"What the fuck? NO! Really?"
-" Really!? You're really gonna...."
"Yep - you're gonna...AW, C'MON!"
"Yep, You just did..."
This is the kind-of continuous internal dialogue that plays through my frontal lobe as I set foot-to-petal, hand-to-handlebar and careen dangerously atop my borrowed bicycle through the motorbike swollen streets of Saigon. It's been about a week now since I have "thrown myself into the deep-end" along with teenagers, old men, wobbly grandmothers and men and women of all ages, and although I have inhaled as much petrol smoke as the next guy, I still cannot fathom what the hell is
going on and why it keeps working (most times). I had theorized in the past that it was cooperation, patience and understanding that kept it all flowing and I still believe this to be true. Yet this knowledge ain't helping me on a moment-to-moment basis as I lurch headlong onto these seemingly "every man/woman/child/drunken teenager/senile senior citizen-for-themselves" streets. SO, necessity deems it a priority that I come up with something, anything to guide me as I try to maintain sanity and get to where I am going at the same time. I have come to the conclusion that there are, in fact, no tangible rules, no laws that govern these motor ridden lanes and avenues - still, after being in the trenches; on the "front line" day-in and day-out for the last week, I have come up with this: Two sentences. Two sentences that I imagine mothers and fathers and older brothers and sisters whisper to their loved ones while kicking them from the nest and setting them atop the family motorbike for the first time on their own; Two sentences that empart the entire philosophy, the entire milieu (oh, yes I did); all the intricacies and "modus operandi" that one must abide by while operating a vehicle in Vietnam. These two sentences, I imagine to be thus: TRY NOT TO HIT ANYBODY. DO YOUR BEST! This, I believe, is it. This is all. This is the glue that binds it all together. From there it is left up to each individual to add their own addendum, their own personal code of behavior that acts within the "Two Sentences". Mine has become this: Everything and everyone "behind" you is off limits in terms of responsibility or worry. Not your concern. You wanna turn left or right, no signal, no warning? - go ahead! Do it. You wanna make a WIDE right turn onto the busy street teeming with motorbike activity. Come now, stop wasting time! Move along! You wanna stop, suddenly in the middle of the road, take a gander in to see if your friend is at work? Yeah, sure! Why not? And please don't exert your delicate neck muscles by glancing over shoulders. Not your problem, that's for the folks behind you. How about vehicles, pedestrians and all unidentifiable contraptions of all kinds, sizes and materials coming from the "side", you ask? Yup, This one's on You. How about, you wonder, "things" in front of you? Are you fucking kidding me? YES, OF COURSE! And this includes all angles - straight on, diagonally and horizontally, acute, and obtuse - irregardless of street direction (one way means very little), stop signs and stoplight color. What was behind you seconds ago is now in front of you. Not your problem before - Your problem now. Oh, you can forget about shaking your fist in anger or allowing moments of frustration to arise if someone should "cut you off" because being cut off is a moment-to-moment occurrence in Saigon, and you better suck it up and get over it - Very quickly - because there's someone coming directly at you.... any sec....("What? REALLY? You really think that you should....") - The guy on the cell phone with his wife sitting behind him and baby wedged delicately between them has just come inches, inches from taking my front tire right out front under me (only seconds after nearly locking my handlebars) as he passes me. Uh Oh! - Pull it together fast cause there is an entire family pushing their refrigerator-sized glass-encased sandwich cart sluggishly across the street seemingly unaware of the 200 motorbikes that are bearing down on them from all angles, QUICK! Cut right...Wait! (WHAT? Really? You're actually choosing, CHOOSING to ride the opposite direction on a one way street with twelve cases of 333 Beer strapped to the back of your motorbike and check the latest Badminton scores on your cell phone at the same time? Really?) - QUICK, cut left! (never mind looking - that's the guy behind's problem) Oh shit, WAIT! The City bus fully loaded with 80 people has just decided to come ten feet over the center line (if there were a center line) to pass a stopped car on the side of the road and has just....WHHhoooOOMP! SHIT! - missed my left shoulder by only inches. I can still feel the heat and smell the exhaust from the tailpipe. "FUCK!" I yell out, looking for communal empathy from the guy on the motorbike inches from me that has just shared the same near-death experience as I. He's too busy texting a friend to notice. This is it - this is how it flows, day after day, every day here on the streets and avenues of Saigon. Most folks here have gotten so comfortable and relaxed with the process that it is common to see children and passengers asleep, ASLEEP! on the back of the motorbike, still clutching delicately onto the driver as they zip in and out of traffic. For me, though, everyday is another sweat-soaked, butt-clenched adventure.
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