a journal entry for class: street observations...

The bustling streets of Hanoi are a quagmire. The constant ebb and flow of motor-scooters maneuvering between vehicles, turning at leisure, and honking in the place of indicators is nausea to my western sensibilities. Yet, in observing an average Hanoi rush hour I quickly learned a few important aspects of Vietnamese culture.
Hanoi is hot. Hanoi is humid. Hanoi knows nothing of the weather patterns I daily face in Denver, Colorado. While the sun unceasingly beats down on my poor American head creating a humidity that feels like being naked in the heat with a plastic jump suit on, I longingly recall the dry cool heat in the elevated mile-high city. Why, I then ask myself, would the women of Vietnam, when outside, wear jackets or arm sleeves adding to the heat? Apparently this is a common and accepted practice, however much it vexes the western mind.
Another thing I noticed, shocking would be an understatement, is Vietnamese people who, rather than taking stock of their surroundings, charge ahead mid-traffic expecting the vehicles to dodge oncoming pedestrians. Uh, what? This is strange, especially to me who, from a very early age, was indoctrinated with the mantra, “look both ways before crossing the street.” I give the Vietnamese props though; it takes guts to cross the street in the face of four-hundred scooters bearing down at thirty miles per hour.
Taxis are fodder aplenty for watchful tourists. Rather than using blinkers, they weave in and out of scooters honking wildly (which is apparently an elaborate non-verbal communication technique used and known by most Southeast Asians). I assume this is their way of announcing the presence of an alpha vehicle to those brave, but lesser, scooter operators surrounding them, imagine chum to whales. Or maybe, it is just a turn signal. Either way, for a westerner, it’s disconcerting. Actually, what really boggles the mind is the willingness of Vietnamese mothers to take their little ones into this hotbed of traffic violations.
While more could be “teased-out” in regards to the culture shock—read "culture stress"—that a typical Hanoi rush hour provides, it is not too much to say that it also betrays a Vietnamese vibrant zest for life. The fluidity of the Capital’s streets speaks to a collective trust inherent in the Vietnamese social conscience. One can blindly pull out into the asphalt jungle in full confidence knowing that the “other” will slow down, and allow one’s entrance into the constant flow of scooters. One sees this not only in the street, but also in the “sidewalk culture” of Hanoi. Look up or down a given street and you will see people spilling out of shops, sitting in chairs, laying in the shade of advertisements, or mulling about in conversation. If you are lucky, you will see the youth of Hanoi, having spread a net from street corner to street pole, playing a game of badminton. Where in America, at least in my experience, the street is functional—a medium of transportation or a bed for the homeless—it becomes a destination in Vietnam, a place for social interactions.
As I am, and will continue to be, in awe over the dynamic relationship between Vietnamese motorist, pedestrian, and the road, I also look forward to comparing my roadside experience in Vietnam with rush hour in Phnom Penh.