April 06, 2002
Noise, Noise, Noise
Noise, noise, noise, I can't stand the noise! The Vietnamese commuters lead a dangerous life. The Vietnam roadways are a virtual video game as bikers and cyclos compete with scooters, scooters like pesky flies swarm in clouds of pointy hats and blue smoke, cars and trucks fill the space between the scooters, and horn makers revel in the environment they created. To a westerner the horns cause squinting headaches, to the Vietnamese they mean nothing, even the screaming lorry horns that reduce my life span as they echo pasts in a deafen start and diminishing resonance. Negotiating traffic in Hanoi is one part skill, one part courage, and three parts blind faith. Today I've seen cyclos blindly cross intersections more crowded than the Kennedy Expressway at 7:00am, woman crossing roads carrying large baskets suspended like olympic barbells across their damaged backs, and Jeff crossing the streets like a bad go at Frogger... Splat! I have a theory. Given the American War was so tragic and so recent, I guess getting run down in the street isn't that big of deal. I guess it's all a matter of degree. Once you've been in the fire, hot is no longer hot. That said, Hanoi is a really noisy place. Yes, noisy. And, hot.