Post from Michelle:
Maybe the cold I am battling contributed to my being overwhelmed, but my head swam with the sight before me. We had landed in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam an hour ago. As our taxi driver navigated through the streets on the way to a hotel, I stared in awe at the swarm of motorcycles before us. To the constant sound of our driver's horn honking, motorbikes zigzagged across our path in an endless stream.
The sidewalks looked like any other Asian country we've visited - outdoor cafes setting up for the dinner crowd, small shops displaying their wares, the familiar street stalls selling local food, and people laughing and conversing in small groups in front of buildings. These things did not overwhelm me. It was the traffic. There was so much of it and never ceasing!
I chuckled nervously, wondering how I was ever going to cross the street once I set out exploring the city. By observing others I thought maybe I could learn a lesson or two before I tried it myself. But unlike other cities I did not see many pedestrians braving the traffic. From the few I saw, I learned I must take it slow, inching my way across the road. Taking slow steps would give drivers enough time to account for my being in their path. Hopefully they would avoid me.
Once I got over the initial shock of the volume of traffic, I settled back to watch motorcycles speed past us. Women dressed fashionably in silk outfits sat upright and proper on their motorbikes, their noses and mouths covered with fabric masks to keep the black fumes out. A family of four whizzed by, all precariously perched on the one small seat. A young girl, still wearing her school uniform, nonchalantly merged her bicycle into the mass of traffic. I gasped as she came dangerously close to a speeding motorbike. She didn't even give it a glance. I realized for her it's just another typical ride home from school.
Sharing the road with the motorbikes are a few cars and trucks, many cyclos (three-wheeled rickshaws), buses, and bicycles. Our driver pulled up to a street known for it's cheap hotels, making it a magnet for backpackers. We pay him the agreed $5.00 and hop out. Immediately I have to face my fears. Our hotel was on the opposite side of the busy road. I looked to Tim for support, but apparently he didn't share my fear for he was already in the middle of the road, weaving in and out of traffic. I took a deep breath and looked for a small space to step into. Tears welled up in my eyes. I was truly overwhelmed by the steady stream of traffic, with no break in sight. I watched an old lady cross the street. She walked slowly and deliberately. The traffic flowed around her like water flowing around a rock in a stream. I followed her example and slowly crossed the street, taking slow, small steps. It seemed counter-intuitive to walk so slowly in the fast traffic. But the drivers could see me, see the pace I was walking, and anticipate my movement so they could navigate their vehicles around me. I felt like I was in the middle of a video game - attempting to avoid all the monsters trying to devour me! I made it to the other side, Tim standing there grinning at me. We both knew we accomplished a small victory - crossing the street in Ho Chi Minh City.
The sidewalks looked like any other Asian country we've visited - outdoor cafes setting up for the dinner crowd, small shops displaying their wares, the familiar street stalls selling local food, and people laughing and conversing in small groups in front of buildings. These things did not overwhelm me. It was the traffic. There was so much of it and never ceasing!
I chuckled nervously, wondering how I was ever going to cross the street once I set out exploring the city. By observing others I thought maybe I could learn a lesson or two before I tried it myself. But unlike other cities I did not see many pedestrians braving the traffic. From the few I saw, I learned I must take it slow, inching my way across the road. Taking slow steps would give drivers enough time to account for my being in their path. Hopefully they would avoid me.
Once I got over the initial shock of the volume of traffic, I settled back to watch motorcycles speed past us. Women dressed fashionably in silk outfits sat upright and proper on their motorbikes, their noses and mouths covered with fabric masks to keep the black fumes out. A family of four whizzed by, all precariously perched on the one small seat. A young girl, still wearing her school uniform, nonchalantly merged her bicycle into the mass of traffic. I gasped as she came dangerously close to a speeding motorbike. She didn't even give it a glance. I realized for her it's just another typical ride home from school.
Sharing the road with the motorbikes are a few cars and trucks, many cyclos (three-wheeled rickshaws), buses, and bicycles. Our driver pulled up to a street known for it's cheap hotels, making it a magnet for backpackers. We pay him the agreed $5.00 and hop out. Immediately I have to face my fears. Our hotel was on the opposite side of the busy road. I looked to Tim for support, but apparently he didn't share my fear for he was already in the middle of the road, weaving in and out of traffic. I took a deep breath and looked for a small space to step into. Tears welled up in my eyes. I was truly overwhelmed by the steady stream of traffic, with no break in sight. I watched an old lady cross the street. She walked slowly and deliberately. The traffic flowed around her like water flowing around a rock in a stream. I followed her example and slowly crossed the street, taking slow, small steps. It seemed counter-intuitive to walk so slowly in the fast traffic. But the drivers could see me, see the pace I was walking, and anticipate my movement so they could navigate their vehicles around me. I felt like I was in the middle of a video game - attempting to avoid all the monsters trying to devour me! I made it to the other side, Tim standing there grinning at me. We both knew we accomplished a small victory - crossing the street in Ho Chi Minh City.