Xe Om

I do up the clip on my helmet and swing my leg over the back seat of the bike. We slowly creep our way through the compact, busy alley. Carefully squeezing between produce vendors, wandering kids, other motorbikes and people perched on stools gobbling up some food-the steam of their noodles filling my nostrils. We burst forth on the road, other bikes head straight at us and we weave our way over to the right side of the road. The light turns red and we stop, along with an entire mob of other bikes. I can feel the heat from their engines on my leg. Their front tires are mere millimeters from contact with my thigh. Thuy’s flip-flop wearing feet balance us, another tire pulls to a stop just before crushing her pedicured toes. Before the light returns to green, engines rev and the swarm of bikes begins to creep froward into the intersection. The intersection itself resembling a chaotic ballet in which all of the dancers have forgotten their part. Despite the illusion of ‘right of way’, there clearly is no such things as everyone (from all directions) picks a path and careens around anyone daring enough to get in their way. The near hits making your knuckles white as they death grip onto the back of the bike.

“Doesn’t driving in this make you nervous?”

“Never. This is normal, ” Thuy confidently responds.

We pick up speed and the imperfect dance continues. A weave to the left, a sudden halt of the breaks, veer more left, right again. A toddler balanced between her father’s legs on the next bike grinning as the wind whips her hair. Two school friends chat as their bikes cruise alongside each other.

We come to our first stop. And behind me 10 more girls in their beautiful blue and white ao dais pull up, each safely delivering their foreign cargo, all of us exhilarated from our first experience in the midst of Saigon’s hectic army of xe oms.

In a city of 10 million people there are over 7 million xe oms. Why so many? Because cars are taxed at a rate of at least 200%. If you own a luxury vehicle the tax is 300%. So a person in Saigon rich enough to own a BMW is really rich. Thus, there are very few cars. And with no real public transport system the best and only way to get around is by xe om-motorbike.

Over the course of 4.5 hours we zoomed across 6 of the city’s 24 districts. From the poorest to the wealthiest. The busy to the deserted. We saw it all, from the back seat of our bikes. Each of us with our own trusted tour guide explaining the merits of the area as she maneuvered our way through the swarms. Along the way we stopped to eat. We sampled some of the best foods that Vietnam has to offer. As we settled on plastic stools crowded in a narrow alley way, mountains of food were put in front of us. Some of the most delicious and unusual things I ever could have imagined.

As the night wore on we each grew more comfortable, with both the biking and the food. By the end of the night our fingers released their death grip and instead relaxed in our lap like the locals… no longer afraid of being thrown off during a sudden acceleration. And our stomachs decided they could handle the more obscure fare Vietnam has to offer. I gobbled up innumerable barbequed frogs and others were brave enough to sample duck poetesses-still in the shell.

If you ever find yourself in the city of xe oms I highly encourage you to spend a night being guided around on the back of one of these things. The food, company, sights and exhilarating driving made this one of the best tours I have ever experienced! (Here’s the link for ya: XO Tours)

Women of Northern Vietnam

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Sapa and its many surrounding villages are jam-packed with all sorts of minorities. It was amazing to see all of these women garbed in their full traditional outfits as they chatted you up and hassled you to buy anything and everything they were carrying. Most visitors to Sapa find themselves super annoyed by the woman and their constant following you around. I didn’t mind it so much; I love any opportunity to talk to someone about their life and culture. To the point where as I left my hotel one night to find a warm restaurant to settle down in, an old Black Hmong woman grabbed me by the arm and started skipping. She was excited because she was going to find me a Hmong husband. For some reason I was very intrigued with what scheme she had up her sleeve, so I went with her. (When telling this story to my friends I got the response, “You went with the crazy lady!?” Yes, I went with the crazy lady.) After hopping, skipping, dancing and singing our way through town, we arrived (15 minutes later) at  a circle of men in the street. They parted ways to let me see what was in the center, that’s when I noticed the two 14 year old boys that were dancing and playing their Hmong flutes. Yes, this is who she was trying to marry me off to. I laughed at her and she doubled over giggling as we skipped and danced our way back into town, still arm in arm.

I tried to keep track of all of the women I talked to, what village they were from, which tribal minority they belonged to… It was tough. And I know it seems a bit like racial profiling to keep track of all of these women based on what they’re wearing and how they look, but really that’s the only way to keep straight where everyone is from and what their culture is. So, I’m sorry, but it was the only way.

Trip Synopsis

Just a little teaser of what I got up to on my past 4 weeks of travel.  Click on the pins to read about what I did at each locale. Many more ‘Holiday Highlight’ posts to come soon!

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