A haphazard chronicle of my inevitable misadventures during a year in Vietnam and points east.

p.s. I'll be pitifully grateful if you send me email during my exile: TravelerKaty@hotmail.com

October 2002 November 2002 December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 February 2006 March 2006 May 2006

 
Getting a reliable Honda om (or "xe om") driver can be a tricky proposition. Around your own home, you get to know the regular drivers and can figure out who is trustworthy or who speaks English sufficiently well to minimize serious communication breakdowns. Plus, since they see you every day, it is truly in their interest to avoid flaky or unscrupulous behavior, since they live on repeat business.

When you select a xe om driver at random it's pretty much a crap shoot. Mary Lu and I went to a delicious duck soup dinner on Tuesday, and upon our departure, selected a xe om driver, the only one outside the restaurant. Mary Lu explained our destination to him and he ran to the corner to recruit another driver for me. Foolishly assuming we were all on the same page destination-wise, we all set off.

Turns out there was confusion all around, but that was the least of my problems. Just past the Notre Dame Cathedral (the French built like crazy here), with Mary Lu half a block ahead, my driver stopped at the side of the road and started motioning toward my left foot and jabbering a mile a minute. Naturally, I had absolutely no idea what he was getting at or what was expected of me -- the language gap was as wide as the Pacific. He knew "motorbike" in English, and I know "thank you" in Vietnamese. Not a good basis for communication, really.

So I got off the bike and stood on the sidewalk while my driver continued to look at the wheel, poke around, and point back toward the cathedral while trying to communicate some mysterious message to me.

Since I generally lack patience and know my way around pretty well by now, I finally just waved at him and told him I was walking (my other very useful Vietnamese phrase, used daily to fend off cyclo and xe om drivers trying to solicit my business). I set off at a rapid pace, knowing that Mary Lu had to be a bit alarmed about what had happened to me.

After a couple blocks of brisk walking, who should roll up but my erstwhile driver, motioning for me to get back on. So I did -- I mean, what the heck? With any luck it would get me to Mary Lu's a few minutes sooner.

Unfortunately, there was a serious lack of luck on that accursed ride. First, despite my frantic calls and flailing arm movements, my driver immediately pulled a u-turn and wove his way through the oncoming traffic, going the wrong way on a one-way street in the opposite direction from my destination. I couldn't quite figure this out. I mean, he had to have seen which direction I was walking. Did he think I was that confused about where I lived?

After I got him back on the right track, he continued to drive on the wrong side of the street for some inexplicable reason, even though we were now on a two-way street. After a few blocks of perilous weaving, he pulled over and stopped entirely, thus answering one of the evening's mysteries: he needed air in his tires. By that time I had had just about enough of this drive in general and this driver in particular, so I got off and walked the remaining four blocks.

All in all, I made it safe and sound and learned that it's really nice to have a xe om driver who speaks some English. Either that or I really need to get moving on those Vietnamese lessons.

© 2002 Katy Warren
posted by Katy at 9:40 PM