Vietnam

HOW TO CROSS THE STREET INHO CHI MINH CITY AND OTHER TALESFROM THE ALUMNI COLLEGE ABROADText and photographs by Jeffrey LottYou must understand that the traffic never stops, even atintersections with traffic lights. And there are very few such intersectionsin this city of 6 million people and 4 million motorbikes. Thekhaki-uniformed policeman standing on the sidewalk seems to haveno function beyond placidly watching the honking hordes buzz by.His white baton—police in Vietnam are largely unarmed—hangs onhis belt, more a symbol of office than a tool of the trade. He has awhistle too, but who could hear a whistle in this din? No singlehuman could direct this traffic.You want to get to the other side of Le Duan Street. Were you towait for a lull, you would be standing here tomorrow—or a weekfrom tomorrow. Yet, if you don’t cross the street, you will be foreverconfined to the single block where you stepped off your tour bus. Soyou watch for a tiny opening in the tide—and a lull in your fear—and step resolutely off the curb.Before you came to Ho Chi Minh City (formerly Saigon), an earliervisitor advised you to cross at a steady pace, neither stopping norrunning, allowing the river of two-wheelers—some of which carryfamilies of four or a driver and three live pigs (I’m not kidding)—torush around you. The idea seems preposterous, but, walking straightand stealing only furtive glances at the onrush, you wade into thecurrent. Miraculously, it flows around you—as if you are a permanentobstacle, a rock or an island, that has always been anchored inthe flow—except that you’re a moving island in a swift current.Clearly, there’s a Zen in this. The intelligent, beeping river sensesyour speed and trajectory. It permits you to cross only because you’vegiven yourself up to it: You’ve absorbed the chi of the street. And, asyou step up on the opposite sidewalk, knees a littlerubbery, you know in some place inside you thatthe street has loved you.june 2006 : 15