It is never surprising that there will be differences in cultures, yet the differences always seem to surprise.  On Saturday we went to Bamenda, the nearest city which is about 45 minutes by taxi.  You must understand that Cameroonian taxis are generally older Toyotas, similar in size to a small sedan or hatchback.  You can fit 4-5 passengers in the back seat, and 4 in the front (no, really).  If you are next to the driver, you have to straddle the gear shift and learn to be comfortable with a strange man routinely placing his hands between your knees to accomplish a necessary goal.  The ride there (costing about $2 American) was quite nice, and our driver was careful, calm, and observant of the few road laws that exist.  Our driver on the way back was probably calm, or at least he didn’t look agitated, but otherwise it was an entirely different experience.  Right-of-way in the city belongs to whoever is operating the larger car, or gets their hood into the intersection first.  He seemed to genuinely enjoy pushing these limits.    Our driver, certain that his car was able to defy the generally accepted laws of physics, decided to gun-it up a hill by driving along what I can only describe as a giant pothole with several small pieces of road in it.  Of course our taxi got stuck half way up.  What really struck me, however, was the attitude of the other passengers in the cab; the men all got out, and we pushed the cab while he gunned the engine.  The car did eventually get to the top of the hill.  You can imagine this happening in America: “Your boss is going to hear about this,” and “I demand a refund,” and “I’ll sue!”  Here we all laughed, and joked about not needing to work out for the rest of the week (“we di no need for make sport all week now” in Pigeon).  We got back in the car, and finished the ride.  To his credit, the hill would have been a great short-cut.