Walking through Hanoi's Old Quarter, the incessant sound of motorcycles reached my ears

As I wandered through the Old Quarter of Hanoi, the constant roar of motorbikes filled my ears.

Horns blaring, engines growling, the occasional shout—waves of bikes surged in from every direction, and for a moment, I found myself frozen in place. Zipping past me were riders of all ages: some riding solo, others in pairs or threes, some balancing bags of groceries, others steering with one hand while scrolling on their phones with the other.

The streets here are narrow, and traffic signals or crosswalks offer little comfort. At first, I tried waiting for a break in the flow—but it never came. Eventually, I gave in and stepped forward, weaving carefully between bikes, one foot at a time. It felt like a tiny act of courage each time I crossed.

In Hanoi, the rhythm of life seems perfectly synchronized with the pulse of motorbike engines. More agile than cars, more intimate with the streets than buses, motorbikes aren’t just transportation—they're the lifeblood of the city.

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