The Flashing Green Man

For whatever reason, I'm not particularly good at crossing streets. In New York, I'll often be the one person left on the near shore after others have artfully weaved through the traffic.

Eastern Europe is worse. The drivers are more reckless. They unfailingly speed, not that speed limits are well-marked. Many of the older cars spew forth a tractor trailer's worth of blackish smog. There are also motorcycles, mopeds, and bicycles. You can throw into this mess a fair number of trams, city buses, cable buses, coaches, the occasional donkey cart, and the indomitable old woman pushing her shopping contraption across the 5-way intersection. Sidewalks often count as additional lanes or parking spots. Traffic lights, where present, are mere suggestions of conduct. Below is the helpful signal I faced at a busy Macedonian intersection:

Apparently the bottom light bulb is 'walk' while the top light bulb is 'wait.' I suddently felt oddly nostalgic for the flashing green man.