To know Saigon is to know the traffic and the madness that it is as compared to the rest of the civilized world. Every aspect of moving around the city by foot, motorbike, or taxi is made more complex by the whistling wheels of the common Honda 125. At first crossing the street can be a time-consuming fright mare, as death seems eminent. After some time and experiments crossing the street seems like broken English spoken from a Russian. "You don't cross street, street cross you!" Nothing could be closer to the truth. Just like in Indian Jones and the Last Crusade, you have to take the first step of faith onto that invisible plank. After that, maneuvering the city is a matter of confidence that the traffic will still avoid you and there wasn't as secret memo to the Vietnamese commuter to hit the foreigners. The worst traffic I have ever seen was the night of TET as depicted above. Traffic stretched for miles as the locals battled to see the lights set up especially for the holiday or to go home. There wasn’t’ an inch to spare and the three-lane one-way street quickly became a parking illuminated by pink and purple flower lights. The only sign of movement was along the sidewalk as on-lookers dodged off-road motorbikes.