March 19 Facing the traffic (literally) in Ho Chi Minh city

Trekking in northern Thailand, white water rafting in Malawi or paragliding
in Israel... nothing compared to riding a motorbike through Ho Chi Minh City
(also still known as Saigon). Now I know I promised myself I would not get
on a motorbike unless absolutely necessary, seeing as they are the main
cause of tourist deaths and accidents overseas, but in Saigon, there are no
buses. They tried instituting a bus system once, but the four people who
made use of the system couldn't pay enough to keep it running and kept
arguing as to who would get the front seat so they scrapped the idea. The
thing is, there is so much traffic from motorbikes, anyway, that's the
fastest way to get around.

On my way into Saigon, I had noticed a view from a bridge that I really
wanted to photograph and it seemed a two-wheeled vehicle was the only means
of getting there, unless I wanted to pay $20 US for a taxi. Not being a
motorbike driver myself, I hired one of the myriad who sit outside
guesthouses and hotels. They are dying for work and only charge about $1 to
take you half way across the city and back. It was not the first time I'd
used a "moto-taxi" as they're called. In Phnom Penh, I had a ride on one
from the bus station to my guest house and then used him to go all over the
city the next few days. But Phnom Penh is nowhere near Saigon for motorbike
density. There are, apparently, 2.5 million motorbikes in the city. That's
about one for every four people. And they outnumber cars by about 100,000 to
one. So they rule the road.

In general, bicycles and cars stick to the right side of the road. But
that's just in general. Going the wrong way, facing traffic on a two-way
street or even the wrong way on a one-way street is pretty common. After
all, why go around the block when the destination you want is just up a
one-way street? Plus, if you miss you're destination, well, just pull a
U-turn. Doesn't matter where you are -- one way, two way, in the middle of
an intersection or smack in the middle of a zillion other bikes, just put
your turn signal on (or not), stick an arm out at a sort of downward angle
in the direction you plan to turn (or not) and away you go. People will
either make way for you or not.

The general rule is, the faster the motorbike, the more right of way it has.
Even cars give way to fast motorbikes. In North America, if four vehicles
stop at an intersection at the same time, the one who got there first, or
the one on the right, has the right of way. In Asia, if four bikes enter an
intersection at the same time (no one actually STOPS at an intersection) the
one who reaches the middle first or who looks like they are going to get to
the middle first has the right of way and everyone else slows down. Then
they all pass each other and continue on their way, with hardly a change in
momentum. But instead of four bikes coming into an intersection at the same
time, you have four hundred bikes coming into the intersection and, somehow,
they all figure out who's going to go where first and they all make it to
the other side.

The whole movement of traffic is like a giant, well-rehearsed, Superbowl
half-time show, with cars, bikes, trishaws and motorbikes weaving in and out
of traffic, facing each other, passing each other or beside each other. All
within a few inches of each other. As I sat on the back of my driver's bike,
I could feel the heat from other people's exhaust pipes on my legs, big
plastic bags brushed my thighs and, on more than one occasion, I had to
squeeze my knees into the bike because I thought I was going to get
knee-capped by an oncoming motorist.

A typical example of rogue traffic flow is when someone wants to get into
traffic, lets say from an alleyway. If they want to get into the lane
closest to them, no problem, they just turn right and join the flow. But if
they want to go the other direction, there's no way to wait for traffic to
stop to let them through so, instead, they turn left, against traffic, right
beside the sidewalk. At the first opportunity, they weave into the middle of
oncoming traffic. Really. Straight into the middle of four or five rows of
motorbikes, who just swerve around them as if they were approaching an open
manhole in the middle of the street. The rogue bike then weaves over another
row, then another and another until they are finally on the opposite side of
the street going in the direction that they want.

Meanwhile, someone coming towards them decides it's just the right moment
for a U-turn so they turn in front of this rogue bike, who is now forced to
slow down (a fate worse than hell) or join them in the direction they are
turning for a few feet, wait for them to pass and then continue in their
rogue direction.

Add to this the fact that motorbikes are not just used for moving people.
Noooooo. Just about anything you can lift you can put on a motorbike --
televisions, bags of rice, fish, potatoes, durian, mangoes, whatever, a
refrigerator or two, 20-foot-loog pieces of two-by-fours, 30-foot long metal
poles and huge boxes of idunnowhat, often placed on the back seat at right
angles to the bike so they stick out about three feet on either side. How
these latter bikes get through traffic, when there is often barely enough
room for a bicycle to get through, should be one of the wonders of the
world.

As for my trip out to photograph the river, I made it out and back in one
piece with only a few squeals of fright, especially when we drove through
red lights, along with the other bazillion motorbikes driving through red
lights; my hands were sore from gripping the metal bar behind the rear seat;
my legs were cramped from squeezing the bike so hard; and I did actually
close my eyes on several occasions when we entered a particularly hellish
traffic fray. It was like a rollercoaster ride and roller derby rolled into
one.

Tomorrow, I walk.