I have resigned to the fact that I would never have the guts to drive a motorbike. I’m rather contented with my life as a passenger, as a bus rider.
Resil Mojares has a beautiful essay on jeepney riding as a microcosm of life, of culture. His book, together with some of my favorite essayists, will be in my hand this November.
Riding buses here in #Hanoi
exposed me to some Vietnamese cultures. Unlike back home, the buses stop at the designated bus stops and the passengers get on and get off there. ~0~
Even the elderlies, the 70s and 80s, ride buses. When the old gets on the bus, the young ones automatically give their seats to them. ~0~
Monikered as motorbike country, #Vietnam
’s volume of motorbike can be shocking even for this citizen of another developing country. ~0~
A twenty-minute bike ride can stretch into an hour on a bus. I don’t mind though. Bus riding is a special time for me. I get to think more without the phone in sight. And these days, I write in my diary while waiting for my bus.