A Canadian in Vietnam

It has been a long time since my last update; I will do my best to get caught up. Surprisingly I have had some people asking me for the next installment. And, I am not sure if I even know them! So, for the avid readers of my “where’s Ron” (kinda like Where’s Waldo) travel blog, here is the next installment.

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A Canadian in Vietnam

What a trip, Vietnam! Exhilarating, scary, confusing and several other emotions…but most of all fun and eye opening.

I had an early flight to Ho Chi Minh City (the old Saigon). This is the plane I was flying on from Singapore (I think!)




We made it Ho Chi Minh, and I am now on my way to a presentation.

I am finished with the meeting and we took a picture outside the
Institute we were visiting. I did not know I was going directly
to a meeting when I got off the plane, so I was in jeans and T-shirt. But this was ok!

I found out you do not walk in Vietnam, it could be very dangerous, and I tried it! How do you get around? You ride - a motorcycle, a bicycle, a pedicab…Yes there are sidewalks, but to the Vietnamese, and most other South East Asian countries, a sidewalk is a place to park you motorcycle, to eat (sitting on a low plastic stool), to sell your wares… a place for almost anything except walking. I just left Singapore and it is the same there, the only way to walk dragging a suitcase is on the road beside the sidewalk.

See what I mean about the side walks.

In Vietnam, there are more motorcycles per capita than any country on this earth. An entire family can ride on a motorcycle at the same time, the father driving with junior standing in front holding the handle bars, and mother sitting behind him carrying the baby who is sound asleep despite the roar and incessant honking of rush hour traffic. Yes, your math is correct, 4 persons on a small motorcycle with or without helmets. I have seen up to five. They are definitely good drivers. I remember not to long ago taking Tommy Martin to the Westsyder on the back of my Honda scooter, and could hardly control it. I told him he had to walk home; I wonder if he made it?

The view through the taxi window, I was in the back seat, as usual,

I never sit in the front seat…too scary!

I asked my host why so many people are sitting around on top of their motorcycles for hours on end, he said it’s not a good idea to leave your bike unattended in this country- it might get stolen, fast! Most Vietnamese pay someone to watch their motorcycles when they are not using them, so these people are the bike sitters, watching up to 3 or 4 bikes at a time. Motorcycle taxi drivers even eat and sleep on their motorcycles while waiting for fares.

Well, this is not a motorcycle, but you get the picture. I will get another one later.

Saturday night in Ho Chi Minh City (the old Saigon), men drive their dates to the waterfront and park. In other areas of the city you can see rows of couples sitting on their bikes, talking and kissing.

Motorcycle dump truck I want one for home. I can use this.

Even though the car taxi fare for a short distance in the city is only around 1 dollar, I still preferred to walk. I do this a lot; this is how I get a sense of the city, the culture and the people, and darn it, I do like to walk. This raises the ire of the motorcycle taxi drivers, who shout “motorbike, motorbike!” or “motorbike you!” at me every few minutes. I have to learn the polite way of saying, “No I prefer not to ride on your death mobile today” I did this once, and I still wake up in cold sweats at night!

WalMart deliver van….I mean bike.

This one was priceless! This is the local butcher shop on a delivery.
I got a few more of this one if anyone wants them send. I love Vietnam.
Where else would you get this? Well, maybe China.

Actually, to call these guys “motorcycle taxi drivers” is to glorify their behavior, as often they’re not taxi drivers but just guys on bikes who happen to be passing by. The one time I did succumb to this adventure was hair-raising to say the least. Prior to mounting the steed, I thought I should maybe get to know the guy a little and let him know I have children and grandchildren at home, and a few others that love me. He said his name was Ngue, and away we went. Well, immediately my suspicions about Vietnamese motorcyclers were confirmed. We were stopped at a red light right away, and I think the only reason he stopped was a large semi truck was already coming through the intersection. Off we went, out front, it felt a little safer, but on the opposite side of the road, the oncoming traffic look chaotic. Then a motorcycle from the oncoming traffic veered into our lane to pass the traffic in his lane, attempting an impossible pass. With a family of four bearing down on us, I was flinching like I had swallowed a mouthful of thumb tacks, and I made a futile attempt to use Ngue as a steering wheel and –WHAM – the foot rest of the oncoming bike whacked my foot as it passed. Thank goodness I was wearing shoes and not the sandals I normally was wearing. Ngue stopped the bike while the other driver continued his demolition derby driving.

“He is really crazy”, Ngue said, as I got off the bike and hobbled around. I checked my foot and it looked ok, but that evening my baby toe had turned blue, broken again! This poor toe has been broken several times, but never in this manner. He said get on, and I did….can you imagine? I think I was in shock! He did get me to my destination, and I walked home.

The one thing I did learn in Vietnam, was, do not run across the road. But I could not help myself, because, well what do you do when you have 3000 vehicles all around you blowing their horns, driving erratically….run Forest! And I did. But I got scolded by my host. Next road crossing he took me by the arm and said…stay with me. All I could think of was the motorcycle taxi guy who said “trust me”. Well, I made it half way across and bolted. It was a good run and I smiled as my host was still struggling to get across the road. You see, as young boy I lived on the Queen Elizabeth Highway and had to cross this every morning on the way to school (starting at 4 yrs old). And I survived. A few of my friends did not make it, but I had the rhythm.

The next time though I did get it! The roads in Vietnam really are orchestrated chaos. And believe it or not, it is easier to cross just simply walking and doing the street crossing dance. As I said, I got the rhythm!

This lady is a traffic control volunteer. I watched for awhile.

I think these people who do this, for no pay, bless there hearts

for trying to do something, have a death wish.

Well I gotta run now, my flight to India has been called and if I want to make the flight I better go. Do look here again, as I have more to share on Vietnam…and other places. Take care ya all!