The Old Crone’s Guide to Vietnam: Part II – Crossing the Road With Dignity and Slight Terror

Dearest reader,

If thou hast ever fancied playing a real-life game of Frogger—only with more mopeds and slightly fewer lives—then welcome to the fine art of road-crossing in Vietnam.

Let it be known: here, zebra crossings are but decorative suggestions, and traffic lights, though present, are occasionally treated with the same reverence one gives to horoscopes or weather forecasts—interesting, but optional.

Fear not, for I, the Old Crone, have mastered this noble ritual, and shall now impart the sacred steps unto thee.

Step 1: Assume the Stance of the Unbothered Water Buffalo: Before crossing, take a deep breath. Do not, under any circumstance, hesitate once thy feet grace the tarmac—hesitation is the scent that excites the scooters. Walk slowly and deliberately, like a duchess inspecting her garden. Extend the hand nearest the oncoming tide downward at a gentle 60-degree angle, palm slightly facing traffic. This, dear reader, is the universally recognized Vietnamese hand signal for: “I am coming, and thou shalt deal with it.”

Step 2: Trust in the Flow, Like a Rock in a River: The traffic shall part around you as if you were Moses or a particularly immovable banyan tree. Cars, mopeds, electric scooters—all shall weave around your noble personage with astonishing precision. Do not flinch. Do not dart. And above all, do not attempt to speed up. You are not outrunning them; they are flowing around you.

Step 3: Say a Little Prayer, or Perhaps Just Mutter Something Heroic: A whispered “Well, here goes,” or “I regret nothing” is entirely appropriate. If thou art inclined toward melodrama, a clutch of the chest and a backward glance at life’s pleasures also suffice.

Bonus Tip: When Summoning Thy Trusty Steed (a.k.a. Taxi App): If thou art making use of Grab, Be, or Xanh, always verify the number plate before hopping aboard. This land is full of noble steeds, and mounting the wrong one may lead to confusion, or worse—a long awkward ride to someone else’s dental appointment.

Should You Feel Adventurous: Try Public Transport (But Do Wear Something Breathable): For those of heartier constitution, Vietnam’s buses are astonishingly cheap and increasingly modern. Air-conditioned chariots of the common folk, they cost but pennies and can ferry thee across great distances. Though I must admit, this Crone prefers her two-wheeled chariot—my trusty scooter—which whisks me from pho to foot massage without complaint.

A Final Note, Like the Last Page of a Well-Worn Journal: Crossing the street here is not a test of speed but of nerve. Be calm. Be visible. Be predictable. The locals are used to us wide-eyed foreigners tottering into traffic like startled hens. They’ll steer around you—just don’t give them reason not to.

Until next time, dear reader, keep your chin high, your sunscreen applied, and your hand at that ever-so-crucial angle.

Yours in slightly perilous motion,

The Old Crone