Magic on the road

I had a sore butt, a burned arm and a deep cut on my leg, yet I still had to walk to the guesthouse. As I limped my way through, a big tall guy dressed in a full leather outfit approached me on his bike. He had a very serious look as if he’d known what had happened. He tapped me on the shoulder, gave me a big smile and said: you want motorbike? Good Vietnamese, no money.
I thanked him and got on. As we road home, I didn’t mind the pain, the traffic nor the crazy driving. I had gotten my wish… I’d experienced Vietnam.

A war veteran had sold her to me. The most beautiful bicycle you’d ever seen. She was simple and what she lacked in fancy features, she made up in awesomeness. She was black and had a bell with an “I love my bike” sticker on it. Oh yeah, I was touring this country, local style.

Vietnamese traffic is very peculiar. It pretty much lacks, well, rules. The right of way is yielded to the biggest vehicle, and the more you honk, the cooler you are.
“D le Duan”, also known as highway 1, is the main road that connects the major cities of Hanoi and Saigon. It’s decent and has quite broad shoulders to accommodate two-wheel drivers, apparently making it safe to tour.

The scenery is breathtaking. Killer beaches, beautiful rice fields and old ladies with conical hats. Not to mention the sites, which hold a most compelling story.
As I ride my way through I’m received with hundreds of “hello’s” and the occasional race challenge from the kids. If I’m lucky I will get a glass of sugarcane juice, my natural Gatorade.

I was riding to a beautiful sunset, when suddenly… BAM!!! I flew out of my seat and landed on something so hot that it made me jump straight onto my feet. Holding my butt with both hands, I jumped around and screamed my heart out. I pretty much resembled Elmer Fudd after an encounter with the rabbit. The pain went away and I quickly composed myself. I had gotten away with just a burn and a cut.

Two girls on a motorbike had hit me. They were in pain but seemed ok. The vehicles, on the other hand, had been wrecked. In a matter of minutes, we were surrounded by hundreds of people fighting for my attention. I didn’t understand what was happening. I got scared and confused. Communication was nearly impossible, but somehow I ended up on the back of a truck. We arrived at the police station were a translator explained to me that it was time for “The Discussion”. In Vietnam disputes are settled through negotiation. I was laughed at when I only asked for a cab home.

Again, communication was difficult, so I was dropped off at the city center.
I was hurt, mentally drained and shocked; yet I was happy.