The man sitting on a motorcycle with his knees tucked under him smiled at me

Man holding legs on motorbike — Man hugging his knees on a motorcycle

Wandering through a backstreet in Ho Chi Minh City, I noticed a man sitting at the mouth of an alley, perched on a motorbike with his knees drawn up to his chest. He wasn’t doing anything in particular—engine off, motionless—like a perfectly balanced ornament left in place. In the alleys of Vietnam, this kind of “doing nothing time” seems to exist without apology. In the heat, hurrying can only be bad for the body, and if there’s no reason to rush, you simply don’t. That, it seems, is a basic rule of life here.

When I raised my camera, he smiled a little shyly. It wasn’t a salesman’s smile, but the casual friendliness that says, “Well, if you’re going to take it, go ahead,” to a passing traveler. Behind him, the wall was weathered from years of sun and rain, its windows still fitted with wooden shutters. His motorbike was an old Honda, the kind that wore its age with dignity, and the bold lettering of the license plate stood out as if proclaiming itself.

Further down the alley, children played. From a Japanese perspective, the lane was too narrow for any vehicle, yet here motorbikes wove through without hesitation. In Vietnam, a motorbike is more than transport—it’s a chair, a makeshift shop counter, even a stage for riding two-up with a lover. And perhaps, I thought, sitting on one with knees hugged to the chest might even be a practical way to prevent back pain during long stops. Whether or not that was true, the man remained just as he was—smiling quietly, swaying gently in the afternoon light.

Ho Chi Minh City on Google Map

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