Or, If This Is Anarchy Then I Broadly Approve
Hanoi arrived in the way that Asia usually does. Stepping through the airport doors and it's instant Asia! The noise, the dust, the busy frenetic activity of taxi drivers, bus drivers, fellow passengers, various scooter riders racing everywhere and the uniformed airport staff going about their work day activities. There's a definite smell to Asia, a delightful earthy musk, a welcoming warmth with a hint of the exotic all wrapped up in a hot, humid, dense, fuggy comfort blanket. Hanoi did not disappoint.
The taxi driver continued the acclimatisation process. The journey from Hanoi airport to the old quarter of Hanoi passed uneventfully. Uneventfully for Asia that is. Should a London taxi driver swerve across several lanes of traffic on a frequent basis, sound his horn at every opportunity, answer his mobile phone whilst driving, then answer his other mobile phone when still talking on the first and you'd be dining off the stories for months to come. However this is Asia and it appears that every other driver on the same piece of road is doing pretty much the same thing. And then there's the scooter riders. Mopeds, scooters, small capacity motorcycles of every description are everywhere. Zooming in and around us, swarming and darting like insects around this slow ponderous water buffalo of a taxi.
After my first taxi ride in Asia many years ago, it came as a great surprise that we arrived at out destination intact. In fact it came as a great surprise that anyone arrived at their destinations intact. But of course we did, as indeed did everyone else, the first five minutes or so in the taxi provide an acclimatisation period, the rest of the journey is simply accepted that this is the way it is.
Breakfast the first morning provided an opportunity for further study. The hotel's dining room was on the second floor and our breakfast table was by a window. Hang Bong street, the one on which our hotel stood, is a main Hanoi thoroughfare, it's narrow with tall buildings on both sides. Several roads cross it at right angles and also carry similar levels of traffic. Bikes, by that I mean small capacity motorcycles, scooters and mopeds are everywhere. They flow like blood cells through an artery, filling every available space with a dizzying blur of motion. Except of course blood cells flow in only one direction, here they flow both ways. There appeared to be a broad consensus that riding on the right was the preferred option, but it was by no means universal.
The road was not divided half and half as one might expect; half for bikes going in one direction and the other 50% for traffic going in the other. Here, should there be a greater volume of bikes going in one direction over the other, then that lane would automatically grows, occupying a correspondingly larger percentage of the road. Sensible? Certainly. But how this was achieved unbidden, like a massive flock of starlings wheeling and darting in flight remains a mystery.
Across Hang Bong, many other roads crossing at right angles. Theses roads carried similar volumes of traffic to Hang Bong yet they merged like tributaries flowing into a river; neither stream of traffic yielding to allow the other progress. They didn't need to, they melded together like streams of molten metal flowing to fill a mould. The traffic may have been mostly bikes, but that was certainly not a guarantee of uniformity. Some were solo riders, some carried a pillion. Several carried more than one pillion, up to a maximum of three. It's not just people that get transported by these marvellous little bikes, but goods also. Tiny motorcycles carting improbable loads stacked well above the rider and adding at least a metre and a half to the overall width of the bike, teetered and staggered through this corpuscular flow as the height and weight of their loads created instabilities as the bike lurched over the pot holed road.
Some of the bikes carried goods too large to be strapped directly to the bike; ladders, chairs, a coffee table and on one occasion a large oil painting. Here the rider held the item in his left hand leaving the other hand in solo control of the motorcycle.
A westerner, upon seeing this scene for the first time would recoil in horror at the scant regard for the rules of the road. His second thought might be how can anyone ride these roads or worse be so irresponsible to take their children onto these roads! Even if they were securely strapped into their CE approved car seat and sitting in a 4×4, surely that would be tantamount to child abuse? And yet here are mothers taking their children on the back of these bikes. Not just the back, but standing on the foot plates of scooters or squeezed in-between two adults or both. Let's put away our thoughts of disbelief, utter disbelief, that any, let alone the vast majority would survive this anarchy and wonder why they do.
Vietnamese riders appear to operate without any recourse to the rules of the road. They will occasionally stop at red lights if the situation utterly demands it, but that's about the only rule they do follow. Priority to traffic from the left (they drive on the right remember) doesn't apply. Pedestrians giving way to motorist is unheard of and just having one side for overtaking would be considered absurd.
In the UK we have rules! Rules to keep us safe from each other. Rules that are strictly applied and rigidly followed. Woe betide anyone who transgresses! Even inadvertently. Any motorist who even just witnesses, let alone become mildly inconvenienced, by another motorist is felt fully justified in unleashing a whole salvo of insults, from angrily honking the horn to flashing the lights or even unleashing tirade of verbal abuse!
The riders of Hanoi without the rules of the road have to make do with common sense, good humour and civility. If a fellow rider wobbles a little in front of you because he's carrying a coffee table in his left hand, then give him space to do so. It is consider that he has a much right to be doing what he's doing as you have to be on your journey. This level of non aggressive riding makes the basic and fairly obvious assumption, given a moments thought, that nobody would be carting a coffee table on a Honda 50 unless they have a very good reason for doing so. The mother riding with three small children on her bike knows that the safety of her children is in her hands she also knows that it's in the hands of her fellow riders. A fact fully known and accepted by all her fellow riders. She is not derided for taking her children on a bike, but afforded the opportunity to do it safely. If this is anarchy, then I broadly approve.