Two bullocks are pulling acart along a dirt road. Trees and lush vegetation line the road. — *I’m guessing they have right of way © A. Harrison*

There’s an expression about coming from the wrong side of the tracks. In Budapest there’s the right and wrong side of the river, as I’m sure exists in many a town. (Apparently you dates a person from one side but marries someone from the other. I forget which side is which.)

But when travelling, I never know which side of the foot path to walk on.

I tend to follow the road rules. I was in Hong Kong. It’s been a while since the handover, but since Hong Kong was once a British colony people drive on the left hand side of the road. So I stuck to left when walking, but it didn’t seem to really work. Markets are always a free for all, but most people seemed too attached to their phones to notice where they were going. In contrast, wandering through the flower markets, I was so distracted by the heady scent of all the blooms I didn’t have time to think about where to walk. The flower markets opened onto the bird markets. These were filled with elderly gentlemen sharing tea while discussing their birds, who hung in cages next to them, filling the place with song. Fortunately the markets weren’t too crowded, and I managed the obstacle of people.

A sepia image of a pedestrian street in Hong Kong made of steps. It is filled with people and make-shift shops. — *The streets of Hong Kong, often more steps than street. © A. Harrison*

After Hong Kong I left for Scandinavia – surely the walking rules should be reversed here?. Which, remarkably, they were – the place proved a lot more ordered and structured than the chaos of Hong Kong. Plus it with the temperatures falling there were not many tourists. This helped, for in my jet-lagged state I kept wandering to the wrong side of the tracks. I can tell how tired I’m by how much of a ziz-zag I make as I walk along the street. (Though it’s said Australians can never walk in a straight line, possibly because we have a large sense of personal space. With a population density of 2.7 people/km, it’s hardly surprising.)

Yet whatever country I’m in, I find trying to make headway the hardest in airports. Here, it seems, it’s everyone for themselves. People are so tired, and so stressed as they rush towards gates, or wandering aimlessly as they fill in time while trying to stay awake, that few seem to look beyond their own feet. It’s like a shopping the night before Christmas – the rules of civilisation vanish.

The Northern Lights seen above a row of snow-topped cabins. — *The magical Northern Lights © A. Harrison*

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