There are two ways in which to really explore and experience Hanoi: as a pedestrian, and as a passenger on the back on a motorcycle, or xe om (pronounced 'zay ohm').
Crossing the street in Hanoi is like playing Russian roulette. There are five gazillion frantically revving motorcycles rushing at you from all different directions and you have to weave your way through the traffic and try not to get hit. Like Montreal, if you are a pedestrian, you have no rights whatsoever. You are a moving target, potential roadkill. My friend Celine, who visited Vietnam a few years ago, explained to me prior to my departure that crossing the street can be very "Zen-like" experience. You are supposed to wade into the street and assume your position like a rock in the middle of a stream. Then the motorcycles, like the water in the stream, are supposed to just effortlessly pass around you. Maybe that's why motorcycles are pronounced "zay ohm" - the "ohhhhmmmm" part is supposed to be "zen".
When Thuy helped me cross the street on my first day in Hanoi, she tightly held onto my elbow and guided me to the other side, flinching all the way. After that brief lesson, I was on my own. First, you have to get your timing right. In North America and most European cities, cars face red lights and a little man illuminates to signal that you have the "all clear". This is fairly easy timing to follow, though the Vietnamese must find this way quite monotonous and controlled. In Hanoi, crossing the street is akin to performing the waltz, or a game of hopscotch, or a modified hi-lo aerobics routine, or the tango - just performed in a very public arena. It's safe to say that you'll never just cross the street, you'll dance across.
Crossing the street in Hanoi is like playing Russian roulette. There are five gazillion frantically revving motorcycles rushing at you from all different directions and you have to weave your way through the traffic and try not to get hit. Like Montreal, if you are a pedestrian, you have no rights whatsoever. You are a moving target, potential roadkill. My friend Celine, who visited Vietnam a few years ago, explained to me prior to my departure that crossing the street can be very "Zen-like" experience. You are supposed to wade into the street and assume your position like a rock in the middle of a stream. Then the motorcycles, like the water in the stream, are supposed to just effortlessly pass around you. Maybe that's why motorcycles are pronounced "zay ohm" - the "ohhhhmmmm" part is supposed to be "zen".
When Thuy helped me cross the street on my first day in Hanoi, she tightly held onto my elbow and guided me to the other side, flinching all the way. After that brief lesson, I was on my own. First, you have to get your timing right. In North America and most European cities, cars face red lights and a little man illuminates to signal that you have the "all clear". This is fairly easy timing to follow, though the Vietnamese must find this way quite monotonous and controlled. In Hanoi, crossing the street is akin to performing the waltz, or a game of hopscotch, or a modified hi-lo aerobics routine, or the tango - just performed in a very public arena. It's safe to say that you'll never just cross the street, you'll dance across.
Being a passenger on a motorcycle taxi is an entirely different game altogether. According to the statistics, most Canadian casualties abroad are the result of motorcycle accidents. Every time I get on the back of a motorcycle taxi to go to work, it's a "risk". But motorcycle taxis are cheap and efficient, and the most widely used form of transportation here. Cars are slow, outnumbered, and guzzle too much gas. I was advised by Hieu, last year's Liaison Officer, to take motocycle taxis with older men, since they drive more responsibly and won't try to impress you by zooming at breakneck speeds and squeeze through impossible spaces.
Most of the time, I find riding xe oms an exhilirating experience, the wind blowing through my hair, the city whizzing past me, a rebel with a cause. Around 7pm, after the rush hour has died down and the city transitions to night, Hanoi is painted lovely pastel pinks and blues and yellows by the setting sun and riding around the city makes me just want to lean back and squeal "Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!".
Other times, you'll find me on the back of a bike gritting my teeth on the outside and secretly screeming on the inside. Thank goodness the government has issued a decree that everyone must start wearing helmits starting December 15th.
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