Saigon in Vanity Fair

..."There are lots of reasons to come to Saigon, but walking the streets is not one of them. Not because of the heat, which can leave you dripping with sweat and dangerously dehydrated after a couple of blocks, nor because of the long rainy season, which can leave you soaking wet and sheltering in shop doorways and arcades for an hour or so each day. The heat and the rain are only inconveniences, and more than made up for by the potential rewards of drifting through the dynamic street life of this intensely physical city. Or at least they would be if that were all there was to it. But the very real possibility of being killed or maimed by motorbikes on streets where there appear to be no traffic laws or, if they exist, are rarely observed, tends to drain the pleasure from the early-morning exploration of the avenues and alleyways, or from the relaxed, post-prandial evening stroll around the Opera House. And even if you are not left broken and bleeding by the side of the road, the sheer terror of crossing the streets is so stressful that you end up in no condition to savor the sights of Saigon. Motorbikes make no concessions to pedestrians, cars none to motorbikes, and buses none to anything. There is no refuge to be had from sidewalks and crossings either, and they are often more perilous, offering, as they do, a false sense of security; sidewalks are viewed simply as third traffic lanes for the rush hour, crossings and one-way signs are merely decorative, and red lights are red capes to the charging Hondas. If there is any upside to this moronic inferno it’s that the universally appalling driving is mitigated by the natural aversion of most Asians to any kind of confrontation, rendering road rage not unknown but relatively rare, anger replaced by an eerie, zombie-like passivity. Where, you may ask, are the forces of law and order when this quotidian nightmare is going on? Well, for the most part they are, by all accounts, busy taking bribes. The police are like crocodiles lying in wait every day for an endless wildebeest migration. And the motorcyclists themselves are apparently happy to calculate their odds according to wildebeest actuarial charts. Assuming that you either have nerves of steel, or can find no convincing reason to live and are still determined to walk around the city, you are then confronted by the appropriation of the sidewalks by whoever gets there first. There is very little concept of personal space in Saigon. In many parts of the city you can barely walk 30 feet without being forced onto the street, thwarted by improvised sidewalk restaurants, whole families stretched out from doorway to curb, motorbikes parked legally and illegally, or just by groups of people who make no effort to let you pass. At first I would become very colonial about all this and huff and puff and wave at people with my flyswatter. But you have no choice but to accept it; it’s their country, and if they accept it without being offended, that’s just the way it is. I’m fairly sure I don’t have nerves of steel but nevertheless I continue to walk everywhere."...

Full reading site: http://www.vanityfair.com/culture/features/2008/11/saigon200811?currentPage=3