In the right

So, over here in Dubai they drive on the right. Before we left Australia, this was practically my biggest concern. Forget leaving everything I love and know and re-settling my family in a foreign land. No, I was worried about driving on the wrong side of the road.

But apart from a few sudden swerves away from oncoming cars in the beginning (it’s all right, Mum, we’re okay), it’s not actually being on the other side of the road that has proved the problem. It’s all the little unexpected things that come along with it.

Did you realize how much of what you do when you’re driving is completely unconscious? That glance of the eyes up to the rear view mirror, the hand on the gear stick, the flicking on of the indicator.

When you have to reverse all these actions, it makes your brain hurt. It’s like being Alice in Wonderland, post-fall, and everything about driving is made strange.

You have to re-think every single thing. To see behind me, I dart my eyes up to the left, looking for the mirror. Uh oh, that’s the window now. I have fallen into the habit of using my driver’s side mirror instead of my rear view mirror because it seems more natural to look in that direction. That’s actually worked out okay, because it matters more whose beside you here, really, as it’s all about changing lanes, or else dodging the crazies changing lanes around you.

Even walking to the car is complicated. I have actually unlocked the car and climbed into the passenger seat before I realized there was no steering wheel in front of me. That was only last week. And I’ve been here three and a half months. Sad. Mostly, though, I twig to it just as I’m about to pull the door open. Then I pretend I was just putting my handbag on the seat and slam the door, walk casually around to the other side, and climb in.

But that’s not where the problem ends. Even with uncompromising visual evidence that I am in a left-hand drive car, I reach my right hand up into empty space, looking to pull the seatbelt down. After negotiating that, I still smash my left hand into the side door, in search of the gear stick to put the car into reverse.

I know I’m not the smartest person in the world, and I do tend to rely more than others on habit (given that I am just slightly absent-minded) but I understand I’m not the only one going through this. Even my husband admits to some of it.

But the worst (in terms of the outcome, so far) is my conflicted spatial awareness. I am just not used to having so much car sticking out to the right. Let’s just say this has led me into a couple of scrapes.

But wait, there’s more. Even footpaths are a minefield, since the expectation here is that people will move to the right as they walk past each other. Even if you adapt to this fairly quickly, there will inevitably be tourists, or Dubaians (is that a word?) from other parts of the world, who insist on walking on the left. Disaster. Then there’s escalators. We regularly approach the ‘up’ side when we want to go down, and vice versa.

The only place I haven’t had to compromise is the pool. The lap lanes are usually empty, so I can still swim on the left. (I have no idea why this is so. Australians seem to be the only ones who swim for exercise. The others by the pool are drinking juice and looking at Facebook on their phones.)

In some ways, the whole left-right thing is a symbol of adapting to a new land. Everything is different. You have to think through each action, from where to go shopping to how to find a doctor. This makes your brain hurt. It’s also stressful and tiring. Which explains why I feel like I need to sleep all the time. Wake me when it’s time to pick up the kids – I’m having a nap.