位於越南河內市中心的「火車軌道街」（Train Street），近年來成為全球社交媒體上爆紅的「打卡聖地」，吸引無數遊客慕名而來。然而，在這條街道的熱鬧與喧囂背後，卻隱藏著一個越來越難以忽視的危機：當刺激與獵奇凌駕於安全之上，浪漫的異國情調，隨時都可能變成奪命的陷阱。

這條街位於河內還劍郡（Hoàn Kiếm）的核心地帶，毗鄰奠邊坊（Điện Biên）、南門坊（Cửa Nam）與行坊（Hàng Bông）。與一般旅遊景點不同，火車軌道街並沒有壯麗的建築或特別的地標。它之所以聞名於世，全因那條穿梭於居民住宅之間的鐵軌。兩側的房屋與鐵道之間，距離近得幾乎讓人屏息，軌道前的空間僅容納一張小桌或幾張椅子。當地居民聰明地將這些狹長的空間改造成充滿個人風格的咖啡館與小吃攤，營造出一種「鐵軌邊的生活美學」。

然而，最令遊客趨之若鶩的，並非咖啡或風景，而是那段「與火車擦身而過」的瞬間。每當遠方傳來火車鳴笛的聲音，整條街立刻進入「準備模式」：店家熟練地收起遮陽棚與桌椅，遊客則舉起手機，屏息等待。當巨大的鋼鐵車身呼嘯而過，風壓與震動席捲全場，火車與人之間的距離甚至不到半公尺。這種近乎「挑戰死神」的感官刺激，成為網紅影片的固定素材，也讓這裡被國際媒體譽為「來河內必訪的體驗景點」。

然而，這份「刺激」背後早已潛藏著致命風險。就在近期，一起新的事件再度引發輿論關注——火車經過時，路邊的桌椅被強風掀翻，險些造成事故。幸運的是，無人受傷，但這樣的「幸運」並非第一次，也不可能永遠重演。事實上，早在2024年底，就有外國遊客為了拍攝短片，蹲坐在鐵軌邊，結果差點被飛馳而過的列車撞上。這些驚險畫面被上傳網路後，不僅沒有讓人們警醒，反而助長了更多人「以命博取點擊率」的風氣。

面對安全風險的日益升高，當地政府其實早已多次出手干預。還劍郡經濟基礎設施與都市辦公室在這次事件後立即回應，表示案件已移交公安機關處理。事實上，早在今年三月，河內市旅遊局就已正式下達通知，要求全市旅行社停止組團前往該區域，並強調該地潛藏嚴重交通安全隱患。還劍郡人民委員會也多次指示警方加強巡查、維持秩序。

然而，這些禁令與勸告在「網紅經濟」的浪潮下顯得力不從心。店家為了生計繼續營業，遊客為照片與影片甘冒風險，雙方在無形中達成一種「危險的默契」。這條街道的繁榮，不再建立在居民的日常與文化氛圍上，而是以「危險」作為賣點，形成一種扭曲的觀光現象。

火車軌道街事件，不僅是一次安全事故，更是一面鏡子，映照出當代「網紅文化」的矛盾本質。人們追求「真實體驗」與「沉浸式旅遊」，卻往往忽略了安全的底線；城市為觀光收益而默許風險，卻逐漸失去對公共安全的基本守護。當一條充滿人情味的居民巷弄，被塑造成「玩命取景點」，我們失去的不只是安全，更是對生命的敬畏與對城市責任的尊重。

河內的火車軌道街原本該是生活與工業交錯的象徵，一條能展現越南城市節奏與人文溫度的街道。但如今，它卻成全球「流量文化」的犧牲品。或許，該是讓這條街回歸本真的時候了。遊客應放下那份「為了照片而冒險」的心態，店家也應守住生意與安全的界線，而當局則必須拿出更有效的長期治理方案。

真正的旅程，應該是為體驗生活，而不是挑戰死亡。唯有當城市找回安全與秩序，當旅人重拾尊重與理性，河內的火車軌道街，才有機會重現它原本的詩意與人情光彩。

Nestled in the heart of Hanoi’s Hoàn Kiếm District, the Train Street has become one of the most famous — and controversial — “check-in” spots in Southeast Asia. To many foreign travelers, it seems like a must-see attraction, offering an adrenaline-charged encounter between daily life and the roaring rush of steel. Yet behind its viral charm lies a troubling question: when the pursuit of thrill and social media fame overshadows safety, what are we really celebrating — culture, or danger?

The Train Street runs through several bustling neighborhoods, including Điện Biên, Cửa Nam, and Hàng Bông. Unlike typical tourist destinations, it has no grand monuments or historic buildings. Its fame comes entirely from the railway that cuts through the middle of residential houses — so close that the gap between a passing train and a café chair can be measured in inches. Locals have ingeniously turned the narrow strips of space in front of their homes into small coffee shops and snack stalls, creating a cozy, intimate street life atmosphere that feels both authentic and surreal.

What truly draws visitors, however, is the thrill. As the distant sound of a train whistle grows louder, a wave of anticipation sweeps over the street. Café owners swiftly fold tables and retract awnings, while tourists grab their phones, poised for that one heart-stopping moment. Then, with a deafening roar, the train thunders past — the wind buffets faces, cups rattle on tables, and the steel wheels blur just an arm’s length away. The visceral intensity of the experience has made the street world-famous, often described by international media as a “must-see in Hanoi.”

But the same element that makes it exciting also makes it dangerous. The most recent incident — in which the force of a passing train sent café furniture flying — once again reminded the public of the risks. Thankfully, no one was hurt. Yet how many times can “luck” be counted on? Similar close calls have occurred before. In late 2024, a foreign tourist sitting by the track for a video narrowly avoided being struck by an oncoming train. Ironically, such near-tragedies, when uploaded online, have only fueled the street’s notoriety, drawing even more visitors eager to chase the same perilous thrill.

Local authorities have not been blind to the problem. Following the latest incident, Hoàn Kiếm District’s Infrastructure and Urban Affairs Office immediately handed the case over to the police. Earlier, in March 2025, the Hanoi Tourism Department formally instructed all travel agencies to stop organizing tours to the area, citing severe transportation safety risks. The district’s People’s Committee also ordered intensified patrols and stricter enforcement.

Yet, despite these efforts, enforcement has struggled against the powerful forces of “viral tourism.” For shop owners, the tourist influx is their livelihood; for visitors, the danger itself is the attraction. Together, they form an unspoken pact — a dangerous one — that trades safety for spectacle. The Train Street’s charm has thus been distorted: what was once a living neighborhood has become a stage set for risk-taking and clicks.

This incident is more than a safety issue; it reflects the deeper paradox of modern “influencer culture.” We claim to seek authentic experiences, but often what we really chase is spectacle. Cities, too, are caught in this dilemma — balancing tourism revenue with public responsibility. When a once-vibrant local street becomes a viral backdrop for near-death selfies, what is lost is not just safety, but humanity’s respect for life and the city’s duty to protect it.

The true beauty of Hanoi’s Train Street should lie in its coexistence of everyday life and industrial rhythm — the sight of locals sipping coffee as trains pass, a rare harmony of old and new. But when that balance is replaced by reckless thrill-seeking, its poetry turns hollow. Perhaps it is time for this street to return to what it once was: a living, breathing part of the city, not a “danger zone” for viral fame.

Tourists must learn to draw the line between curiosity and risk; café owners must prioritize safety over profit; and city officials must find sustainable solutions that safeguard lives without erasing the street’s soul. Because in the end, the true “romance of travel” should never be built upon danger — it should be about connection, culture, and respect for life itself.