We Americans are so spoiled, aren't we,
when it comes to navigating our streets? Yes, yes, we endure our
traffic snarls, the occasional erratic or rude driver, the road
construction. But, we have a certain expectation, almost always
validated, that certain norms of behavior will be honored. We have
rules about lane usage, right of ways, spacing, and what we blandly
refer to as common courtesies. The same can be said for life on the
sidewalks. There are rules here too: pass on the right, don't
obstruct passage, restrict the walking lanes to pedestrian traffic.
I think you know what I mean.
Well folks.....welcome to Hanoi, or at
least the Old District of Hanoi where, fairly said, it is a world
gone mad. Here, chaos reigns. The only rule here is that there are
no rules. None that I could discern anyway. All I can say is that
Charles Darwin would be chortling with glee were he to witness this.
Imagine you are in a video game. The
object of the game is to avoid bumping into anything that moves on
the street or sidewalk: cars, buses, trucks, scooters, bikes, other
people. To get bonus points you have to cross the street. Safely.
Sounds simple, right? But, what you face? Oi zhay oi, the
Vietnamese would say: Oh my God! Imagine an unending, relentless
wave of motor vehicles carpeting the streets. Kind of like a lava
flow of motorized traffic. The traffic moves in all directions.
And, here, I'm not talking about left to right traffic all going in
one lane and the reverse in the other. No, no – that would make
it far too easy a game. No, here, the traffic streams in both
directions regardless of lane assignment. There are painted lines in
the streets, although for the life of me I'm not sure why. For
decoration, some locals suggest. Scooters merge into this maelstrom
without hesitation (and without so much as a casual glance) from
alleys, side streets and sidewalks. Factor in the occasional truck
or bus backing into the street at random intervals and you can only
watch the ensuing melodrama in slack jawed awe.
The sidewalks pose less of a mortal
threat, but a most challenging one nevertheless. Here, you learn
quickly that sidewalks are really not designed for flowing foot
traffic, but are instead areas designated for functions of daily
living that apparently cannot be contained any longer in the
buildings they front. It is the sidewalks where scooters and bikes
are parked. It is here that merchandise of all sorts is displayed
and sold. Haircuts are given here; women's hair is styled. Laundry
gets done here as does the cooking of family meals. Kids play,
adults sit on dwarf-like stools and play board games or just chat.
Essentially, life plays out here. Which means there is barely,
if any, room left for the individual who is merely trying to get from
here to there without daring to step into the already chaotic
streets. This “situation” leaves the average pedestrian between
the proverbial rock and a hard place.
But, back to crossing the streets –
the epicenter of our game. Given our Western mindset, we presumed at
first that the safe bet to avoid a run-in with the “lava flow”
would be to find a crosswalk at a traffic light, and wait for the
light to turn green. Sadly, our naivete was grandly on display. To
our befuddled consternation, we soon learned that traffic lights are,
apparently, mere suggestions, not the moral and legal imperatives we
observe at home. At first, given the almost insurmountable obstacles
we faced, we relied on our guide, Young, to lead the way. We would
watch him with unadorned adulation as he would step off the curb in
what at least he thought was an appropriate moment, and calmly hold
up his arm to signal our intentions, and just as calmly lead us
across the teeming streets in a manner that was oddly reminiscent of
Moses parting the Red Sea. It was magical. The cars, scooters,
trucks – they all worked their way around us almost as if a
collision would hurt them more than it would us. Amazing!
But, the question remained: how would
we fare when Young was not with us, when we had free time to roam the
city? At first, we would tiptoe ourselves off the curb and made sure
our bodies were as tensed up as we could muster. Then, we would take
a couple of steps forward and freeze, certain some guy on a scooter
with a mountain of bags, boxes, children, and God knows what else
aboard would smash into us. We would ultimately make it to the other
side muttering that we should have taken greater care in making sure
our life insurance policies had been updated.
After many attempts at this suicidal
folly, we began to understand that the secret was to “let go.”
The sooner we could achieve a zen-like state, the better. You'll be
fine, I said to myself. Just take a deep breath and refuse to let
any thoughts of impending doom enter your psyche. We'd wait for what
we thought was an auspicious moment, and calmly step into traffic
like we owned it. Unlike before, there were no backward steps; our
muscles relaxed. Just a forward glide. Arm extended high, eyes
fixed on the oncoming stampede, confidence the controlling
emotion.... and then go. Well....it worked. Pretty soon it was as
if we were almost daring scooters, cars and buses to hit us.
Of course, in hindsight, the confidence
– indeed, the cockiness – we developed was downright scary. When
we look back on the experience we will know we temporarily lost our
minds.
But, brother, were we piling up the
bonus points!
