In Transit

Let me first start off by saying that I have never had a more pleasant flight and airport experience.  Even with three security check points, a building change between flights and two attempts at putting my backpack in checked luggage (it was over 10 kilograms), I navigated through the international terminals of Ohare, LAX, Seoul’s Incheon and Hanoi’s Noi Bai airports with relative ease. 

Bi-Bim-Bab!

Also to note – up until this trip, Southwest Airlines had taken the cake in airline love, but my heart now belongs to another – swoon – Asiana Airlines was like royal treatment compared to any American flight experience I’ve ever had.  With a fleet of graceful attendants dressed in silk aprons and identical tight buns in their hair, my flying companions and I were treated to pillows and super soft blankets, individually screened blockbuster movies and games, two delicious full course meals, complimentary wine, coffee and tea, and numerous rounds of orange juice and water.  If you ever have the chance to choose this airline, I wouldn’t hesitate for a moment.

Now, I would understand the appeal of having a man with your name on a sign, standing in the luggage area waiting to whisk you away to your chosen hotel.  It might cost you $18 but after flying for 22 hours, the ease and comfort of this transfer would be highly worth it.  Perhaps next time I might take this option but for this first time I’ve ever been in Asia, arriving at night with no Vietnamese language or currency experience, I opted for a little more of a…riveting option.   I just wanted to let you know what I COULD have done. 

My past experiences in new lands have told me that couch surfing has always been the better option for gaining a sense of living amongst the locals and learning the inside scoop of a city.   If you are unfamiliar with the term, here’s a quick run-down on the system:

Through an internet community of trusting hosts and travelers, a surfer will connect with a resident (host) of the town she is visiting.   Both surfer and host will confirm the number of days and accommodations and that is it for the expectations.  Every stay is different and a host can have little or lots of involvement in a surfer’s experience. 

So after obtaining my visa upon arrival at the airport, I walked outside to be greeted by a mob of taxi services, but I already knew that they would charge $17-20 to take me into the city.  If I chose the mini-bus taxi, I would only pay $3!  Seemed like a no-brainer.  The mini-bus driver said that he would even drop me off at the address that I had written down for $2 more.  Score!

I boarded the van-like vehicle and greeted the passengers behind me: two Korean guys on holiday.  We engaged in small talk until our driver hopped into his seat and we were off.  The driver spoke very little English, so the 40km ride to Hanoi city was pretty quiet.  I’ve heard that the driving style of Vietnam is a tad on the crazy side, but no research could have prepared me for the adrenaline I would feel in the front seat of this van.  Often through our journey, the driver didn’t want anyone to pass him, so he pulled many confident Bond moves like driving down the middle of both lanes of traffic.  When he felt like the left lane wasn’t going fast enough and he couldn’t pass on the right, he would pass on the oncoming traffic lane.  At one point, this technique was allowing us to pass several cars although there was a curve in the road coming up and I could see headlights approaching.  Gripping my seat, wide-eyed, I watched in utter panic as he narrowly cut off a car in the left lane before the oncoming car hit us.  If you’ve seen The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, there is a scene in the beginning of this exact maneuver.  I casually turned my head back to my Korean companions and smiled, they returned their understanding with a chuckle.   

As we neared the area where my hosts live, the minibus driver was appearing unsure of where he exactly was.  We reached Tran Phu, the correct street, but then he turned off the ignition.

“One minute – that way,” he said, pointing.  “Sorry…sorry.”

Hmmm… see if he had confidently told me that the residence was definitely one minute on foot in a particular direction, I might not have been nervous.  It was the “sorry” that made a few hairs raise.  I gave him the dollars and climbed out.  I was now standing on a dark fairly deserted street at 11:20pm, with two backpacks, an address, a phone number, and the greatest amount of courage I could muster.  Repeatedly reminding myself that Vietnam is a very safe country, I walked down the street and looked for address markers.  So much of the area was gated off because of embassies so it was hard to tell what was behind the gates.  After unsuccessfully finding the marker, I pulled out my notes with his phone number.  It was a lot of numbers.  I tried it several times with no use.  Trying to suppress panic, I walked up to one of many uniformed embassy guards stationed outside the buildings.  I showed him the address, he pointed in a general direction and nodded. 

“Ok,” I thought.  “Just start walking.  You’ll be fine.”

When I couldn’t find the marker, I walked up to a young couple strolling down the sidewalk and with a smile, asked if they spoke English.  They nervously laughed and smiled.  I showed them the address I needed and after going back and forth discussing the address in Vietnamese, they pointed at the phone number that I had next to the address.  I signed asking them if they would call it and they understood!  Whipping out his iPhone, the boy called the number and after five confusing seconds of Vietnamese into the receiver, handed me his phone. 

“Jiri??”

“Yeah!  Where are you?”

“Lost!” (in all reality I was less than a block from his apartment)

I told him where I was and he assured me that he'd be there within minutes.  I waited with the couple, watching a pair of rats scampering and playing together in the moonlight.  In a matter of minutes, he arrived on bicycle for my rescue.  I have never been so excited to see someone pick me up.  I put my hand to my heart and profusely thanked the young Vietnamese couple who had helped me. 

After walking a block to their apartment, I laid my things down in the family room and collapsed onto my hosts’ couch.  After some small talk and laughs over my experience, they asked me if I wanted to go out for a drink.  I looked outside at the now torrential downpour and although I was completely exhausted, I replied with

My bed!

“Have you got an umbrella?”

Sloshing through ankle deep rainwater with our three umbrellas raised, we carried on to a local bar where I would have my first cold brew in Hanoi.  The night’s sleep that followed must have been the heaviest in my life but I was with good people, in a stunning city and totally safe.  I looked forward to Sunday, when I would see the Art Museum, buy a train ticket, and navigate the old quarter.  I have arrived!  The internet connection is a little iffy at the moment and is having trouble uploading photos but I'll try and get some up soon.