Hello Hanoi

The Hanoi international airport opened in 2014, and is as modern, clean and welcoming as any other modern airport in the World. Walking off the plane and into the terminal felt no different than anywhere else, but as we approached immigration we realized this was certainly not like any other country. At the counters, the doors, the offices, virtually everywhere we looked we saw those ominous yellow stars on a red background reminding us that we are now in a communist country. Security was plentiful, and each officer was adorned with the yellow star and other red highlights to their otherwise olive drab uniforms. We lined up at the Visa counter to submit our paperwork, and then to a different line to wait for news of our approval. The officers at the desk were stern and focused on their tasks. Acceptance meant we could enter, but at this point we were not guaranteed entrance. Rejection meant an immediate trip back to our departing city. Seeing the level of security here and being in such a vulnerable position was quite intimidating. We whispered to each other how nervous and uncomfortable we felt.

Finally we were called to the desk and granted approval for our visas. We then went through the regular immigration line and emerged on the other side with an entire country at our disposal to explore. It was a surreal moment. We had prepaid for a driver to take us to our hotel. The visa process took so long the driver apparently gave up and left. We had a phone number but no functioning phone. We had an address but no knowledge where it was or how to get there. Nor did we have any local currency. And Vietnam is one of the few exceptions where the AT&T International texting plan doesn’t work. Again we were nervous. It was a terrible feeling of abandonment. We stood in the arrival area staring as if we thought that looking around hard enough might cause someone to appear to save us. We eventually managed to find a lady at an information booth that agreed to call the shuttle service. She succeeded and within ten minutes the driver had found us. With a great sigh of relief we were in a van and headed to our hotel.

The airport grounds were meticulously groomed, but the moment we left the property we knew we were in a third world country. Almost immediately the small houses and shops that lined the streets turned old and dilapidated. Litter was plentiful and every square inch of open area was being farmed.

The 60 minute drive to the hotel was a complete overload of sights, sounds and senses. The traffic appeared alarmingly hectic. Every inch along the roadway was occupied with houses, stores, shops and pedestrians. The streets were packed with people on motor scooters which appeared to be the primary means of transportation.

By the time we arrived at the hotel we were frazzled. We checked in and went to our comfortable rooms and peered out the windows at the busy and noisy street below. Coming from a clean, quiet and calm place to this was quite a culture shock. We closed the drapes and turned on the TV. We agreed that we were not leaving our rooms that night. We weren’t sure at that point if we would leave them at all.