Traveling to Jalandhar City

Hi All!!
Last Wednesday, Navjot hired a driver to take us from Chandigarh to Jalandhar City. I tried to look at the passing scenery, but I soon began to feel queasy. (Don't worry, not every topic of this blog will be about tummy problems.) We had only been on the road for about 20 minutes, and the trip would take at least 3 hours!! I was worried.
This driver seemed to be more daring than the driver who took us to Chandigarh. The driver and Navjot were engaged in cheerful conversation as the driver beeped his horn and weaved in and out of constant traffic, most of it oncoming. I found Navjot's comfort a little odd, since he can become slightly motion sick riding with me in Lansing, which is so tame compared to India roads! I reached for my purse to find Dramamine, or anything to put me out. All I found was my water bottle, Charmin sani-cloths and hand sanitizer, and then I realized that I had put my meds in my suitcase in the backseat. I pushed my water bottle in my purse, and zipped it with an angry tug, bitterly disappointed at my failed search; for I knew I couldn’t risk reaching behind my seat and pulling a suitcase onto the seat next to me, for my queasiness would probably spiral into a terribly uncomfortable motion sickness.
Navjot looked back and asked, “ Are you okay?”
“No,” I grumbled, “I need to be unconscious.” I laid my head facedown onto the wool blankets stacked beside me, provided by our generous Bhuji (aunt), and covered my head with my sweater. Navjot showed his approval of this new tactic by quietly returning his attention to the cars, busses, and scooters that maneuvered around each other. The traffic, against straight lines of the two-lane road, seemed to move like pack of wild, racing balloons, floating aggressively towards the finish line.
The darkness and the smell of the wool quickly cleared my head and settled my stomach. About 45 min later we pulled off the road so the driver could go to the bathroom.
“Nav,” I asked wonderingly, “isn’t this driver kind of crazy?”
Nav giggled and said, “ Actually, he is driving pretty safe. He followed a bus for a long time, and did all the things the bus did, and …then he passed the bus. The road is much better now.”
“Noooo……are you kidding?” I felt a smile growing on my face, because I knew he was not kidding, and despite my earlier discomfort, I was actually enjoying this experience of bewilderment by this completely different perspective of safe travel.
“Nope, and like I said, the road is better the rest of the way. It is not as busy.”
The only other memorable moment on this trip, besides the near constant games of chicken with oncoming traffic, was spotting someone riding a motorcycle standing up, positioned above the back section of the seat, hands at his sides. He must have been using his weight to influence the straight path of the cycle, since he was nowhere near the handlebars.
When I expressed bafflement, Nav said, “He is just riding the bike by standing up,” as if doing that was an everyday activity in India. It is at these times that I wonder if it will ever be possible for me to understand even some the thinking of Indian people!