Motorbike Lost

I don't speak a a lick of Vietnamese beyond "thank you" and  "cảm ơn" was all I could say as I narrowly missed hitting a wall and continued on toward a parked car. I wasn't even going that fast. just fast enough to forget everything I had just learned about how to work the brakes on the tiny motorbike I was riding - one of more than 45 million in Vietnam.

I was practicing on  a side street in front of my hotel. I gripped the handlebars knowing they were the key to my freedom. Freedom to roam the city at my leisure without worrying about how much it will cost or how long I'll be gone. Freedom to get lost and discover for myself the things that people living in Dalat take for granted...a random garden blooming, a street vendor selling wares I haven't yet encountered, a conversation with someone who doesn't interact with tourists on a daily basis.

A motorbike would afford me all of those things. And my inability to drive one, deprived me.

No matter my deep almost desperate desire to go wandering off beyond where my feet can take me (trust me, they have taken me many kilometers daily) I'm not reckless. So even without the rental guy murmuring under his breath what even my non-Vietnamese speaking self could hear was utter terror on behalf of, if not of me, his bike I wasn't going out into the streets of Dalat on my own.

Maybe in a quiet town. Maybe with fewer things to run into I might practice. But Dalat, while better than Ho Chi Minh, is still congested with motorbikes and people all vying for space and rushing to wherever they are going. Rather than yield their direction or pace, drivers simply honk lightly, if repeatedly, as if to make their way by sonar.

As a pedestrian I have made peace with the general protocol. You can't wait for a light, even at a crosswalk, so you just walk out at the first sign of space. Don't run. Some people put a hand up and many people don't even look up, they just step out into the street and walk slowly to the other side. You want to see faith in action, cross the street in Vietnam.

Adding myself to that organized chaos would be dangerous. So I handed back my helmet and left my freedom parked in front of my hotel.