What I didn't think about was how the 90 million or so Vietnamese deal with the rainy season and the fact that there might be an easier way than suiting up for battle with the weather. I guess one could say my preparation was typically American or Western, that of facing off with Mother Nature by garnering all the available resources and digging in my heels for a victory or at least a contentious stand-off.
There are no REI's in Vietnam yet and even if there were very few Vietnamese could or would shop there. However, in the still somewhat new Crescent Mall in District 7, there is a Coleman store selling the usual array of outdoor and camping gear. I've never camped in Vietnam and I'm not sure where the Vietnamese would do so, but there are a few national parks scattered around mostly in the central regions, but I've read that overnight camping of the backpacking variety isn't allowed in them. The wide open spaces and unspoiled natural beauty of the American west is something that just doesn't exist here and it's something that I truly miss. I always knew that it was a special gift to spend time in such a place and coming here only reinforces the point. The idea of putting on a backpack and hiking out into the woods to sleep in a tent doesn't evoke the same romantic notions of freedom here as it does elsewhere and that's for a number of reasons. First, most people here dream of living in a nicer and bigger house than they currently have so sleeping in a tent is the antithesis of that. Then there's the social stigma that would go along with that. Conformity and fitting in with the rest of society carry a higher priority here than in the west so it's more difficult to strike out on one's own even if one wants to because there's a social price to be paid for daring to do that. Finally, there's the less friendly conditions for camping with the tropical flora, fauna, and weather. I do see tents in use in Vietnam, but it's always in a crowded public park or at a beach and just for sun protection or for the kids to play in.
I should pop into the Coleman store one day and enquire about the nature of their sales.
After arriving here I soon discovered the way 95+% of Vietnamese deal with rain is to throw on a plastic rain poncho. These ponchos, or raincoats if you like, come in various levels of quality from the cheap flimsy type that are often treated as disposable to heavier longer-lasting types. At the first sign of rain, which during the rainy season from April to September is at least once daily, roadside vendors break out their raincoats for sale and often do a brisk business as so many motorbike riders invariably get caught out when the weather turns as quickly as it so often does here.
In addition to the use of the plastic raincoats most Vietnamese, especially if they're motorbike riders, dress appropriately for rainy weather so that it really doesn't matter too much if they get soaked. The most important aspect of this attire is the shoes. The standard type of footwear in Vietnam among the motorbike class is the cheap plastic sandal which can be freely submerged in water without affecting the wearer's temperament in the slightest other than perhaps being thought of as a free foot bath.
The rainy weather isn't too much of a problem as long as one isn't forced to ride a motorbike while wearing nicer attire, especially nice shoes. If this isn't the case however the rain suddenly becomes problematic. I discovered this recently when I was out on my motorbike wearing a pair of nice leather shoes with a backpack full of groceries I had just purchased and was caught in a torrential downpour.
For those living in Vietnam who are not members of the motorbike class, the rain doesn't matter so much other than possibly being a slight inconvenience or annoyance. The non-member motorbike class members I'm referring to are those above the class, but it may apply somewhat to those below. I'd say the motorbike class includes about 95% of the population. Those below the motorbike class are mostly students who will soon become members of the class and there are a few so poor they can't afford to ride a motorbike, but these are very few in number. But these people wither walk or travel by bicycle both modes being better during rainstorms in my opinion. Those above the motorbike class are wealthy enough to own a private car or hire one or use taxis.
There are also foreigners living and working in Vietnam who have transportation provided by their companies usually in the form of a van for commuting to work. I've met some Koreans who are here working for Korean or Japanese companies and one who works for a Japanese company told me he's forbidden by company policy to drive a motorbike while he's in their employ here. I'm sure this comes down to some sort of insurance issue.
So when I got caught in the deluge I quickly became aware of a number of unsavory aspects to riding a motorbike in the rain. The first bit of information that becomes glaringly soakingly obvious is that the rain ponchos do only a fair job of keeping one dry. First, they only cover from the head down to around the ankles, leaving the feet and shoes completely exposed. Secondly, if the rain is heavy enough or you've been in it long enough, it starts to leak down into the poncho from the neck area unless you've figured out a way to seal the neckline off.
The third problem is the worst one. It's really not so bad getting rained on as it can be refreshing and cleansing for the motorbike if not also for the rider. But the main problem isn't the falling rain, it's the fallen rain.
Good drainage systems are one of those things that you'll likely never even think about until you see the distasteful effects of poor ones. Vietnam is a country that suffers from generally poor infrastructure, even though there have been monumental improvements in the last few decades, and is a country that really needs good drainage systems for its roads but unfortunately doesn't have them yet except in a few newly developed areas. To my very unpleasant surprise I've discovered since moving into the fairly new high-rise bulding I now live in that the streets in front of and approaching the building transform into deep foul-looking ponds and sluggish streams under a heavy downpour. If you're riding a motorbike on these streets, just forget having feet and shoes that are not completely water-logged due to the splashing up of this standing run-off. Even if you're so careful as to not splash it up on yourself, any number of fellow motorbike and vehicle drivers will take care of that for you as they roar by between sheets of flying run-off out that come cascading down on all in their wake. You will not be spared.
In addition to getting soaked there is also a sanitation aspect to the air borne run-off. The collected run-off in the streets here is, in a word, nasty, as of course it would be anywhere. I prefer not to dwell on what could be discovered by a too-close scrutiny of it, but when arriving home after a motorbike ride in the rain in Saigon, the first order of business is to strip down and go straight for the shower.
A teacher friend told me the only way he can commute by motorbike to work here during the rainy season is by wearing a full rain suit along with a pair of plastic sandals while keeping his work shoes in his backpack. So maybe my original purchase of the quality rain pants wasn't such a foolish one after all.
My own leather shoes are now sitting by the window at the start of what will probably be a 3-day drying out period during which I am avoiding touching them.
From an aesthetic point of view there are, however, at least two inspiring phenomena during the rainy season and they're both to be found in the sky, specifically the clouds and lightning one sees before and during the storms. The cloud formations here, even when the weather is nice, are truly amazing. High, billowing, majestic, white formations towering up into the bright blue air that remind one that there is still natural beauty here in this sprawling urban landscape. The lightning flashes are like none I've ever seen and can only be described as spectacular as they crackle and flash across the darkened sky from horizon to horizon like glowing yellow spider webs.
Ah, the romance of the rain!
I noticed my neighbor below regularly takes afternoon runs on his cramped terrace. I zoomed in on him for this shot. While showing us all what a little adaptability can accomplish, I did a rough calculation and figured a mile would be north of 200 laps!