Crossing the road in Vietnam

As I noted in my previous post Saigon: Motorbike Capital of the World, crossing the road in Vietnam at first seems impossible. How to step willingly into an incessant wave of oncoming traffic and not succumb to the flood, is something that not only seems to defy all accepted laws of physics, but which, by general consensus, is also pretty near suicidal. It is something that cannot simply be seen to be believed; it must, by its own adrenalized nature, be experienced in all its near-death glory.

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Saigon: Motorbike Capital of the World

Another trip, another country. First time in Vietnam. Arriving in Saigon with little clue as to what to expect … only that there would be motorbikes. But exactly how many motorbikes there would be in Saigon I never imagined. On the journey from airport to hostel there was barely room for anything else. Taxis seemed entirely overwhelmed by the thousands of helmeted road warriors zipping by, and as for buses, or the lack thereof, first impressions pointed towards public transport probably not being the most convenient way to get around town.

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The death of the nomad: Erlian to Ulaanbaatar

Though we left Erlian at 17:10, it was 21:25 by the time train 685 departed Zamyn-Uud for Ulaanbaatar. The Chinese officials did their thing on the one side of the China-Mongolia border, while the Mongolians did theirs on the other. We then had a couple of hours waiting around at Zamyn-uud station while the train’s bogies were changed to fit the wider Mongolian rail gauge, before we were finally on our way again.

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