The miracle of crossing the road

I woke up into Chinatown. Well, not exactly Chinatown but being an inexperienced traveller I was hardly perceptive enough to spot the differences. After a light breakfast and a quick chat Amit, Rentere (I think that was her name - anyways, we called her reni, moreover, we hardly called her at all), a Dutch girl we met at breakfast, and I took off to see the market. The market itself wasn't at all that exciting, it was the street that blew our minds away. Infinite amount of motor bikes flooded the pavement which in some places is called "road" and in others "sidewalk" though there isnt much of a difference between them, at least not when it comes to safety matters. When we reached some main road we needed to cross we received our first "crossing the road" lesson, and it went something like this: dozens of motor cycles raging down the road, not ever thinking to slow near some white strips drawn on the road, and one taxi driver yelling "pass pass" at us. After a few seconds he realized us westerns are not good at taking orders, and slightly pushed us into the road. In a miraculous pattern the bikes started passing around us in a magic like way second only to the parting of the sea previously performed by Moses. We started walking, slowly yet "safely". Finally we were on the other side, looking back we couldn't believe there is any way to cross this road, yet this is the way to do it here - just start walking, and if you believe, pray.