Long Xuyen starts its day early. Depending on where you are, it may be the crowing of roosters, it may be the pops and snaps of a charcoal street oven, or the calls of street vendors advertising their wares. However, no matter where you are, the high revolution engines of motorbikes generate a buzzing cacophony, like a giant beehive stirring to life.
I took an early morning jaunt with some friends through the streets and alleys of Long Xuyen today, and despite the early morning hours, the “hive” was intensely active at 0630. Young men and women, hustling off to work. Vendors, hauling their goods. Children, sharply dressed in their uniforms, were hurriedly being ferried to school on time.
At the centre of all of these activities, is the humble motorbike. It is the van, the family sedan, and the school bus. Whether jammed together, seemingly handlebar-to-handlebar on main thoroughfares, or deftly weaving their way through the alleys of the shanty towns, the motorbike is the “worker bee” for this hive. However, these little machines are far from anonymous. Each will make itself heard as its rider will regularly pump the horn to announce its presence to the other vehicles vying for precious road space. Every so often, a larger beast, such as a truck or bus, will emit a much deeper grunt, and will simply muscle its way through the mass of traffic. The poor little motorbikes have no choice but to give way lest they be crushed by these clumsy, demanding vehicles.
There is a method to this early morning madness. The temperature quickly reaches a stifling intensity at mid-day, so the locals attempt to complete as many tasks as possible, so that they can take a little break midday when the sun is at its zenith. At this time, the hive seemingly quiets down, the buzzing din settles, and streets appear relatively empty. Here again, the unassuming motorbike serves a purpose. Kickstands deployed, and under a nearby stall, or tree, the motorbike serves as a convenient bed for its weary and overheated rider to catch a midday snooze.
Once the sun sets, the hive starts up again, and with greater intensity than the morning. Glowing headlights fill the street, neon signs are garishly ablaze, and rapid-fire pop music (K-Pop? J-Pop? Maybe it’s V-Pop) attempts to draw would-be consumers into stores. The population has been recharged by their midday break, and are ready for some action.
As expected, the motorbike tirelessly ferries Long Xuyen’s residents on their nocturnal adventures. The night makes these little creatures even more vocal, and the collective beeps of their horns at times drown out the buzz of their engines. The labours of the day, and of Long Xuyen’s little worker bees, has resulted in the unmistakable, and potent scent of two-stroke engine exhaust, which saturates the air, like some sort of over-powering cologne. Walking the streets of Long Xuyen at night reveals frenetic activity, but not oriented towards work, but towards play. An early morning start is looming, and labours of the next day draw close, so while rest will be key, unwinding with a warm bowl of Pho, with a side of rapid-fire conversation will ensure that the city’s residents will be ready to face the next day’s challenges.
Bellies full, and senses satiated, Long Xuyen’s residents head home, courtesy of their tireless motorbikes. Children, secure in their parents’ arms, are often lulled to sleep by the comforting whine and cadence of their family’s motorbike – a mechanical lullaby if you will.
Long Xuyen quiets down as midnight passes, but as most slip off to bed, and the streets once again empty, the city is never entirely silent. Motorbikes give Long Xuyen a constant, albeit a softer, and more sedate buzz, as they keep the city functioning throughout the night.
It appears that there is rest for the weary, and the wicked alike, but never for the wheeled. The humble motorbike’s labours are never complete in Long Xuyen.