I step off the curb and immediately my heart starts racing.
Vroom! A flash of noise and exhaust speeds by my face. You read about this
Cindy. Just walk slowly across the street. They don’t want to hit you as much
as you don’t want them to hit you. The art
of crossing the street amidst the sea of motorbikes in Hanoi, Vietnam is more
like a twisted version of a Super Mario Game. Mario has to jump from one block
to another at the perfect moment to avoid getting blown up by a passing
cannonball, except the cannonballs have a far more predictable path and timing
than the motorbikes.
All I want is to get to my hotel as quickly and safely as
possible. The sidewalks are wide enough but they are just a tease. In the Old
Quarter, they also serve as a parking lot for motorbikes and function as a
makeshift flea market for the hundreds of locals selling their baskets of furry
lychees, bruised bananas, and the enticing sugared donuts.
So, I am forced to
walk in between the busy traffic and the cluttered curb. Whack! I
unsuccessfully attempted to squeeze between a taxi I thought was not moving,
and the baskets of goodies that had overflowed onto the street. The taxi driver
decided to move forward as I stepped over a basket and the side mirror hooked
my arm. Or did my arm hook the side mirror? Either way, I rebalanced myself
quick enough to avoid smashing the fruit below and the imminent bashing the
woman would have given me while making me pay for what I damaged.
If Hanoi had a soundtrack, it would consist of the myriad of
honking horns present on every street at all hours of the day here. Each honk
has its own message it is trying to communicate. To the untrained ear they all
sound like a collage of painfully annoying sounds that serve no purpose except
to disturb. On the contrary, this form of communication is a part of the city’s
structured chaos.
Here are some of the honks and their corresponding messages:
1.)
The light, quick, single high-pitched tap of the motos: “Hey
I’m right next to you, or I’m passing you”
2.)
The quick succession of loud, sharp honks of motos and cars:
“I am coming through the intersection so don’t hit me, or I’m passing you
whether you like it or not so let me pass.”
3.)
The very loud,
deep, frightening honk of a giant truck that takes up the entire width of the
street: “I’m coming up behind you, and if you don’t move I will have no choice
but to run you over!”
4.) The
echoed horn of the many shuttle buses and tour buses: “ I’m passing you and
have a large load of people so you need to let me back in before the oncoming
car hits us.”
