(street bike shop in Saigon. Reminds me of the early days of The Bike Cave. Ive been there brother, ive been there)

(old vespas, not ours)

You know your getting used to Vietnam when you don't clutch the seat of the motorbike you are sitting on anymore. Instead you lift your arms with abandon, sit comfortably on the seat and just take in the overstimulation and you are thank for that you are not navigating for once. You look around, with the wind in your hair, thank the nighttime for the absence of the sun's beating heat, smile at the family of four on a motorcycle half the size of the one you are on. You wonder what the quiet motorbike driver in front of you thinks of you - the 23 white male foreigner - and hope he has change for the 100,000 vietnamese dong in your pocket. You understand the lady you saw yesterday reading a book on her motorbike while waiting in rush hour traffic. The perplexity and fear of the worlds most insane traffic jam turns into just another night in Ho Chi Minh.

(myself and My at french designed central post office)

Upon arriving in this crazy, crazy, no... really, crazy city, the usual fear/excitement mix of the unknown was in full effect especially when meeting up with My, our couchsurfing friend that was helping us to adjust to HCMC. Within an hour after landing, Ricky and I were doing what we internally vowed to never do - renting motorbikes in the worst place to rent motorbikes. A Lonely Planet described it quite well "The quickest way to see the city, and the quickest way to the hospital". Why common sense didn't kick in when were in the taxi on the way to rent them? Was it the excitement? Was it the lack of sleep? I dont think any of these explanations fit - and I dont think any explanation will ever fit.

(thought your rush hour was bad?)

The traffic is absolute chaos. It makes Mexico City traffic look like a safe Disneyland. Its just stupid. Its millions of people, billions of motorcycles, a couple of cars, a lot of delivery trucks and just madness.

But it works.

Its a disaster but a well tuned orchestra at the same time - minus the director. It takes an instinct that we dont use in the States too often. The instinct of a fighter without hesitation. Accelerate, brake, accelerate, pedestrian, motorbikemotorbikemotorbikemotorbikemotorbike, roundabout, motorbike with 3 people going directly at you, swerve, outofplace Mercedes, cop - look other way, motorbike, speed bump, bridge, where is Ricky?, there he is, duck - there is a 9 foot pole jetting out of that bicycle, is this the right turn? accelerate, brake. (all in 5 seconds). Its really actually pretty fun. Sorry mom.

(temple outside of HCMC)

The days have been exhausting. Visiting temples (vietnamese religion is mix of buddism, confucianism, taoism = very interesting), eating local food, seeing American/Vietnam war relics (I don't really see the appeal - its a horrible thing on both sides, yet they are the biggest tourist attractions here), drinking dodgy juice with local ice in it, meeting tons of new friends and going to Oktoberfest. Yea, Oktoberfest in Vietnam. An awakening in globalization.

(post traditional meal, cost = $1)

I could type a good bit about Oktoberfest but its pretty blurry after a point and I want to save some stories for in person. Basically it was a whole 5 star hotel floor packed with German expats, vietnamese businessmen, and our entourage of couchsurfing friends from all over with all you can drink german beer and food. And dancing. And chanting vietnamese/german drinking chants on tables with the said vietnamese businessmen - at least I think we were singing chants in vietnamese, could of been russian, not sure. Anyways....

(other Seattle couchsurfers/now friends at oktoberfest with Ricky and I)

We will break our addiction to Saigon stimulation soon, pay our $6 a day motorbike rental fee, and head to Muy Ne, a quiet beach town 4 hours away. Otherwise we would probably get jobs teaching English and end up staying months here - we have met quite a few who fell into the trap - which wouldnt be that bad.

TP