Tuk-tuk Perspective
On January 31st, I returned from an extraordinary adventure in Sri Lanka. This trip offered a richness of food, culture, experiences, and lessons. I'm likely to unwind and include some of these in newsletters to come. First, I'd like to share about driving in Sri Lanka.
With rare exceptions, I've driven in every country I've visited. Until Sri Lanka, I perceived the automotive pilots of Italia to outdistance the next class of "worst drivers" by a mile. Navigating the roads of the Dominican Republic, which ranks as one of the top 10 countries on the planet for driving fatalities, seemed a pleasant stroll through the park, relative to the Italians. Bear in mind, I say this after witnessing a mother nursing a baby on a motorbike, while the driver swerved through downtown Las Terrenas (DR) traffic, with a second child sandwiched between. Yes, crazy, and still seemed safer than navigating the roads of Italy, where speed limits and driving lanes are scoffed at by the locals, while they read texts, travelling at the speed of sound, on whatever part of the road accommodates them - even if half of that lane is mine.
Although both Australia and South Africa require a shift of perspective, because cars drive on the opposite side of the road, both are quite civilized. Learning to drive a standard transmission car (with my left hand on the hills of Cape Town) did provide some hilarious moments, especially since the turn signal and windshield wiper controls are opposite from my body memory. And, I believed this bank of experiences would prepare me for Sri Lanka. Ha!
Riding in a tuk-tuk in Sri Lanka*
Before securing a rental car, Mark and I did quite a lot of reading and soul searching. Generally, when we travel together, we have a system. I drive; Mark navigates. We learned, foreigners typically hire a driver for their entire holiday in Sri Lanka, or they travel by train or bus to a desired location, and take tuk-tuks to and from the local sights. We just couldn't imagine any of this. If we hired a driver and didn't like him, then what? What if we wanted to go on one of our little exploratory jaunts - no specific destination in mind - as we did when we discovered the magic of Gandoca Beach in Costa Rica? Because we weren't willing to sacrifice this sort of freedom, we committed to self-driving.
When booking our Mirissa Airbnb, the lovely host strongly advised we reconsider our plan. Did this scare the pants off me? Yes! And we did it anyway. Why all the drama?
Well, there's the driving on the other side of the road factor, with the wiper and turn signal locations switched. Been there, done that - figured I'd get the hang of it again. Mark, in his brilliance, paid a bit extra for an automatic transmission, saving me from using the stick shift with my left hand. Thank the gods for that, because I don't think my brain could have stretched to include one more facet of focus amid all the stimuli.
A typical road with lots of traffic*
We collected our rental car at about 4:30 am. The pre-dawn hour afforded me about 20 minutes of getting used to the rules of the road, without any competition, as I drove to our first hotel. There we stayed for three nights, acclimating to the time difference (10.5 hours ahead of Boston), and surrendering to the first round of flu that invaded our bodies.
When our reservation ended, we slowly - effortfully - packed up the car, preparing for the first real test of navigating the roads of Sri Lanka. That route from Negombo to Kandy might mark the most harrowing drive I've ever experienced.
Once the sun rises, the roads are jammed! There is a constant stream of cars, strolling pedestrians (no sidewalks), tuk-tuks riding three astride, lumbering tractors, and buses - careening through the maze of traffic - threading the needle at top speed, completely inhabiting the power of their size. Motorbikes carry one to four passengers - some setting a snail's pace - while others hurry past an average driver. Trucks plod along, unless they adopt the mindset of the bus drivers, in which case one needs to yield the road to the momentum of the larger vehicle. Sounds a bit chaotic, right? Add in dogs that sleep on the middle or edge of the road and refuse to be disturbed, the wandering cows, a herd of water buffalo, or random peacocks, plus the occasional sign that you may need to yield to elephants crossing.
And really, I believe all of this would be basically FINE, except no one stays in their lane! In fact, on the route from Negombo to Kandy, a large segment of the road doesn't actually have two lanes. I mean, there's not really room for two cars to pass in opposite directions, let alone the many varieties of travelers that exist.
How challenging can it be? Depending upon the vehicle, the allowed speed limit differs. A tuk-tuk or motorbike may only travel at 50kph, while a bus may move at 60kph, and a passenger car at 70kph. Now, imagine the slower tuk-tuks riding the non-existent center-line, and a bus on a mission wants to pass. That bus (or other passing vehicle) engages in a constant game of chicken - overtaking the slower vehicles - pushing cars of both lanes to the outskirts of the narrow road. Those pushed aside live in hope of no dogs, pedestrians, cows, puttering motorbikes, parked cars, or...wait for it...a two-foot wide by three feet deep gully to carry excess water during monsoon season. Always, the motorist toots the horn while passing (in 35 years of driving I never used my horn as much as these three weeks!). A brief "beep-beep" alert usually replaces use of turn signals, though occasionally someone will flick their blinker...it's just never quite clear what it means...passing, turning, inviting the person behind to pass...it's an entirely foreign driving language.
A typical width for a two lane road - complete with water buffalo*
After that first four-hour drive, during which we were both still terribly sick, while simultaneously overwhelmed by the nature of the driving conditions, neither of us was anxious to motor more than absolutely necessary. After two more dreadful days of fevers, coughing, nausea - everything you don't want under the best of circumstances, let alone in a foreign land - we ventured out to the grocery store. The drive was relatively short, mostly one way streets, and we had good directions from our Airbnb host, combined with Mark's GPS. While still crazy busy in the Kandy City Center, I gained a bit of confidence. After shopping we immediately returned to the house, had a small bite to eat, and climbed back in bed, but I thought, "Maybe I'll manage to master the driving after all."
Mango in banana leaf*
The next day, finally healthier, our holiday truly began. For the first six days, we'd done absolutely nothing, beyond what I've described to you. This marked our most beautiful driving day of the entire adventure. The route from Kandy to Ella included a preservation area filled with gazillions of butterflies, stupendous views, and a real road, only lightly traveled. It was heaven - complete with vendors selling cooked corn on the cob and fresh mango slices served in a banana leaf!
About a week later, I admit, I felt joy and pride in my ability to assimilate the wicked driving of Sri Lanka. True, I'd brushed a pedestrian's elbow with my left side mirror that first day to Kandy. And Mark vehemently alerted me again and again about being too close on the left side, but since the alternative was to face the bus/car/truck barreling toward a head-on collision with me - in MY LANE - I just asked him to "please stop yelling at me." So, he did.
Two weeks in, we drove through a busy town center, with me confidently tooting my horn, following behind a tuk-tuk to pass an empty fruit truck poised with it's tail fanned into the middle of the street. As I slid by the corner of that truck too closely, I clipped off my left side mirror.
Driving in Sri Lanka*
No one, including me, even realized what happened. Mark announced, "Yup, we just lost the mirror!" Oops! I pulled over; he walked back to retrieve the mirror. Because I was moving slowly the only things harmed were our rental car mirror and my ego. The remainder of that drive to Mirissa was torturous. Mark, frightened by the accident, got angry since he'd warned me so many times about being too close on the left, and still I hadn't listened. And, I felt myself sink into a state of over-cooked. My capacity depleted by the accident, the general driving conditions, my expectations of myself that I would "get it all right" wherever I drove, and the temporary discord between me and Mark.
It wasn't until the next day, when texting my sweet friend, Lisa, a sunrise photo from our final destination and sharing about the mishap, that I began to recognize the gift. Lisa said, "Meh..Mirror schmirror. That's a minor issue for this trip. I'm just so glad you both started feeling better." To which I responded, "Agreed! Though I was really bummed to lose my skilled driving record. Oh well." Then my loyal heart-sister replied, "It's halfway across the world...Nobody needs to know if you don't tell them. My lips are sealed!" Her words shifted my perspective. Mirror-schmirror! I liked that. Given all I'd faced (and really, this is only a taste - it's quite impossible to fully express the experience), what was a lost side mirror in the scope of this adventure?
Driving behind a tuk-tuk in Sri Lanka*
By cutting myself that break, I keyed in to what had happened. I was driving a small four-door Toyota Aqua. Not something offered in the USA. It's quite narrow, and probably just a touch longer than my mini-cooper two-seater. The challenge was this: when I followed that tuk-tuk, I imagined my car took up the same width as the vehicle in front of me, except, I was bigger.
Once I recognized this phenomenon, I noticed it again and again. When I drove behind motorbikes or tuk-tuks, I needed to be uber mindful of the fact that I take up more space than they do. I can't follow them and assume I have the ability to maneuver in the same manner. Then I got the life lesson: When I behave as if I'm smaller than I am, I clip my own wing, and impede my flight.
Conversely, if I follow behind a large truck or bus, I cannot see around them. I am blind to what is coming around the bend. I must surrender to the unknown, and trust in a force bigger than me to lead the way.
Certainly, there are times I get to drive unencumbered through a national park, enjoying the butterflies and mango, simply following where the road goes. Those occasions are lovely, but in the land of learning, while I may remember to appreciate the moment, I am not challenged to grow through those experiences.
If I assume the tuk-tuk perspective in my life, and my inner soul vehicle requires more space, the results are both uncomfortable and occasionally dangerous. If I lean into the unknown, allowing myself to be blinded by a force that is clearly bigger than me, and will effectively protect me from harm (as long as it's not rushing toward me in my lane!), I may learn surrender at yet another level - and who knows what magic opens to me from that place.
Driving behind something big in Sri Lanka*
In case you're wondering, you needn't drive in Sri Lanka to get a taste of these lessons. Get on a crowded elevator with a full backpack, and a few bags of groceries. Notice how you bump and displace your fellow riders?Suddenly, whatever size you're accustomed to being has expanded, and it requires a manual update to recognize the impact you have. Similarly, you might drive behind a giant truck unable to see what's coming next, and knowing that if there's something in the road ahead, the truck will take the brunt force of the hit, and you may never even know you dodged a mishap. Now, consider expanding and applying these experiences to your daily life.
I believe, for me, these lessons are about understanding the space I take up in the world, and not diminishing or exaggerating what that may be. Honoring the impact I have, and giving myself room to grow, even when the voices in my head tell me I should already know how to do it "right." Giving myself permission to fall down and get back up matters. As does my willingness to walk, drive, or skip through the path of the unknown, trusting a deeper part of me that is always inherently safe - the part that is able to face whatever may come, even when it meets me by surprise.
May you, too, come to know and appreciate the space you take up - even if it's different from what you think it "should" be. Perhaps, together, we'll surrender a bit more control and trust in the magic of the universe.
With love,
Joanne Lutz
*photos and videos for this issue are credited to Mark Lesses, because I really couldn't use the camera while driving in Sri Lanka! Thanks, Mark xo
