Saigon Part One

Well, I have been home for a few days now.  It feels very bizarre.  It has taken me a while to get internet in my room (but not so long to buy a giant ass TV and spent a bunch of money) so this is all really late.  I tried really hard to take a lot of notes on my way through SE Asia.  Here it is.  Part one of "What the Crap Was I Thinking?"

Vietnam was my Vietnam. 

Hours earlier I had woken up in familiarity at a little hotel in Seoul.  The sun had risen to what looked to be a nice day on the peninsula.  Now, my plane is bouncing around a runway at night.  Trees that look like palms are silhouetted by the lights of run down and abandoned buildings with a distinctively French architecture that dot the area around the airport. 

I walk off the plane and am blitzkrieged by the heat and humidity of Saigon.  My skin becomes moist and my jeans suffocating.  As I stand on the bus that will take us to the arrival terminal of the airport I am pressed against the window Publish Postby the crowd of people piling in.  It isn’t so bad really.  There is air-conditioning and it I am in little danger of falling given that I can’t move.  And the view is good, so my eyes dart around as my cheek squishes against the window.  Behind a green fence are a couple of old bombers.  Their windows are smashed and the war-green paint is dinged up in a few areas.  Their identifying numbers are barely visible, but they are there.  They look like movie props from every Vietnam flick ever made but they are probably the real deal. 

Welcome to Saigon.

It is a strange transition between Korea and Vietnam.  I think it must be a strange transition for anybody to go from East Asia to Southeast Asia, or the opposite.  My first experience in Saigon, now officially Ho Chi Minh City (but Saigon sounds oh so much cooler), was a pretty good example.

I had become soft in Korea; too trusting.  You could probably leave your wallet in any bar and stand a pretty good chance of it being returned with nothing missing.  I rarely locked my apartment door (until my students started to come around towards the end).  I never thought twice about getting into a cab because they are all the same, and they are all cheap.

I hoped that the airport in Saigon would have a kiosk where you could arrange pick-up to a cheap hotel.  That was my plan after I had my visa processed.  Incheon Airport in Korea has said kiosks every thirty feet.  Saigon had zero. 

It was late.  Everything was closed and besides there wasn’t much to the airport in Saigon.  Just a long corridor with a few little rooms, most of which were abandoned.  I changed some of my Korean Won into Vietnamese Dong and walked out again into the heat.

There was nobody in the airport because everybody was outside.  Hundreds of people were mulling around waiting for arrivals. 

I walked away from the crowd to stand for a moment and formulate a game plan.  This was something I should have probably done before arriving in Vietnam but I was not yet worried.  I had a 3 week jaunt through Southeast Asia and not a single plan.  Immediately I was approached by this rotund guy who spoke pretty decent English. 

While Korea made me soft it did not make me stupid.  In defense of what happened I have to point out that I was exhausted.  I was pulling two big pieces of luggage.  I was wearing jeans and sweating profusely and had taken a decent amount of xanax for the plane ride.

The mind is quick to accept a way out of duress, even if that way is something you would not have gone for under normal circumstances.

The round man was a taxi driver.  He spoke with me for a while and I spoke back.  He seemed to be a genuinely nice guy; a little pushy but nice.  He spoke of Saigon with a lot of pride.  He asked about the handkerchief I had attached to my camera bag and he seemed interested when I told him it had come from Seoraksan in Korea.  Eventually one of his buddies, a thin and loud sort of jerk came over and began chatting too. 

The thin guy grabbed my arm and started running his fingers over the tattoo on my arm and asking me questions, particularly if I was traveling alone and why. 

At this point the first guy started to grab my luggage and walk towards his car.  Given that I had yet to agree to a ride this should have been my key to bail and find an official taxi company as opposed to a couple of goons in the shadows.

I grabbed my bag and asked him where he was going.  He told me he would take me to a cheap hotel near downtown.  I thought on it and decided, against my gut, that I might as well ride with tubby.  I had to get to a hotel and this guy didn’t seem all bad.  Or maybe he did, I didn’t know.  I was exhausted.

I got into his car.  It had no taxi markings on it.  It bothered me a little but not enough to send any sort of alarm. 

I closed the door and the thin guy jumped into the passenger seat up front and said something real quick.  For a moment I thought I was about to get robbed.  I became very self-conscious of having an absurd amount of cash on me.

The thin guy spoke again and then told me I had to pay a fee to him because he was the boss.  I gave him money and he told me that he would keep my change as a present.  He then smiled, jumped out of the car and ran away. 

Shortly after this the cabbie hit me up for the cost of the exit toll (this is pretty standard).  He then took me to a hotel that cost $80 a night in the middle of a colony of homeless families.  The taxi cost almost as much as the hotel.  I didn’t pick up on this until I looked up the exchange rate. 

The next day, after paying for water I drank from the mini-bar and becoming extremely depressed over a rocky start to my trip and losing quite a bit of enthusiasm for the entire thing, I took a reasonably priced cab back to the airport to try again.  My debit card was sitting somewhere in my old apartment in Cheongju so my wad of cash was all I had for the duration. 

$80 hotels were not in my budget. 

The second cab driver looked like a 90 year old mole.  He spoke in this high-pitched whine that reminded me of the old man in the Adam Sandler Chanukah cartoon.  He led me to his car (totally thread bare, by the way), charged me the exit toll, and brought me at last to a cheapish hotel.  He told me he had gotten me a deal because I had been good to him and that he thought I was nice.  I thanked him for finding what looked to be (and actually was) a safe and legit hotel.  He then made a valid effort to scam me out of a lot of money (and was successful to a certain extent) before he drove off.

I was then led upstairs to my tiny $20 a night room.  I moved my luggage into a corner and relaxed for the first time since leaving Korea.    

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How to replace your lost passport in Korea

A few days ago I set out to send some money home and go to the pension office to cash ou of the Korean Pension Scheme.  This leads to the only informative thing in this blog. 

What do you do when you lose your passport less than two weeks before leaving Korea?

Here is what you do:

1. Panic.
2. Panic and google "Lost Passport," "Seoul," "Emergency," and various onscenities.
3. Look up how to get to the embassy the next day.  Then freak out when they tell you they do not take walk-ins on Wednesdays.
4. Try to make an appointment at the Embassy in Seoul via their convenient appointment program.
5. Swear when it doesn't work on the school computer.
6. Swear and throw stuff when it doesn't work on your computer at home.
7. Contact Larry and have him do it forward.  He got me into Korea and he can sure as hell get me out.
8. Thank him when he gets you an appointment.
9. Stay up all night watching Modern Family and get on a bus at 6am.
10. Fill out the passport application / list passport (also known as "you dumbass, how could you lose your passport).  
11. Arrive at the embassy and admire that it's in a really beautiful part of Seoul.
12. Stand at the security door awkwardly. 
13. Walk in and hand the man a printed paper indicating an official appointment / hand him a handwritten copy because you don't have a printer.
14. Give the man your bag and kiss your Kindle / phone goodbye (for the duration). 
*** Write down your phone number.  You look like an ass when they figure out you dont have it memorized.
15. Take your badge and cross a parking lot.
16. Walk in and stand at a window until somebody comes.
17. Explain (with a certain amount of shame) that you are, in fact, a dumbass and lost your passport.  Remember that the Embassy is a prominent and reoccurring character on Locked-Up Abroad and feel a little better.
18. Have your number called well before your meeting time.
19. Give them your passport photos.
IF NOT:
- Follow a horrible map to a building that has a photo company who will give you photos. 
- Get lost in a goddamn fire station because the map is crappy.
- Walk to the top floor of the right building (behind the fire station) and ask for the photo service.
- Be told that the photo service was the mall-photo machine you passed in one of the stairwells.
- Pay 8,000W with a 10,000W bill and be told afterwards that no change will be given.
- Take the worst passport photo possible.
- Navigate sizing options as a timer ticks down.  This, it should be noted, is a hell of a lot more stressful under the duress of losing your passport when you are leaving the country in a short amount of time.
- Avoid adding bigger eyes or cute birds as those are both options.
- Laugh and say "WTF Korea."
- Return, passing protests and a line of people at the back entrance looking to get a visa to the States.
20. Give over photos and think about how you will look like a sweaty pedophile in your passport for the next 10 years.
21. Fill out your address on a mailing card and pray to god it works because you can only get a cab to your apartment 50% of the time.
22. Swear an oath.
23. Be given map number 2. 
24. March down to the police station to file a report mostly to avoid identity theft.
25. Turn in report.
26. Leave.
27. Go to Dragon Hill Spa to sleep.
28. Eat Taco Bell in Itaewon to make sure you ruin the rest of the day.
29. Take a bus home with the hope of atleast accomplishing something that isn't a step backwards (like cleaning the apartment you trashed looking for your passport).
30. Be called into school to teach your last class.
31. Fall asleep at your computer.
32. Hope like hell you do not find your passport.

All in all, it wasn't too bad.  I am stressed as hell but the embassy was really helpful.  Shit happens, I guess.  It cost me about $130 for the replacement and it will take a couple weeks.  Casually, the woman told me that I shouldn't worry yet when asked if I should postpone my flight.  She then gave me a card and told me to call it if I didn't ge my passport the day before my flight and they would see what they could do to, which I take to mean an on-the-spot solution.
Also, I made friends with the security because I had to go in and out repeatedly.  Don't lose your passport right before you leave.  It feels horrible.

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