Saigon Essentials: The Motorbike

In Saigon, the motorbike is king. Some estimates put the number of motorbikes in this city at close to 3.6 million; that's almost one motorbike for every second person. The two-wheeler is the primary mode of transport for most Vietnamese, and if you discount the inhalation of diesel fumes, risk of injuries, and the 30 deaths on the roads per day in Vietnam, the motorbike is definitely the best way to get around Saigon. Sure you could walk, cycle, take a taxi, take a xe-om, catch the bus…but all the aforesaid modes of transport are either too expensive, too slow, or too sweaty. And ultimately, they are also not nearly as fun as getting around on a motorbike.

Meet my trusty steed, Yellow Peril.

 

I admit, she is a hideous colour and has zero street-cred, but she’s a hardy little thing. Since acquisition, I’ve dropped her twice and rode her through flood waters countless times. She was also once thrown against a tree (she is incredibly light for a motorscooter). Despite the mistreatment heaped upon her, she has to this day remained as reliable and as zippy as ever. 

Being able the get around this city on a motorbike completely colours your experience of living in Saigon. As petrified as I was during my first weeks riding in Saigon traffic, it took only a short while before I became a complete convert and now I can’t imagine living here without one. 

There are drawbacks to the motorbike, of course. Yes, Saigon peak-hour is an ugly, nasty, horrible bitch. Yes, riding during a monsoonal downpour under a sodden poncho while copping mountainous sprays of black water from passing trucks and buses does not compare to the comfort of being chauffeured in a dry, air-conditioned taxi. Yes, my lungs are gradually being poisoned by carbon-monoxide and other delightful toxins as I wait at the traffic lights behind thirty-odd belching exhaust pipes. And, yes, the risk of having manslaughter charges laid against me in a foreign (communist) country is always lurking in the back of my mind. 

But a motorbike just makes life so much easier. 

With a motorbike, you quickly decipher the labyrinth of one-way Saigon streets, and learn where everything is in relation to everything else. You can get home late at night without resorting to the services of xe-om who may or may not rob/rape/kidnap/murder you. You get to wear a carbon–filter mask during your daily commute to work, which aside from slowing the disintegration of your lungs has the added benefit of making you feel like a ninja. 

And, when you aren’t thinking about carbon-monoxide as you sit trapped in peak-hour traffic, there is something - akin to a sense of camaraderie, perhaps - about glancing over to the fifty or so other motorcyclists next to you. They are so close. Less than an arms length away. So close you could ask for directions or pull faces at their toddler (who is more often than not perched precariously on a highchair wedged between the handle bars and seat of the motorcycle, with a mosquito net draped over their head). So close, you can nod hello and check out the content of their shopping basket. Without a windscreen and the metal carriage of an automobile, the boredom and anonymity of a traffic-jam (the kind of traffic-jam we are used to in a developed country) is taken away. There is a vague sense of solidarity, which makes you feel (just a tiny bit) like you're apart of this city. 

Or, to put it in much simpler terms, it makes you feel like you are part of a million-strong bad-ass bikie gang.

My bikie gang. No one can stop us.

To round off this post and drive home the point about how fun (and integral) motorbikes are in Vietnam, here is an excellent collection of photographs by Dutch photographer Hans Kemp. My favourite is the hula-hoop one, closely followed by the motorbike carrying five fully-grown people.