There are a few that have really stood out to me, lately... one I haven't been able to find in a form that I can share with you here, so I'm going to hold off on telling you about it for now, but a couple of quick ones...
The colon cancer people actually have this as their catchphrase: We're behind your behind. I heard it on the radio and thought it was a joke, but it's the real deal. I think that's brilliant.
And another that was brilliant in a somewhat less intentional way was for a furniture store: "save up to 30% or more!".
Now this has been a pet peeve of mine for a while... seeing a sign in a store saying "Sale - up to 50% off". I might be the only one, but I'm a lot less interested in knowing that, if I go in, I am guaranteed never to be able to save more than 50%... I'd like to know I'm going to get it for at least whatever percent off. If I had my way, all the save "up to" signs would be replaced by save "at least" signs.
But being told that I will save absolutely no more than 30% or I will save more than 30%... well, how can you not trust those guys? I would suggest double-checking when they're ringing things through, though... just in case.
Happy shopping.
Showing posts with label it's not wrong it's just different. Show all posts
Showing posts with label it's not wrong it's just different. Show all posts
Monday, May 4, 2009
Friday, April 24, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
The Problem With Calgary
I'm getting used to the weather... other than the first couple of weeks, it actually hasn't been too cold. I am feeling pretty okay about the accent - still seems a little odd sometimes, but it will be alright. I am even dealing reasonably well with the addition of 5% sales tax to everything. So far, at least.
What I'm not liking are the drivers.
It's not so much that people are reckless... it's just that they are often really, really, really slow. When a light turns green, it's like the guy at the front goes, "well, I'll be! that thing just changed colour completely! Mabel, what do you make of that?". And then he takes off his hat, and he scratches his head, and then mumbles something else to Mabel about time to get a move on. He digs around in his pocket for his keys, starts up his engine, wonders why it won't go anywhere, remembers that his car (among other things) is in neutral, puts it into gear and moves off very, very slowly.
Imagine someone driving with a full fish tank in the back seat, not wanting it to spill. That's the kind of slowly that I'm talking about.
And then the lady behind him notices that he's moved, and that now there's a giant space in front of her. She finishes applying her makeup, looks for her keys, checks the fish, and moves out, keeping a safe distance of several hundred feet between her and the guy in front of her. After all, you can't be too safe when driving 15 km/hr.
And so on, and so on.
As a result, three people get through the average green light. Everyone else waits, and complains about how bad the traffic is. When, if they would just put their foot down when the light turns green, I would wager that the traffic situation in the city would be immeasurably better.
I am not a very fast driver, and I am not driving a very fast car... a 4-cylinder Honda, to be exact. But it's not uncommon for me to look back in my mirror after coming away from a light and have a full block between me and the next guy just a couple blocks down the road. That's a whole block full of people who are still sitting at that light instead of on their way home.
The funny bit, though, is that 5-10 minutes later, those same guys who were in the back seat digging for dropped crackers when the light changed are roaring along past me at 20 km/hr over the speed limit. Except the ones who are on their phones, who are going 20 under. And, at the risk of being labeled (unjustly, I believe) as a sexist pig, there are always a couple women driving 20 under the limit in the fast lane. They must be using hands-free, because I can't ever see them talking, but they are going awfully slow in the wrong lane.
I did go out for chicken wings and a hockey game on TV last night, though, and that was about enough to make up for a whole lot of slow drivers. So maybe this will work out, after all.
What I'm not liking are the drivers.
It's not so much that people are reckless... it's just that they are often really, really, really slow. When a light turns green, it's like the guy at the front goes, "well, I'll be! that thing just changed colour completely! Mabel, what do you make of that?". And then he takes off his hat, and he scratches his head, and then mumbles something else to Mabel about time to get a move on. He digs around in his pocket for his keys, starts up his engine, wonders why it won't go anywhere, remembers that his car (among other things) is in neutral, puts it into gear and moves off very, very slowly.
Imagine someone driving with a full fish tank in the back seat, not wanting it to spill. That's the kind of slowly that I'm talking about.
And then the lady behind him notices that he's moved, and that now there's a giant space in front of her. She finishes applying her makeup, looks for her keys, checks the fish, and moves out, keeping a safe distance of several hundred feet between her and the guy in front of her. After all, you can't be too safe when driving 15 km/hr.
And so on, and so on.
As a result, three people get through the average green light. Everyone else waits, and complains about how bad the traffic is. When, if they would just put their foot down when the light turns green, I would wager that the traffic situation in the city would be immeasurably better.
I am not a very fast driver, and I am not driving a very fast car... a 4-cylinder Honda, to be exact. But it's not uncommon for me to look back in my mirror after coming away from a light and have a full block between me and the next guy just a couple blocks down the road. That's a whole block full of people who are still sitting at that light instead of on their way home.
The funny bit, though, is that 5-10 minutes later, those same guys who were in the back seat digging for dropped crackers when the light changed are roaring along past me at 20 km/hr over the speed limit. Except the ones who are on their phones, who are going 20 under. And, at the risk of being labeled (unjustly, I believe) as a sexist pig, there are always a couple women driving 20 under the limit in the fast lane. They must be using hands-free, because I can't ever see them talking, but they are going awfully slow in the wrong lane.
I did go out for chicken wings and a hockey game on TV last night, though, and that was about enough to make up for a whole lot of slow drivers. So maybe this will work out, after all.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
The Race
I've heard a lot of people talking about how excited they are about the possibility of having the first African-American president (a term that's been oddly transplanted and politically-correctified, I think - I hear people here using the term "African-American" to describe people who have never even been to the US). And I have to admit... as a guy who has a lot of human-rights activist friends, but still falls a little right of center, even I find Obama pretty compelling.
The funny thing to me is that I have yet to hear one Caucasian refer to Obama as "our" candidate in quite the same way (with the possible exception of Josh). But his mother is white, right? I kind of think that if people of African ethnicity can embrace him as representing them, then a few more people of European descent should be willing to do the same. Why is it that someone who is half-African can be African enough to satisfy people who share that, but half-Caucasian isn't enough for the white folks?
In any case, I'm not voting. But I will be watching.
The funny thing to me is that I have yet to hear one Caucasian refer to Obama as "our" candidate in quite the same way (with the possible exception of Josh). But his mother is white, right? I kind of think that if people of African ethnicity can embrace him as representing them, then a few more people of European descent should be willing to do the same. Why is it that someone who is half-African can be African enough to satisfy people who share that, but half-Caucasian isn't enough for the white folks?
In any case, I'm not voting. But I will be watching.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Brommie
I remember the first time I heard a brommie (Birmingham) accent - it was on the radio (BBC 18 or some such creatively-named station, in true British form), and I was sure it was a joke. I couldn't believe that anyone would actually talk quite like that, and I found it absolutely fascinating. The program ended far too quickly, and I was disappointed to get back to a regular old BBC voice.
Well, the novelty has worn off.
There is a TV channel here called EuroNews. Clearly, they talk quite a bit about Europe, which is fine with me - somebody probably should. But the guy who does a lot of the voice-overs for them has, I believe, a brommie accent. And so there is one word for which he has a rather distinct pronunciation.
Unfortunately, it's "Europe".
When he says it, it comes out as "YOUR-op". This wouldn't be a big deal if it was "chesnuts" or "didactic" or some other word which didn't come up quite as frequently, but since YOUR-op can fall several times within the same sentence, I do find myself wondering exactly how he got the job. Knows the owner, maybe?
In other news, I've been sick, but there are more pictures on the way...
Well, the novelty has worn off.
There is a TV channel here called EuroNews. Clearly, they talk quite a bit about Europe, which is fine with me - somebody probably should. But the guy who does a lot of the voice-overs for them has, I believe, a brommie accent. And so there is one word for which he has a rather distinct pronunciation.
Unfortunately, it's "Europe".
When he says it, it comes out as "YOUR-op". This wouldn't be a big deal if it was "chesnuts" or "didactic" or some other word which didn't come up quite as frequently, but since YOUR-op can fall several times within the same sentence, I do find myself wondering exactly how he got the job. Knows the owner, maybe?
In other news, I've been sick, but there are more pictures on the way...
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Dancing Cell Phones
For some reason, cell phone operators LOVE advertising on CNN international. Irascom Telecom was a big one for a long time - handy for everyone looking to be traveling in Iraq and not sure about who their provider will be there when they arrive.
The one thing that they all seem to include is a series of shots of people dancing... always in native garb, and frequently through rolling green fields in the sunset. I just finished watching one for Pakistan... it had a guy riding in a private jet, the usual dancing, a lot of fantastic buildings. It left me with a question: when I'm traveling to a country on another continent, do I really care that much about traditional folk dances, or could I be more concerned with, say, if they have coverage at the airport and how much a text message is going to cost?
But then, I barely ever travel. What do I know.
The one thing that they all seem to include is a series of shots of people dancing... always in native garb, and frequently through rolling green fields in the sunset. I just finished watching one for Pakistan... it had a guy riding in a private jet, the usual dancing, a lot of fantastic buildings. It left me with a question: when I'm traveling to a country on another continent, do I really care that much about traditional folk dances, or could I be more concerned with, say, if they have coverage at the airport and how much a text message is going to cost?
But then, I barely ever travel. What do I know.
Friday, July 11, 2008
We Should Have Phoned First
There is a mountain (hill) near Geneva called the Salève. It's actually on the French side, but we like to think it's ours. You can go up it in a cable car, and everyone has told me for years how wonderful the views are over the city and the lake, especially at sunset, but I've never been.
I decided, though, that now was the time. First of all, this is my last summer living here. And second, I have kind of a special visitor, and I wanted to share it with her. So we got a picnic ready, headed off across town, walked through the border into France, found the entrance, and....
Closed.
Yeah, turns out that the sun sets at 9:30, and the cable car stops running at 7. Who came up with that schedule*?!? For the record, though, it was still a pretty nice sunset, even from the bottom.
C'est la vie.
* Not actually a rhetorical question - I think perhaps it was this guy.
I decided, though, that now was the time. First of all, this is my last summer living here. And second, I have kind of a special visitor, and I wanted to share it with her. So we got a picnic ready, headed off across town, walked through the border into France, found the entrance, and....
Closed.
Yeah, turns out that the sun sets at 9:30, and the cable car stops running at 7. Who came up with that schedule*?!? For the record, though, it was still a pretty nice sunset, even from the bottom.
C'est la vie.
* Not actually a rhetorical question - I think perhaps it was this guy.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Is That.......? Uh... Never Mind
It's because I love the earth.
I have a habit of shaking my hands rather enthusiastically after I wash to try to get the water off... I use fewer paper towels that way. The problem is that, in summer when I'm wearing light dress pants ("trousers" for those in the UK), those water drops that go flying everywhere make spots on my pants. And those spots really show up.
Really, really show up.
And, as a result, every time I walk out of the bathroom, it looks very much like I've urinated on myself. But I've been doing better on containing that the last couple of weeks, and I'm pretty proud of that.
I think that perhaps now I'm ready to consider that career in politics that I had been putting off.
I have a habit of shaking my hands rather enthusiastically after I wash to try to get the water off... I use fewer paper towels that way. The problem is that, in summer when I'm wearing light dress pants ("trousers" for those in the UK), those water drops that go flying everywhere make spots on my pants. And those spots really show up.
Really, really show up.
And, as a result, every time I walk out of the bathroom, it looks very much like I've urinated on myself. But I've been doing better on containing that the last couple of weeks, and I'm pretty proud of that.
I think that perhaps now I'm ready to consider that career in politics that I had been putting off.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Ca Marche Pas
I was going to start by saying that France isn't like a third-world country.
But I've never really traveled in a third-world country. So maybe I should just say it isn't much like Switzerland, Canada, Germany, the US, or the UK, in terms of it's technological prowess.
It all started when I had arrived in the Lyon train station - I was going to meet Korey and Jenny there, and since I arrived a little before they did (train vs. traffic), I wanted to sync up my mails. I had seen signs for the wifi (or, as I learned that the English call it, whif-ee) availability in the station. So I booted up, searched, and, sure enough, there was the login page. It gave me the option to log on with an existing account... as long as it's with a French provider. My Swisscom credit works in other countries, but, I guess, not in France.
That kind of became a sort of theme.
Anyways, they had another link to buy time if you didn't already have an account with one of four French phone services. So I clicked on the link, and this is what I got back:
Okay, no whif-ee.
I eventually did meet up with Korey and Jenny - we found the campground and decided to grab some groceries. We hit the nearby Champion (a French grocery chain), and when we got to pay, I pulled out my Visa card. The card reader was one of the ones that seems to use the chip instead of the strip, and mine has never worked that way. Still, most cashiers feel much better if they've tried the chip first, no matter what assurances I give them.
So, she tried the chip.
Oddly enough, it didn't work. Choking back the instinct to try to remember the translation for "I told you so", I suggested that perhaps the strip may yield a better result. She shook her head, and hit the card reader with her hand... and tried the chip again. And this continued for several minutes - the cashier swearing under her breath, hitting the machine, yanking my card out and shoving it back in.
Well, I guess the good news was that, by the time she got around to trying the strip, it didn't work, either. I ended up trying four other cashiers over the course of our visit, and my card, it seems, doesn't work anywhere in their store.
When I was looking at train schedules to get back to Lyon, to get back to Geneva (more on that in a forthcoming post), I managed to find my way through the French national train site to identify the ticket I wanted to buy, the date, the class, the seat, my address, name, phone number. credit card info, favorite flavor of ice cream (chocolate), turn-ons (long walks on the beach), first pet (a fish... pretty sure he had a name, but I don't remember it)... and hit "process"...
To get a message telling me that, due to a technical problem, my transaction had been canceled. No indication of what the problem may be, what role I may have played in it, or how it could be resolved. I tried several more times, always with the same error, and just gave up. I could buy a ticket at the station before I left... on a much earlier train in case there wasn't room on the one I wanted.
Oh well. They do make lovely wine.
But I've never really traveled in a third-world country. So maybe I should just say it isn't much like Switzerland, Canada, Germany, the US, or the UK, in terms of it's technological prowess.
It all started when I had arrived in the Lyon train station - I was going to meet Korey and Jenny there, and since I arrived a little before they did (train vs. traffic), I wanted to sync up my mails. I had seen signs for the wifi (or, as I learned that the English call it, whif-ee) availability in the station. So I booted up, searched, and, sure enough, there was the login page. It gave me the option to log on with an existing account... as long as it's with a French provider. My Swisscom credit works in other countries, but, I guess, not in France.
That kind of became a sort of theme.
Anyways, they had another link to buy time if you didn't already have an account with one of four French phone services. So I clicked on the link, and this is what I got back:
Le serveur n'a rien trouvé à l'adresse spécifiée.A rough translation is "did you make that up? we don't have that web page - better luck next time". Well, I thought, it's probably just because I had tried to access it from the English start page; the English versions generally receive a little less in terms of testing than the French pages. So I navigated through in French, and got the same error.
Veuillez nous excuser pour la gène occasionnée.
Okay, no whif-ee.
I eventually did meet up with Korey and Jenny - we found the campground and decided to grab some groceries. We hit the nearby Champion (a French grocery chain), and when we got to pay, I pulled out my Visa card. The card reader was one of the ones that seems to use the chip instead of the strip, and mine has never worked that way. Still, most cashiers feel much better if they've tried the chip first, no matter what assurances I give them.
So, she tried the chip.
Oddly enough, it didn't work. Choking back the instinct to try to remember the translation for "I told you so", I suggested that perhaps the strip may yield a better result. She shook her head, and hit the card reader with her hand... and tried the chip again. And this continued for several minutes - the cashier swearing under her breath, hitting the machine, yanking my card out and shoving it back in.
Well, I guess the good news was that, by the time she got around to trying the strip, it didn't work, either. I ended up trying four other cashiers over the course of our visit, and my card, it seems, doesn't work anywhere in their store.
When I was looking at train schedules to get back to Lyon, to get back to Geneva (more on that in a forthcoming post), I managed to find my way through the French national train site to identify the ticket I wanted to buy, the date, the class, the seat, my address, name, phone number. credit card info, favorite flavor of ice cream (chocolate), turn-ons (long walks on the beach), first pet (a fish... pretty sure he had a name, but I don't remember it)... and hit "process"...
To get a message telling me that, due to a technical problem, my transaction had been canceled. No indication of what the problem may be, what role I may have played in it, or how it could be resolved. I tried several more times, always with the same error, and just gave up. I could buy a ticket at the station before I left... on a much earlier train in case there wasn't room on the one I wanted.
Oh well. They do make lovely wine.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Hey There
Well, I'm in France with friends,and have been internetless; which is why it's been a while since an update.
The French also use a crazy keyboard. It's taken me 18 minutes to type this much correctly, so this will be short. But when I get home, I'll fill you in.
Interesting points so far:
The French also use a crazy keyboard. It's taken me 18 minutes to type this much correctly, so this will be short. But when I get home, I'll fill you in.
Interesting points so far:
- Another slight timing/date confusion
- Some magnificent cigars
- My first... uh, exposure... to topless beaches
- Sleeping in a tent again - it's been a while
- Being in the French Riviera and feeling vaguely like it's actually Holland
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Sheila
I was thinking that a sheila was a female kangaroo, and that made me wonder if anyone was actually named that in Australia.
But I looked it up, and it's actually slang for a woman.
So, my question remains. But besides that, the fact is that the Aussies have the best slang in the world. Take these examples:
Bluey : pack, equipment, traffic ticket, redhead
Bluey : blue cattle dog (named after its subtle markings) which is an excellent working dog. Everyone's favourite all-Aussie dog.
Bluey : heavy wool or felt jacket worn by mining and construction workers.
Bluey : bluebottle jellyfish
Bingle : motor vehicle accident
Bonzer : great, ripper
Budgie smugglers : men's bathing costume
And those are just the highlights of the B's!
Once again, I fear that I may have been born on the wrong continent...
But I looked it up, and it's actually slang for a woman.
So, my question remains. But besides that, the fact is that the Aussies have the best slang in the world. Take these examples:
Bluey : pack, equipment, traffic ticket, redhead
Bluey : blue cattle dog (named after its subtle markings) which is an excellent working dog. Everyone's favourite all-Aussie dog.
Bluey : heavy wool or felt jacket worn by mining and construction workers.
Bluey : bluebottle jellyfish
Bingle : motor vehicle accident
Bonzer : great, ripper
Budgie smugglers : men's bathing costume
And those are just the highlights of the B's!
Once again, I fear that I may have been born on the wrong continent...
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Prague, Day 2
So, much of the communist era seems to have vanished without a trace.
I've been a little disappointed, as we walked around Prague and took a long bus ride out to Cesky Krumlov tonight, that the architecture and scenery aren't more... well, something. I could be in Austria, when I look around Prague. I could be in Germany as we drive through the countryside. I just don't feel like it's defined, somehow.
Thankfully, though, we found a little slice of the old communist heritage when making our way to the bus station.
As we looked at metro ticket machines, we were faced with the (unfortunately) usual dizzying array of choices. How many zones? Hard to say, since they weren't marked on the map. How much time did we need? Probably the short one (20 minutes) but it could be close. The machines were full of cryptic messages (like O+B, C) which didn't seem to match up to anything on the map or information board. Oh well. We decided to buy and hope for the best.
As we headed down onto the platform, one of my friends looked at the validating machine.
"Do we need to stamp them?" she asked.
"No," I said, heading for the escalator, and conscious of the time it would take us to get to the bus station and find out how to get the right bus, "that must be for passes, but when you buy them time-limited from the machines you don't need to validate them."
We got to the bottom of the long escalator, and two men in blue uniforms approached us, asking for our tickets. We showed them, and they looked them over.
"Not stamped" they said, turning them over and pointing to some almost-legible print on the back of the ticket. "See? English - ticket not valid. Passport, please."
So, it turns out that the "don't need to stamp it, it's dated from the machine" is only valid in every other country I've been to. I'd done a lot of metroing in my time, and I'd never seen anything like this. They had picked us out because of our suitcases, I'm sure. True Czech hospitality.
My mind flashed back to a guy I started talking to at the airport before the flight. He runs a software company (for macs, by the way) out of the US, but lives in Prague since he can work online and be anywhere he wants. He said it's nice, but can be a little hostile: Czechs don't really like foreigners.
In Calgary, there are people at the airport to help you out if you're not sure what to do next. They're old, and they wear white hats. They don't take your money. But the rules are a little different in Eastern Europe.
I reluctantly handed over my passport and we headed back up the escalators - where they showed us a poster listing the fine for riding on the metro with an invalid ticket: 700 CZK, or about 50 CHF/$.
Ouch.
There wasn't a lot we could do. At least they also pointed out, several times, that the tickets we were using were only valid for 5 stops (something we hadn't seen written anywhere prior to that). Wonderful. We were paying a fine on tickets that weren't even the right ones.
But, that's part of traveling. So we paid, we bought new tickets, found our way to the bus station and started on the aforementioned journey through vaguely generic countryside. We have a couple of days to explore Cesky Krumlov, and it's reputed to be beautiful, so I'm excited to see it.
I'm especially happy, because it's small. We can walk.
As far as I know, they don't ticket foreigners for walking.
I've been a little disappointed, as we walked around Prague and took a long bus ride out to Cesky Krumlov tonight, that the architecture and scenery aren't more... well, something. I could be in Austria, when I look around Prague. I could be in Germany as we drive through the countryside. I just don't feel like it's defined, somehow.
Thankfully, though, we found a little slice of the old communist heritage when making our way to the bus station.
As we looked at metro ticket machines, we were faced with the (unfortunately) usual dizzying array of choices. How many zones? Hard to say, since they weren't marked on the map. How much time did we need? Probably the short one (20 minutes) but it could be close. The machines were full of cryptic messages (like O+B, C) which didn't seem to match up to anything on the map or information board. Oh well. We decided to buy and hope for the best.
As we headed down onto the platform, one of my friends looked at the validating machine.
"Do we need to stamp them?" she asked.
"No," I said, heading for the escalator, and conscious of the time it would take us to get to the bus station and find out how to get the right bus, "that must be for passes, but when you buy them time-limited from the machines you don't need to validate them."
We got to the bottom of the long escalator, and two men in blue uniforms approached us, asking for our tickets. We showed them, and they looked them over.
"Not stamped" they said, turning them over and pointing to some almost-legible print on the back of the ticket. "See? English - ticket not valid. Passport, please."
So, it turns out that the "don't need to stamp it, it's dated from the machine" is only valid in every other country I've been to. I'd done a lot of metroing in my time, and I'd never seen anything like this. They had picked us out because of our suitcases, I'm sure. True Czech hospitality.
My mind flashed back to a guy I started talking to at the airport before the flight. He runs a software company (for macs, by the way) out of the US, but lives in Prague since he can work online and be anywhere he wants. He said it's nice, but can be a little hostile: Czechs don't really like foreigners.
In Calgary, there are people at the airport to help you out if you're not sure what to do next. They're old, and they wear white hats. They don't take your money. But the rules are a little different in Eastern Europe.
I reluctantly handed over my passport and we headed back up the escalators - where they showed us a poster listing the fine for riding on the metro with an invalid ticket: 700 CZK, or about 50 CHF/$.
Ouch.
There wasn't a lot we could do. At least they also pointed out, several times, that the tickets we were using were only valid for 5 stops (something we hadn't seen written anywhere prior to that). Wonderful. We were paying a fine on tickets that weren't even the right ones.
But, that's part of traveling. So we paid, we bought new tickets, found our way to the bus station and started on the aforementioned journey through vaguely generic countryside. We have a couple of days to explore Cesky Krumlov, and it's reputed to be beautiful, so I'm excited to see it.
I'm especially happy, because it's small. We can walk.
As far as I know, they don't ticket foreigners for walking.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Ciao, Bello
I had a guy I work with in the bank pass me in the hall today. He winked and gave me the thumbs-up.
I love Italians.
I love Italians.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Rugby
The Japanese team have, to date, have 0 wins in 16 World Cup appearances.
The name of their team is The Cherry Blossoms.
So, All Blacks vs. Cherry Blossoms. Really, who are you going to have your money on? It may be time to rethink that whole "flowers of the rugby world" thing.
The name of their team is The Cherry Blossoms.
So, All Blacks vs. Cherry Blossoms. Really, who are you going to have your money on? It may be time to rethink that whole "flowers of the rugby world" thing.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Clash Of The Titans
I was on the bus with the little chick and I saw something that I'm sure must be rather common, but it's the first time I came across it. It was a bus driver chewing out a taxi driver.
Now the traffic laws in Geneva are, shall we say, sporadically enforced. But things happen in degrees.
Pedestrians don't follow any rules. In a lot of ways, this makes sense, since the whole traffic flow is based around them. They pretty much walk where they want, when they want, and it's not unusual to see people just walking out to cross a busy 4 or even 6-lane street, expecting that everyone will stop for them, because people do.
Bikes are only slightly better than pedestrians. Red lights mean nothing to them... when they get to an intersection, they tend to just take a look around and keep right on going. As a pedestrian, I can tell you they're tricky - since they don't obey red lights and you can't hear them coming, they can be tough to avoid, even when you're walking with a green light.
Scooters kind of obey lights. If they are going to get around them, they don't usually just run them - they will go up on the sidewalk at a red light, go across the pedestrian crossing, and continue from the sidewalk on the other side. They don't like lanes, but when I am driving, I'm usually quite content to have them zip through... at least that means it's one less car waiting at a 3-second green light in front of me.
Buses are a nightmare. They generally disregard the rules and just assume they have the right of way. If they're signaling, they don't wait for much of a break before pulling out. Even at pedestrian crossings, if I don't step out and walk in front of them, they will never stop, even though I have the right of way. And when I do step out, they often appear rather pissed off. Probably because they had to slam on the brakes to stop, probably because they were not planning on obeying the law and I surprised them. So I'm not a big fan of buses.
Taxis... well, taxis all over the world are the same, I think. They have this idea that, since they drive a lot, the rules that apply to everyone else shouldn't really apply to them. They will drive in the turning lane to force their way at the last moment into the one going straight, rather than sitting in line with everyone else. And I remember taxi drivers in Calgary one time protesting that they should have different fines for traffic violations since they're always on the road and their livelihood depends on them being able to keep their license and pay their insurance (which, there, goes up as you collect infractions). Kind of like lowering the penalties for bank robberies for people who work in a bank. I mean, around all that money every day, who can expect them not to slip up once in a while? Except that when a bank employee decides to rob the bank, people aren't quite as likely to die as when taxi decides to run a red.
And then there are the regular cars, who, for the most part, drive pretty well. Certainly, there are more cars on the road than anything else, but the vast majority of the problems are caused by other people.
So it was pretty interesting to see a bus, signaling and then pulling out even though there wasn't space for him, being honked at by a taxi who was half in the lane of the oncoming traffic, to be honked back at by the bus who then proceeded to see how close he could get to the taxi's rear bumper until he pulled beside him at a light, rolled down his window, and started to explain to him how things are supposed to work.
Only problem was, I couldn't tell who I should be rooting for. Tough call, that.
Now the traffic laws in Geneva are, shall we say, sporadically enforced. But things happen in degrees.
Pedestrians don't follow any rules. In a lot of ways, this makes sense, since the whole traffic flow is based around them. They pretty much walk where they want, when they want, and it's not unusual to see people just walking out to cross a busy 4 or even 6-lane street, expecting that everyone will stop for them, because people do.
Bikes are only slightly better than pedestrians. Red lights mean nothing to them... when they get to an intersection, they tend to just take a look around and keep right on going. As a pedestrian, I can tell you they're tricky - since they don't obey red lights and you can't hear them coming, they can be tough to avoid, even when you're walking with a green light.
Scooters kind of obey lights. If they are going to get around them, they don't usually just run them - they will go up on the sidewalk at a red light, go across the pedestrian crossing, and continue from the sidewalk on the other side. They don't like lanes, but when I am driving, I'm usually quite content to have them zip through... at least that means it's one less car waiting at a 3-second green light in front of me.
Buses are a nightmare. They generally disregard the rules and just assume they have the right of way. If they're signaling, they don't wait for much of a break before pulling out. Even at pedestrian crossings, if I don't step out and walk in front of them, they will never stop, even though I have the right of way. And when I do step out, they often appear rather pissed off. Probably because they had to slam on the brakes to stop, probably because they were not planning on obeying the law and I surprised them. So I'm not a big fan of buses.
Taxis... well, taxis all over the world are the same, I think. They have this idea that, since they drive a lot, the rules that apply to everyone else shouldn't really apply to them. They will drive in the turning lane to force their way at the last moment into the one going straight, rather than sitting in line with everyone else. And I remember taxi drivers in Calgary one time protesting that they should have different fines for traffic violations since they're always on the road and their livelihood depends on them being able to keep their license and pay their insurance (which, there, goes up as you collect infractions). Kind of like lowering the penalties for bank robberies for people who work in a bank. I mean, around all that money every day, who can expect them not to slip up once in a while? Except that when a bank employee decides to rob the bank, people aren't quite as likely to die as when taxi decides to run a red.
And then there are the regular cars, who, for the most part, drive pretty well. Certainly, there are more cars on the road than anything else, but the vast majority of the problems are caused by other people.
So it was pretty interesting to see a bus, signaling and then pulling out even though there wasn't space for him, being honked at by a taxi who was half in the lane of the oncoming traffic, to be honked back at by the bus who then proceeded to see how close he could get to the taxi's rear bumper until he pulled beside him at a light, rolled down his window, and started to explain to him how things are supposed to work.
Only problem was, I couldn't tell who I should be rooting for. Tough call, that.
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