My decision to get a motorbike was prompted by a move into a new apartment in District 5 of Ho Chi Minh City. Prior to this, I'd been on the outskirts of the backpacker ghetto, within easy walking distance of just about everything I could want. Granted, walking isn't always the best exercise--in many places, sidewalks are theoretical at best. But, if I needed to go farther afield, I wouldn't usually be out more than $2 for a taxi, less for a xe om. Things have changed here is District 5-land. Some places are within walking distance, like the grocery store, but it's quite the hike in the spring heat, especially when you're lugging your purchases. It's a taxi back to the backpacker area, it's a longer ride to school, it's a taxi to Yoga class, to friends' houses, blah blah. The amounts really add up.
So I made a sad goodbye to my motorbike driver, to whom I gifted a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black for good measure, and then got ready to lose my mind (hopefully only figuratively) on the streets of Saigon.
This has been nothing short of a grand adventure, resulting in as much bewilderment as knowledge gained.
It has added a new shade of function to my days, the most important of which is survival. I've been batting around some different ways I could blog about driving in Saigon (in fact, driving in Saigon could probably be a whole other blog in itself), but I'm just going to settle for a good old-fashioned journal-style layout which I hope shows the evolution of my on-road attitude this last month.
Week 1:
Whoo!
I end every ride with a newfound appreciation for life, shaky hands, and about five cigarettes. Being able to survive even a modest 1-mile drive to work is suddenly one of the greatest feats of my day. It's easy to get comfortable fairly quickly on the motorbike, and already I'm seeing the advantages of being able to get up and do whatever I like when the moment strikes me.
Parking is my nemesis, though. My bike is big and unwieldy.
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| I mean, look at what I'm working with here. |
Week 2:
Erratic. That's the word I'm looking for. Drivers here are erratic. They swerve in front of you, cut you off, then slow down and weave all over the place because their cell-phones are ringing, or they're looking at something on the side of the street, or they're just happy they got in front of you and want to celebrate by slowing down again. These people also exist on freeways in the US, and they are equally annoying.
Although, it is rather difficult to stay in a straight line on a scooter. Any slight lean will make you trail off in whatever direction, and you're constantly swerving back and forth anyways to accommodate your instinctive need for a space cushion in traffic. Plus, there's potholes and huge storm drains or some other muck that maybe you don't want to run over.
I'm getting better at this though, it's even a little good for me. You've gotta have focus at all times, so whenever I'm on the street I'm totally in the moment.
And, I'm all over the place. Seeing parts of Ho Chi Minh hitherto unknown. The worst is driving to District 10 in the morning, though. There's no good route, and it's the mother of chaos--Every possible thing is happening all the time. People are swerving at you from the oncoming lane, people are driving on the wrong side of the road trying to get into the oncoming lane, someone's shooting out of an alley without a care in the world, a taxi's pulling a U-turn in the middle of a major thoroughfare while pedestrians waddle through the hoarde, and now there's an ambulance careening through the traffic circle sirens blaring and I'm pretty sure a car just knocked someone off their motorbike less than five feet away.
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| I call this place: Battledome. |
This level of awareness cannot be achieved without proper nutrition. Never drive on an empty stomach, and a little bit of coffee.
Week 3:
It helps to think of all the beeeeeep beepbeepbeep!'s as: meeeeeeeee! me me me meeee!'s. This makes them easier to decode.
beep! (short, once): Hello, me here, right beside you, don't swerve into me please!
beep! (short, once, to a pedestrian): Me first!
beep-beep! (short, twice): Me again! I'm passing you because you are driving erratically and it's starting to freak me out, so don't swerve into me please!
beep-beep! (short, twice, at a stoplight): Me again! Just wanted to let you know that the light's green, so now is not the best time to finish that text.
beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep! (long, once): Allright. Now you done pissed me off.
beeeeeep beep-beep-beep-beep-beeeeeeeep (etc.): Hey there, it's your old pal me! I'm coming through and I don't give a fuck, so MOVE IT OR I WILL DESTROY YOU.
This last one I don't ever use. But I know it when I hear it.
Week 4:
I'm happy to report that I've found religion on the streets on Saigon. At least, you might think that if you went by how often I scream Jesus CHRIST! while driving.
It's another advantage of being in a place that doesn't speak my language--I can yell all sorts of obscenities when the craziness gets to me, made all the more cathartic by the fact that no one understands, cares about, or even hears what I'm saying.
I went to lunch with a Vietnamese friend yesterday. Having never been to this restaurant before, I had to follow him with my bike. I jokingly asked not to drive too fast, which he took to mean: drive as slow as possible without your motorbike falling over. It was a nice and considerate move on his part, but mind-boggling. I have very little patience on a bike. Going too slow, you feel like a sitting duck.
In other news, the multitasking required of both hands on a motorbike is now starting to aggravate my carpals.
