Wherever you look in Saigon, there will be motorcycles. Hundreds and hundreds of them. It is a very efficient mode of transportation and, what's more important here, is affordable to most. And most take advantage of it: from the swarthy labourer on his way to the construction site, to the office worker, the fashion-plate secretary, or a little old lady: everybody rides. On the road, there appear to be very few conflicts between motorcyclists, but things are different for the minority users of the road. Cars must constantly honk to get them out of the way which, eventually, most agree to do. Pedestrians, lacking the heft and kinetic energy of cars, must be more circumspect. Generally speaking, a moving pedestrian will split the flow of motorcycles like a rock in a stream and everything is fine, as long as the rock keeps moving, ever so slowly. You really have to believe this will happen, so every street crossing requires not so much a leap as a tentative mosey of fate.
Once in a while, there will be an issue when a stubborn rider will insist on crossing in front of you, not behind, as if doing so would constitute some kind of defeat.I had one going as far as driving the wrong way by the left-hand curb to "win" this contest. He was pretty pissed too.
Given that motorcycles are most people's only transportation, they have come up with very ingenious ways of utilizing them to the fullest. First of all, a motorcycle can easy carry a family of four: from front to back: toddler, papa driver, child, mama. Next, freight need not be a problem. We have seen doors, 20 ft lengths of pipe, large mirrors and other improbable things being transported. Automatic bikes help make all this possible, as well as chatting on their phone, of course.
Once you reckon you have it all figured out, they come at you the wrong way!!! It seems that if a journey is less than, say, a hundred yards or so, on a street or a roundabout, direction is optional: with or without the traffic, as long as they stick close to the curb, where there will be maximal bewilderment for the pedestrians.
The Economics of Mass Transportation
But I digress. You are probably worried that the title of this section is wrong, or worse, that I will not be talking about the economics of mass transportation. Let me disabuse you forthwith.
The train from Saigon to Phan Rang takes 6 hours and costs about $20. For that, you get a seat that was last upholstered in the 1950's, although you'll be happy to know that the seat of the person in front of you reclines almost to the horizontal. The toilets are a hole in the ground, and were never cleaned since installed by the French in the 1930s. You can buy cold stir-fried chicken and rice, or warm beer if you so desire. We had brought fresh sandwiches from the bakery and a bottle of wine, so we were well ahead of the game there, at any rate.
The cab ride from the train station to the resort was $10 (we probably could have taken two local buses and walked for 30 cents, but that was never in the cards, even if we could figure out how). After resting on the beach for a few days, we were off to Da Lat, an exquisite mountain resort built by the French a century ago or so.
We now come to the nub, where your patience is finally rewarded. In order to get from Phan Rang to Da Lat, they want $6.50. This will get you picked up at your hotel, taken downtown to the bus station (a $10 value in a cab) and put onto a bus for a 3-1/2 hour drive to Da Lat. Can't beat it, right?
Well, first they pick you up early, because they have many pick-ups to do, and you get to the bus "station" half an hour early. Not so bad, except the bus station is a cement garage with a corrugated iron roof and a few, already occupied, benches against the wall. The toilets are, wait for it... a hole in the ground! It seems that the hotel staff, in their zeal to save you nickels, have booked you with the local discount bus line. At least there is a fan to keep you not so hot. You go buy a 1.5 l bottle of water next door and get charged the foreigner price (50% mark-up minimum - an extra quarter).
Eventually, half an hour late (so you've been standing there for an hour), the bus arrives. It looks awfully small, but maybe some of the people waiting are here to say goodbye to friends or family. You supervise the loading of your luggage onto the bus, as does everyone else, and once the hold is full, luggage still remains. No problem, it goes on with the passengers. Of course you yourself still have your backpack with you as it contains water, snacks, glasses, laptop, reading materials and so on.
The good news is you have been assigned the lanky-foreigner seats: overlooking the alighting platform next to the side door. You have leg room galore. Of course your backpack is still on your lap, at least until boarding is over. You can't believe how many people are on the bus: they have those little pop-up seats all over the place and soon enough, every square inch is occupied by passengers and luggage. Vietnamese people are very limber, so they don't mind having zero leg room and seem to be able to sit in any position whatever. You set your backpack at your feet and lie back for the ride.
The first few miles are uneventful: the driver stops by his residence and his daughter brings out his lunch; another stop sees a package delivered to a roadside house; another stop is to pick up an extra passenger... Wait a minute, where will he sit? As it turns out, there is another one of these little pop-up seats, that happens to pop up right where your back pack is. Back on the lap it goes, until you manage to wedge it on the floor in the aisle, which can't be more than a foot wide. At least the new passenger doesn't have any luggage. A half hour later, there is another stop, and on comes a little boy. This is starting to look like the clown car reel played backwards. Luckily, there is room next to the driver, right by the gearshift, for the boy to sit. After a while, the first stowaway is decanted from the bus and you can put you backpack back at your feet.
Soon afterwards, there is a rest stop. All you need to do is to unwind the kinks and use the bathroom, which is (drum roll...) a hole in the ground! After the backward clown car routine, you are ready to go until... The driver is engaged in animated conversation with an older lady in a floppy yellow hat and red pajamas who seems to be desirous of transportation. While they're negotiating, you reluctantly wedge your back pack back into the aisle but, surprise, she will not use the pop up seat. First, she loads three humongous wicker bags full of some sort of green crop. Then a 50lb sack of potatoes, which goes on your feet. Then a bag of bread, then two or three other bags. Oh!, you think, she's just sending the load to someone. Wrong! She climbs on and sits on the crops, her head resting on your knee, her hand around your traveling companion's knee, and a foot hanging out the door, which cannot be closed anymore. And off we go.
In Da Lat, the bus turns into a small alley, with absolutely nothing on it except the back of buildings and construction site. That is the end of the road as the whole thing replays itself backwards. You grab your luggage, walk to the end of the alley, and try to flag a cab for the $3 ride to your hotel. The driver doesn't help with the luggage and doesn't have the right change. Another nickel lost.