In regards to driving

New term- 'Napoleoned'

(past tense, verb)

To have thrown one's GPS unit out the window with the recharge cord still attached, allowing it to bounce along the asphalt behind the vehicle, in order to prolong the unit's suffering, rather than bringing about it's immediate destruction.

Driving in Malaysia's kinda fun. If you like that sort of thing. Which I do, of course.

Most of the highways have three lanes of traffic during the non-rush hour times. Simple enough to negotiate, then, provided you have a GPS, which will frequently get you very lost. But far better to yell at an inanimate object than at your wife, with a map spread across her lap, and a confused look on her face, in the passenger seat. So with the GPS I persevere.

The left lane is occupied almost entirely by scooters. Smoky, slow, unpredictable things they are, and best avoided whenever possible. Scooter riders have a death wish, and no respect for the fact that all they wear is nylon jackets and open face helmets for their protection.

The right lane is mostly occupied by police escorts (of which you can hire if you wish to simplify this mess) and fast european cars. The Merc, Beemer, Lamborghini, Porsche crew (especially those big Cayeene 4WDs) and stupidly fast pimped-out Taragos, called Alphards. Which is, predictably, my new favourite car name in the whole wide world. (Say it to yourself a few times. Alphard... Alphard...)

You can surf the right hand lane, but you need to keep and eye in your rear view mirror, looking for the tiny black spec that oft approaches at 180kph.

Middle lane's the go, then, avoiding the worst of the bikes, europe's fearless finest, and stern looking police officers, on ridiculously oversized Hondas that point angrily at you as though you had some means of getting out of their way.

Don't bother looking for speed signs. That'll get you killed. Besides, speed cameras are few and far between, and it would seem that most of them are offline.

Just drive with the traffic flow, and let the tailgaters past. And should someone's driving offend you, don't worry, very soon you will have someone different to be offended by.

It's inevitable. Like death, or taxes. Or John Farnham comeback tours.

Rush hour changes things. What was three lanes becomes seven. An extra one for cars on the far left, and on the far right, and a lane between each of the other lanes, just big enough to fit a scooter through. Not really big enough to fit a Kancil(the Malaysian equivalent of a Daihatsu Curoe, or possibly a mini), but that won't stop anyone from trying. It's also just the right size for a fifty seater bus.

Two things consistently amaze me about rush hour traffic. The first is that the scooter riders seem to speed up. And don't seem to die. Which causes my logic driven mind to skip a beat.

The second thing causes my logic driven mind to blank out for a second or two, and loop over simple mathematical equations until things settle down again. Bikes are the quickest way through the mess. The second quickest way is on a bus.

They're faster than the ambulances. They give horn blasts for one and all, but no hoots are given for anyone. These bus drivers, the Schumacers of the Heavy Rigid scene, blast through traffic jams, barely altering their timetables. People actually drive behind them to speed up their transit.

I'm in awe. It's like Moses parting the red sea. With a bus. And air horns.

So. Watch out for the buses, because they'll flatten you.

Watch out for the scooters, because they seem to aim for you.

Otherwise, you can basically drive as you wish, without regard for signalling or road rules, but always keep in mind that everyone else on the road is driving in exactly that fashion as well.

And above all, watch out for people with their indicator on.

At no stage should you assume that they're signalling direction. More likely, they're staring hard at not the road, but their dashboard, and trying to figure out where that annoying clicking sound is coming from.