low at odd angles. At any given moment traffic bore down on me from as many as 6-8 directions, front, back, sides and all angles — everywhere, it seemed, except from above. To me it was a scene of incredible chaos with no order.

The traffic lights compounded my problem. In Saigon they serve only an advisory purpose.I was recently stuck on a curb in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam (everyone there still calls it Saigon). My objective, a restaurant where my husband and my lunch awaited me, stood on the opposite side of the street. I could see the food, smell it and, if you know me, you'll realize I had built up quite an appetite.

Stranded in the Chaos

The only barrier between me and my lunch was crossing the street. Now, this sounds like a simple task, but at noon in Saigon my objective might as well have been the far side of the moon. The road was crammed with motor scooters (called "motos"), bicycles, motorcycles, cyclos (pedaled rickshaws), cars, trucks and buses. The fewer wheels a contraption had, the more passengers it seemed to carry. I saw a family of 5 riding a Honda scooter — sans helmets, of course.

Even the center lines contributed to the confusion. Rather than dividing the traffic into two lanes, each moving in opposite directions, in Saigon the yellow markers apparently serve only to indicate that you are on a paved road. People passed, stopped, turned around and crisscrossed the center lines with utter abandon.

Traffic flowed both ways in the same lane, more traffic merged from the side streets, and people pushed their motos off the curbs into the flow at odd angles. At any given moment traffic bore down on me from as many as 6-8 directions, front, back, sides and all angles — everywhere, it seemed, except from above. To me it was a scene of incredible chaos with no order.

The traffic lights compounded my problem. In Saigon they serve only an advisory purpose. randed in the Chaos

The only barrier between me and my lunch was crossing the street. Now, this sounds like a simple task, but at noon in Saigon my objective might as well have been the far side of the moon. The road was crammed with motor scooters (called "motos"), bicycles, motorcycles, cyclos (pedaled rickshaws), cars, trucks and buses. The fewer wheels a contraption had, the more passengers it seemed to carry. I saw a family of 5 riding a Honda scooter — sans helmets, of course.

Even the center lines contributed to the confusion. Rather than dividing the traffic into two lanes, each moving in opposite directions, in Saigon the yellow markers apparently serve only to indicate that you are on a paved road. People passed, stopped, turned around and crisscrossed the center lines with utter abandon.

Traffic flowed both ways in the same lane, more traffic merged from the side streets, and people pushed their motos off the curbs into the flow at odd angles. At any given moment traffic bore down on me from as many as 6-8 directions, front, back, sides and all angles — everywhere, it seemed, except from above. To me it was a scene of incredible chaos with no order.

The traffic lights compounded my problem. In Saigon they serve only an advisory purpose.s), cars, trucks and buses. The fewer wheels a contraption had, the more passengers it seemed to carry. I saw a family of 5 riding a Honda scooter — sans helmets, of course.

Even the center lines contributed to the confusion. Rather than dividing the traffic into two lanes, each moving in opposite directions, in Saigon the yellow markers apparently serve only to indicate that you are on a paved road. People passed, stopped, turned around and crisscrossed the center lines with utter abandon.

Traffic flowed both ways in the same lane, more traffic merged from the side streets, and people pushed their motos off the curbs into the flow at odd angles. At any given moment traffic bore down on me from as many as 6-8 directions, front, back, sides and all angles — everywhere, it seemed, except from above. To me it was a scene of incredible chaos with no order.

The traffic lights compounded my problem. In Saigon they serve only an advisory purpose.on the yellow markers apparently serve only to indicate that you are on a paved road. People passed, stopped, turned around and crisscrossed the center lines with utter abandon.

Traffic flowed both ways in the same lane, more traffic merged from the side streets, and people pushed their motos off the curbs into the flow at odd angles. At any given moment traffic bore down on me from as many as 6-8 directions, front, back, sides and all angles — everywhere, it seemed, except from above. To me it was a scene of incredible chaos with no order.

The traffic lights compounded my problem. In Saigon they serve only an advisory purpose.low at odd angles. At any given moment traffic bore down on me from as many as 6-8 directions, front, back, sides and all angles — everywhere, it seemed, except from above. To me it was a scene of incredible chaos with no order.

The traffic lights compounded my problem. In Saigon they serve only an advisory purpose. Even when the light turned red, traffic continued to flow, as drivers blatantly ignored the red light! The lanes of traffic impatiently waiting at the green light would edge forward into the traffic that was ignoring the red light. At some point traffic trying to move with the green light would build up enough momentum (and vehicles) to stop the traffic running the red light. Traffic would then flow correctly until the light changed, and the whole process started again.

Dancing through the Chaos

Under this onslaught the flashing green "walk" sign over the crosswalk taunted me from the far side of the street. I was ready to look for something to eat (and a place to sit) on my side of the street when an older Vietnamese gentleman took my arm.

In English he kindly said, "Crossing the street is not a problem, but a dance." With that we stepped off the curb and entered the maelstrom together.

My heart pounded as we walked slowly across the street. Instead of greeting us with blaring horns, irate shouts and screeching brakes, the drivers saw us and adjusted to us. As long as we made no sudden movements (like diving for the curb or running screaming from the street), we were fine. I felt like we were swimming through a school of fish. The tempest flow