one hour more often than I'll use mine at home in 10 years. That's actually a good thing. In the US the horn is more often than not blared in frustration; here it's used to say "I know you can't see me but here I come" or better still, as a one note score to a game of chicken.
The three wheeled taxis are very slow, which means traffic is constantly swerving around to pass them. Sometimes they're outfitted to carry cargo and at that point they're lucky to make 10mph I'm guessing, and maybe 2 if it's uphill.
No description of Hyderabad traffic can avoid the mention of tailgating. Sub-atomic particle physicists seeking a Nobel Prize would be well advised to study how close two bumpers can get without touching on these road. Hyderabad is the laboratory, and speed is inversely related to the distance between vehicles.
Finally, the two wheelers outnumber everything else on the road. They have an advantage over the congestion because they can and do squeeze through any slight crevice between vehicles. I've seen two cars and two cycles go four wide on a 2 lane road traveling at 25mph or more. They're ridden in all weather, and you can sometimes see a family of 4, 5, or even 6 piled onto one. I'm serious folks. Mom, Dad, and four kids dangling on a small motorcycle. Last week we passed Dad driving, Mom on the back, and junior (maybe 4 years old) literally sleeping between his Dad's legs, laying on the gas tank. It brings new meaning to the phrase "Are we there yet?".
And then there was the pair we saw tonight, in the rain and dark. The passenger was holding a cell phone to the driver's ear so he could talk -- a form of hands free cell phone use previously unknown to me.
All of which comes at a cost. Our driver says an average of 3 a day die in motorcycle accidents in Hyderabad. Today's paper named 6, including a wife who fell off the back of the bike (Indian women often ride side saddle) when her husband swerved to avoid a buffalo. What I don't know, though, is how many deaths there are per motorcycle miles driven. I couldn't say whether it's high or low but from what I've seen 3 a day seems to be an amazingly small number.
UPDATE: I just re-read this and I hope I didn't give the impression that it's incredibly dangerous to ride the roads here. Hyderabad is a growing 21st Century city where old meets new in countless ways, and where people deal with it as only people can. Although you might ordinarily need a gun to get me on a motorcycle here, that says as much about me as it does about riding these streets, and I'd sooner ride to work on one than live in many many other places in the world.
