They don't celebrate Christmas here...
I think I’ve just reduced my life expectancy by a few years. What did I do? I went out on Christmas Eve in Hanoi. And on top of that I didn’t have to go out because I’d had an invitation to dinner, but as it was in Vietnamese I didn’t understand it so I didn’t go and now I have to think of how I’m going to apologise to a Vietnamese who doesn’t speak English without making things even worse.
My first inkling of reduced life expectancy came when I cycled out of the village and turned onto one of the main streets in the one way system. The temperature rose noticeably, as did the fumes. There were more motorbikes at 5pm on a Sunday than during a weekday rush hour. I weaved through the traffic and made my way to the old quarter to the pub where we were meeting and then blissfully forgot about the traffic as we sank a few drinks, debated life the universe and everything and tried to get a consensus about where to eat. When we took to the streets again we walked through a closing market, so things seemed normal and at the restaurant we ate upstairs - again away from traffic. It was at this point that the phone call came advising me that I should have been somewhere else. Too late to recover that situation!
After the meal I was the last one to leave and as I stepped out into the street I couldn’t move. It was one of the narrow streets in the old quarter and it was gridlocked. The number of people walking on the road equalled the number on motorbikes trying to drive on it and the situation was compounded by a large dustbin lorry sitting in the middle collecting the day’s refuse. For a moment I lost my way and as I wandered through the streets on the way back to the pub I was surrounded by Vietnamese wearing Santa Claus hats and carrying balloons, the night market was lit up like…. like a Christmas tree. I got back to the pub and enjoyed a final drink before climbing on the bike and heading home.
It was now 9.30pm and the first few metres of the journey were normal. The LED lights my employer provided after my last cycle accident flashed brightly as I headed towards the lake. The first indication that this would not be a normal journey came at the first crossroads where I had to step down and shuffle to get through the congestion. As I turned onto the lake side everything stopped.
It was like a football stadium turning out. The road is maybe 25 metres wide at this point and it was completely stationary. Sellers of balloons and other tat were walking amongst the motorbikes and the fumes were horrendous – enough to make my stomach turn. The odd car was marooned in the middle of the mass. No one was sounding their horn, everyone realised it was pointless.
My lights were now one of the attractions, presumably most of those smiling and pointing thought they were another set of Christmas decorations. The police had closed off the side roads leading away from the lake so there was no escape. I shuffled along with the rest making new friends as I went.
Eventually the log jam eased and I could get back in the saddle cycling slowly round pedestrians and vendors. Two cross roads further on another jam – each time the lights changed a few more motorbikes drove into the mass stuck in the middle of the junction. I took evasive action and went far to the left, into the clear side of the one way street which was going head to head with the one way street I was on. Round the edge of the mass and then up on the pavement, right and left and back onto my original route (mountain bikes are good at that sort of thing) the road was then fairly clear. Even in the village there were people wandering along with red felt hats with Merry Christmas on (Always in English?) and the sounds of singing a high spirits were far louder than on any Sunday night I’ve experienced here so far. A journey which normally takes 15 minutes took an hour.
So, they don’t celebrate Christmas here, however they do celebrate Western New Year and they go bananas at Tet – Vietnamese New Year. I can’t wait for next week!
My first inkling of reduced life expectancy came when I cycled out of the village and turned onto one of the main streets in the one way system. The temperature rose noticeably, as did the fumes. There were more motorbikes at 5pm on a Sunday than during a weekday rush hour. I weaved through the traffic and made my way to the old quarter to the pub where we were meeting and then blissfully forgot about the traffic as we sank a few drinks, debated life the universe and everything and tried to get a consensus about where to eat. When we took to the streets again we walked through a closing market, so things seemed normal and at the restaurant we ate upstairs - again away from traffic. It was at this point that the phone call came advising me that I should have been somewhere else. Too late to recover that situation!
After the meal I was the last one to leave and as I stepped out into the street I couldn’t move. It was one of the narrow streets in the old quarter and it was gridlocked. The number of people walking on the road equalled the number on motorbikes trying to drive on it and the situation was compounded by a large dustbin lorry sitting in the middle collecting the day’s refuse. For a moment I lost my way and as I wandered through the streets on the way back to the pub I was surrounded by Vietnamese wearing Santa Claus hats and carrying balloons, the night market was lit up like…. like a Christmas tree. I got back to the pub and enjoyed a final drink before climbing on the bike and heading home.
It was now 9.30pm and the first few metres of the journey were normal. The LED lights my employer provided after my last cycle accident flashed brightly as I headed towards the lake. The first indication that this would not be a normal journey came at the first crossroads where I had to step down and shuffle to get through the congestion. As I turned onto the lake side everything stopped.
It was like a football stadium turning out. The road is maybe 25 metres wide at this point and it was completely stationary. Sellers of balloons and other tat were walking amongst the motorbikes and the fumes were horrendous – enough to make my stomach turn. The odd car was marooned in the middle of the mass. No one was sounding their horn, everyone realised it was pointless.
My lights were now one of the attractions, presumably most of those smiling and pointing thought they were another set of Christmas decorations. The police had closed off the side roads leading away from the lake so there was no escape. I shuffled along with the rest making new friends as I went.
Eventually the log jam eased and I could get back in the saddle cycling slowly round pedestrians and vendors. Two cross roads further on another jam – each time the lights changed a few more motorbikes drove into the mass stuck in the middle of the junction. I took evasive action and went far to the left, into the clear side of the one way street which was going head to head with the one way street I was on. Round the edge of the mass and then up on the pavement, right and left and back onto my original route (mountain bikes are good at that sort of thing) the road was then fairly clear. Even in the village there were people wandering along with red felt hats with Merry Christmas on (Always in English?) and the sounds of singing a high spirits were far louder than on any Sunday night I’ve experienced here so far. A journey which normally takes 15 minutes took an hour.
So, they don’t celebrate Christmas here, however they do celebrate Western New Year and they go bananas at Tet – Vietnamese New Year. I can’t wait for next week!
posted by Marvin.. at Sunday, December 24, 2006
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