We spotted them from across the street: badminton shuttlecocks popping into the air, high-kicking feet whacking them back and forth like a game of hacky sack. It was our first night in Ho Chi Minh City. We wanted to escape our backpacker ghetto and meet the real Saigon (as the city is still casually called). All we needed to do was cross the street… if only we knew how.
Saigon's motorbikes: They're not honking at you. They're honking with you.
"Honda as a birthright." On their first visit to Vietnam, Dave's fiancee Kattina sketched what she didn't have time to photograph: a charging herd of motorbikes. Dave's small-group tours in Vietnam and Botswana include optional writing classes along the way to teach travelers how to journal about their adventures. (For details, visit GlobejotterTours.com.)
It’s a cliché among travel writers to warn of Saigon’s never-ending flow of motorbikes, but they’re hard to ignore. They buzz by constantly on the streets, and sometimes the sidewalks, swerving around each other and any pedestrians who cross their paths. There ‘s no such thing as single-file. Lane dividers are merely suggestions. Many big intersections have no traffic lights or stop signs. People just slow down and weave through each other. Somehow, they figure it out.
If you visit Saigon, you'll find Dave's favorite park near the tourist hotels in District 1, across from the intersections of Pham Ngu Lao and De Tham Streets.
As a pedestrian, the way to cross this mess is to wade confidently into it. People will go around you. The key is maintaining a slow and steady pace as you step into the fray. If you start and stop, the motorcyclists don’t know what you’re doing, and you‘re likely to get splattered.
It was our first night in Saigon and we hadn’t quite mastered this skill yet, but Kattina and I were determined to get across to the other side. On our side of the street, backpacker bars were blasting songs like “Born in the USA” and “Sweet Home Alabama.” Life across the street looked more like the Saigon we had flown 20 hours to see.
Squid bike barbecue
It’s amazing how crossing a street can change things. Once we shuffled into traffic and emerged on the other side, we were the only foreigners in sight. Saigon’s epic motorbike traffic was creating a barrier between two cultures: Travelers on one side, local residents on the other. We had made it to the park, but now what?
“You want to just sit on that ledge for a while and hang out?” Kattina suggested. It was a better idea than anything I was coming up with, so we found a spot on a low, cement wall and took in the scene.
Mr. Ha and his mandolin are a regular fixture in the park. Say hello and
he'll play you a tune.
Most of the people in the park were teens or 20-somethings. If they weren’t playing their badminton / soccer hybrid, they were talking in clumps of five or six, or text messaging, or standing around and looking like they were waiting for someone. Suddenly, I spotted someone walking straight toward us.
I get nervous in foreign places when a stranger makes a beeline for me. Do they want to sell me something, rip me off, or both? It’s the sort of skepticism every traveler develops after a learning experience or two.
“Can I talk to you?” the young man asked.
Was this a rhetorical question? Did I have to answer?
“I’d like to practice my English,” he said, taking a seat beside me. I made a mental note of which pocket contained my wallet.
Sometimes, a healthy skepticism keeps travelers safe. Sometimes, it keeps us isolated. As Kattina and I chatted with this guy, I began to relax. He was in his early 20s, going to college, curious about the foreigners who had just stumbled into his hangout. It only took a minute to realize that practicing English really was his only motive. It only took one more minute before we were surrounded by a dozen other students. They took cross-legged seats on the pavement as Kattina and I found ourselves teaching an impromptu, late-night English lesson.
The wall where it all began: Dave and Kattina hang out with some of their Saigon pals.
That was our first night in Vietnam on what we thought would be a one-time, 10-day vacation there. What we didn’t know that evening was we’d return to the same park every night we were in Saigon, that we’d return to Saigon over and over, and that on that first night there, among the dozen or so students we chatted with, a couple would become some of our closest friends.
In subsequent visits to their country, they’d take me on late-night motorbike safaris to parts of the city most tourists never see. They’d translate and help me find sources for freelance travel articles I was writing. I’d help them get websites online for their own small businesses. Over time, we’d open up about our personal lives and turn to each other for advice, like close friends do. Different cultures, different mother tongues, and completely goofy traffic would become irrelevant. In breaking past the normal tourist routines, I’d fall so in love with Vietnam, I’d start guiding tours there, working together with one of my local friends.
I would also become so enamored with the country, I’d decide it was the ideal place to do something else I’d been pondering for a while. On my second trip, I’d arrive a few days before Kattina with an ulterior motive. I’d meet my friends in the park. I’d ask them for a special favor. I needed help tracking down a Vietnamese engagement ring.
Away from Saigon's cacaphony of motorcycles, Mui Ne is a tranquil spot on the South China Sea... and another stop on Dave's Vietnam tour. An evening bike ride offers cool breezes, brilliant sunsets, and a not-so-bad place to fumble with a ring.
The park was too crowded of a place to pop the question, but a week later, late at night on the shores of the South China Sea, Katina would say yes, and we’d share a moonlit kiss, which was very romantic until we realized we were swallowing the highly toxic mosquito repellant we had slathered ourselves with. That’s another story for another time, but we lived to tell the tale. Back in the park a few days later, our friends would congratulate us… and scowl when we said we weren’t having the wedding in Saigon.
This all happened because we crossed a street one night.
I’d realize over time though, the street was a metaphor, its traffic a convenient excuse to stay separated from a deeper plunge into Saigon. Wherever we travel, there are barriers that hinder us from reaching the real culture, and most of those barriers have nothing to do with an onslaught of motorbikes. Most of the real barriers are in our minds. Shyness, overactive safety concerns, or a simple reluctance to put away the guidebook and get a little lost, can keep us from finding places like the park that would change my life. Push past those barriers and you have a vastly richer travel experience.
A few hours south of Saigon, life is more serene in the Mekong Delta. Even where you must travel by boat, the motorbike is still the preferred means of transportation.
You don’t have to go to Vietnam to find places like our park. Wherever you travel, there are plenty of parks where tourists don’t tend to wander. And cafes, pubs, laundromats, and barbershops.
Museums and monuments, art and architecture are the sorts of things guidebooks tell you about. The friends you could meet you must find on your own, and to do so, you must cross a barrier thicker than crazy traffic. Push past your momentary awkwardness. Wander into neighborhood cafés or pubs where everyone’s going to stare at first. Get a haircut from a barber who doesn’t speak your language. Watch a game of whatever the local pastime is until someone invites you to try, and then, if you don’t know what you’re doing, boldly make a fool of yourself. The awkward first steps are usually short-lived. The rewards can last a lifetime.
Dave Fox is the founder of Globejotter Tours, a company that offers small-group journeys with optional journaling and travel writing classes along the way. His next Vietnam tour is October 17-30, 2010. He’s offering a last-minute $400 discount on the remaining spaces, plus an additional $100 discount for teachers and students. (And yes, he’ll take you to the park and introduce you to his friends!) For details, visit www.GlobejotterTours.com.
You can also can follow him on Twitter at @globejotter or become a fan of Globejotter Tours on Facebook.