There is no contest in what I consider to be the greatest accomplishment of my time here in Saigon.  Driving a motorbike, day after day in the traffic here.

I've never seen traffic jams like this

When we arrived here we were totally amazed by the chaos embodied by the traffic.  Motorbikes, cars, and buses swirled around each other and over every part of the city that was remotely level.  To live here is to constant keep your vision moving, looking for the next screaming motorbike, bus or wall of traffic and figuring out if it is going to require swift reactive action on your part.  The flow never stops, so even crossing the street is an exercise in slowly putting one foot in front of the other and trying to make eye contact with whatever insane driver is on a trajectory mostly likely to intersect with your own.  This absolute madness was something we boldly boasted about walking through, but never imagined we would take part in.

We seem to do a good job of challenging ourselves, and as such it wasn’t long before we found ourselves learning how to ride a bike out in the industrial district under the brave guidance of one of our Vietnamese friends.  After that we promptly rented bikes and built up a tolerance for traffic levels.

As much as the traffic here is pure anarchy and lacks compete regard for laws or common sense, there is a sort of system.  A system I think of as blockers and flows.  Flows move in a single direction, along streets, down sidewalks, and are more or less as safe as it gets.  You bounce along through them and try and keep a bubble from the other crazy drivers.  The challenge comes when you need to switch to a flow moving a different direction or when two flows intersect.  At this point its just a big fucked up game of chicken with no right of way between one and a few hundred drivers competing for the same slice of road you need.  This is where the blockers come in.  No matter how many lanes of fast moving traffic there are, there is always someone with less to lose than the rest that inches out.  As they block the oncoming flow everyone else falls into the traffic shadow they create until the balance tips and your flow takes the road. Simple right?

Needless to say no matter what happens to me, for the rest of my life I will never forget the experience of driving in Saigon.  Never has been getting to where you’re going been so insane or exciting.

Crossing the flow

For the most part, we’ve finally left Pham Ngu Lao – physically, mentally, and emotionally.  No more daily dodging of street vendors, no more outrageous prices, no more incessant loud noises, no more frenetic buzz.  Our new alleyway feels a little slower, a little more comfortable, a little more permanent.

We’re not quite residents of Saigon but I feel less like a traveler and more like a guest of the city.  We’re slowly settling into a new pattern of activity.

Every morning, we treat ourselves to breakfast at the nearby donut cart.

A cart full of freshly fried donuts

Sweet, delicious, deep-fried before our very eyes and only a 60 second walk from our guest house.

Also, there’s ice-cream…for 3,000 dong.  That’s 19 cents per cone.  So much for improving on our Seattle diet.

On a nearby street, a bustling food market comes to life every morning, with a vast selection of fruits (many of which I’ve never seen), vegetables (most of which I’ve never seen), and meats (most of which I probably wouldn’t eat).  The fish are either laying out drying or still in the process of dying.  I recently picked up 2lbs  of sweet apples for about 60 cents.

A bustling food market

Of course, our neighborhood has its precious quirks.

First, this market is also permeated with unpleasant, pungent smells.  Drying fish and durian fruit are an awful combination, but we can also blame the garbage heaps sitting in the Saigon sun.

Garbage, rotting in the street

Second, there happens to be a middle school about 20 yards away, so even though we usually enjoy some peace and quiet, around 7am and 12pm, the street teems with screaming children.

Children screaming in English can be mildly amusing because you can understand what they’re saying – you can soothe annoyance with a little curiosity.  Children screaming in Vietnamese is just a cacophony of sound…quite an effective alarm clock.

Finally, every now and then, the water system will flood, creating little pools and lakes of water that will no longer fit in the sewer.

Sewer water floods the streets

The owner of our guest house said it was “high tide.”

We’re just happy to get out of the cauldron of Pham Ngu Lao, and it seems like this new place will be home until we leave Vietnam.