Entrée
Typical Saigon trafficOn a cool Saigon night, the corps de ballet lines up behind me. Five wide and three deep, they wait for the light to change. To my left, a trendy Vietnamese teen rides her vintage Vespa. To my right, a smartly clad office worker in a business suit sits atop her gleaming new Yamaha Nouvo. These, my lead ballerinas, stand with me at the front of the corps. As the red light counts down, the dancers rev their engines in anticipation. Green light and the dancers all pounce forward in a grand jeté. The wind blows in my face as I savor the beauty of the dance. Ahead, a pedestrian blocks our way - a rock in the stream - but we adjust without the slightest hesitation. I weave right. Vespa girl weaves left. As my alley approaches and I prepare for my coda, I look to my right and give a small nod to Yamaha girl - great performance, see you again at the 7 o'clock show. She looks at me as though I'm crazy. And... she's right. I am completely and hopelessly insane.
A Story of Loss and Redemption
VeronicaI have always had a love of the road. Whether the wide open freeways of the California desert, the winding mountain passes of Lake Tahoe or the scenic byways of the Pacific Coast Highway. People often ask why I name my cars, but for me it is equally confusing how you could not give a name to someone so important in your life. When I decided to leave San Francisco, I was prepared for a lengthy litany of difficult good-byes, but I was surprised at how painful one particular good-bye was. Veronica, I have not forgotten you.
There are nights I can still feel the open wound of not having my trusty car by my side, but when I moved here I decided that my life and well-being were slightly more important than having wheels. Of course, it's natural to come to Vietnam and be in abject fear of the traffic here. Every visitor remembers their first time crossing the street in Vietnam: the sea of headlights, the honking, the exhaust, the utter terror of being caught in the midst of it all, naked as a newborn babe. And yet, life as a pedestrian was an alien thing to me. I was an amputee with a terrible itch where once were limbs.
I had tried scratching the itch before, when my ex-girlfriend taught me to drive a motorbike, but it just wouldn't stick. From the semi-manual transmission that seemed to mock me at every turn, to the broken electric starter that required me to kickstart the bike (with hilarious results), to the old engine that stalled at every intersection, the fates denied me my star-crossed lover.
It was only when I was preparing to move to a new house away from the city center that the gears of destiny began to grind. Faced with the prospect of living in exile in Binh Thanh district without transportation, I knew something had to be done. Something logical. Something practical. Something... magical.
Bippity Boppity Boo
You will always remember your first time. For me, it's hard to talk about in specifics. Rather, I remember it like a Van Gogh - painted with swatches of feeling and emotion rather than oils. I remember excitement. The excitement of... of not dying to be honest; there was the thrill of being enveloped by the chaos of Vietnam of traffic and coming out alive. I remember the coolness. The coolness of the wind in your face, an instant retreat from the heat of Indochina. I remember freedom. The freedom of having the entire city open to me, my proverbial oyster. But most of all, I remember love. The warm loving embrace of a homecoming. For this was my home. The moment I set wheel on the streets of Saigon, I knew I was always meant to be here. That first day, I must have ridden for hours with no destination at all.
My Life As A Bee
The most magical part of life on Saigon's streets is that it actually works. Without rules for the most part, the system still functions. The entire traffic population of Vietnam is in sync with each other, a giant hive mind. Sometimes, you will find Westerners who try to drive here and they just can't get it. Barnacles of the democratic free world, they cling to such antiquated ideas as "right of way", "rules of the road" and "road courtesy". Coming from places where motorists' rights are handed down from the mountain on stone tablets, they get mad when they're cut off, they are offended when they're honked at and they are confused when they see someone driving down the street the wrong way.
There are a few things you must learn to master the ways of the motorbike in Vietnam. Rule #1 - There is no right of way. The right to do something belong solely to the motorist who can do it. If you want to turn left across traffic, simply inch out into traffic. At some point, you will block someone who will slow down, at which point you move forward and start blocking someone else. Wash, rinse and repeat until you cross traffic. Rule #2 - Take a deep breath. In the West, the honk is a vehicular middle finger, with the length of the honk indicating the amount of offense intended. In Vietnam, honking is not an expression of rage but rather the modern day whale song; it acts as both reverse-sonar and communication. Without the anonymity and protection of a car's frame, Vietnamese tend to engage in much less road rage honking. More to the point, take your attention off the road for a few seconds to indulge your road rage and it could be the last thing you ever do. Rule #3 - Eyes front. There is a very simple hierarchy of responsibility on the road in Vietnam: avoid anything in front of you and trust that anyone behind you will do the same for you. To be specific, your primary responsibility is the 90° arc in front of you, with the secondary responsibility being the full 180° when you're making big lateral movements. Waste your time watching for vehicles behind you and you'll find out what a Vietnamese pancake is really fast.
For those able to adjust to life on the streets of Vietnam, the reward is freedom. It's ironic that we must come to a socialist country to find the purest expression of libertarian freedom. Some people can't give up their individualism to become part of the hive mind, but me, I'm a happy little bee.
Typical Saigon traffic
A Story of Loss and Redemption
Veronica
There are nights I can still feel the open wound of not having my trusty car by my side, but when I moved here I decided that my life and well-being were slightly more important than having wheels. Of course, it's natural to come to Vietnam and be in abject fear of the traffic here. Every visitor remembers their first time crossing the street in Vietnam: the sea of headlights, the honking, the exhaust, the utter terror of being caught in the midst of it all, naked as a newborn babe. And yet, life as a pedestrian was an alien thing to me. I was an amputee with a terrible itch where once were limbs.
I had tried scratching the itch before, when my ex-girlfriend taught me to drive a motorbike, but it just wouldn't stick. From the semi-manual transmission that seemed to mock me at every turn, to the broken electric starter that required me to kickstart the bike (with hilarious results), to the old engine that stalled at every intersection, the fates denied me my star-crossed lover.
It was only when I was preparing to move to a new house away from the city center that the gears of destiny began to grind. Faced with the prospect of living in exile in Binh Thanh district without transportation, I knew something had to be done. Something logical. Something practical. Something... magical.
Bippity Boppity Boo
You will always remember your first time. For me, it's hard to talk about in specifics. Rather, I remember it like a Van Gogh - painted with swatches of feeling and emotion rather than oils. I remember excitement. The excitement of... of not dying to be honest; there was the thrill of being enveloped by the chaos of Vietnam of traffic and coming out alive. I remember the coolness. The coolness of the wind in your face, an instant retreat from the heat of Indochina. I remember freedom. The freedom of having the entire city open to me, my proverbial oyster. But most of all, I remember love. The warm loving embrace of a homecoming. For this was my home. The moment I set wheel on the streets of Saigon, I knew I was always meant to be here. That first day, I must have ridden for hours with no destination at all.
My Life As A Bee
The most magical part of life on Saigon's streets is that it actually works. Without rules for the most part, the system still functions. The entire traffic population of Vietnam is in sync with each other, a giant hive mind. Sometimes, you will find Westerners who try to drive here and they just can't get it. Barnacles of the democratic free world, they cling to such antiquated ideas as "right of way", "rules of the road" and "road courtesy". Coming from places where motorists' rights are handed down from the mountain on stone tablets, they get mad when they're cut off, they are offended when they're honked at and they are confused when they see someone driving down the street the wrong way.
There are a few things you must learn to master the ways of the motorbike in Vietnam. Rule #1 - There is no right of way. The right to do something belong solely to the motorist who can do it. If you want to turn left across traffic, simply inch out into traffic. At some point, you will block someone who will slow down, at which point you move forward and start blocking someone else. Wash, rinse and repeat until you cross traffic. Rule #2 - Take a deep breath. In the West, the honk is a vehicular middle finger, with the length of the honk indicating the amount of offense intended. In Vietnam, honking is not an expression of rage but rather the modern day whale song; it acts as both reverse-sonar and communication. Without the anonymity and protection of a car's frame, Vietnamese tend to engage in much less road rage honking. More to the point, take your attention off the road for a few seconds to indulge your road rage and it could be the last thing you ever do. Rule #3 - Eyes front. There is a very simple hierarchy of responsibility on the road in Vietnam: avoid anything in front of you and trust that anyone behind you will do the same for you. To be specific, your primary responsibility is the 90° arc in front of you, with the secondary responsibility being the full 180° when you're making big lateral movements. Waste your time watching for vehicles behind you and you'll find out what a Vietnamese pancake is really fast.
For those able to adjust to life on the streets of Vietnam, the reward is freedom. It's ironic that we must come to a socialist country to find the purest expression of libertarian freedom. Some people can't give up their individualism to become part of the hive mind, but me, I'm a happy little bee.
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