I hadn't got back to my place until some time past midnight so it was quite late when I had gone to sleep. I had set my alarm at a 'reasonable' time, since I wasn't meeting with my interpreter until, I think 10. Not for work though, just for pleasure. She had offered to take me to the Hoa Lo Penetentiary and to hang out a bit.
However, I was woken up at around 7 by some really awful karaoke singing outside. I thought to myself who could possibly be singing karaoke at 7 o'clock on a Monday morning(?)! So I should have slept with my ear plugs after all...but it hadn't been like this the other mornings!
After having tried to shield myself from the noise outside, I heard someone speaking in a microphone or megaphone or over a speaker system, and the sound of huge drums. It reminded me of Mulan, when the villages were notified that people from the army were arriving by banging huge drums. Then I heard, what sounded like, a huge group of children singing. At this point, I got out of bed to see what on earth was going on outside.
I had realized one of the first days in this studio that my room was facing a schoolyard. Now when I looked out, I saw kids neatly lined up rows in the schoolyard singing. After that, there were some more announcements in the speakers or megaphone.
I was still tired but not sleepy enough to fall back asleep. So I decided I may as well do something useful with my time. Start writing. I should start packing but I didn't feel like it yet.
My French friend wrote me to tell me he had decided to take my advice and go to Halong Bay for the day. Not just my advice, but apparently also the guide or someone had said the forecase was looking good today but tomorrow it'd rain. He should be back around 8 PM in time for the street dance though, in case we wanted to go. To 'make it up to me' (not that he needed to), he said I could text or call him if I needed help with the dance shoes. He also offered to extend the rent of his scooter by one day so I could use it, but I said I'd probably be fine.
My interpreter also messaged me, asking if it was OK that she'd be late. It suited me better actually, though I can't remember what was stalling me, if anything. Maybe just my laziness.
When she arrived, she took me to Hoa Lo Penitentiary, like we had talked about. On the way, I told and asked her about the incident in the morning with all the school kids. She explained that usually, school would start at 7 AM, and that every Monday morning, everyone had to gather in the schoolyard to sing the national anthem together. Some announcements may be made in relation to that.
The penitentiary was close by, technically in walking distance, but as you may have learnt by now, the locals don't really walk anywhere. They had audio guides that would take 70 minutes if listening to everything. We didn't quite have time for the entire thing but they said I could skip some of it, so I got one. My interpreter had been there once before, so she didn't get one.
Having studied crime, justice and security, penitentiaries turned into museums is just my thing. I loved the one in Pennsylvania. This one was a bit more historical so I'll admit that most things they talked about in the guide, I've already forgotten. But in short, it was one of the more notorious prisons in Vietnam. I think it housed normal prisoners too, but the main emphasis of the audio guide at least were on political prisoners and revolutionaries that were kept there under really inhumane conditions while under French rule.
They described the spaces being overcrowded, lacking ventilation, only having one "toilet" per already overcrowded space, and which was in front of the fellow prisoners. Sometimes, if someone had violated prison rules, the guards would refuse to empty the toilet for days, so, no surprise, disease would spread too.
Prisoners would, depending on how 'dangerous' they were evaluated to be, be shackled by the foot part of, or all day and prisoners were shackled together on a long bar. The food they'd get was moldy, rotten and/or had moths.
There were also special areas dedicated to female prisoners - and female prisoners with children. There was old torture equipment. Dungeons, sort of like solitary confinement, which was for breaking prison regulations where, somehow, conditions were even worse than the general ones. They were kept in such darkness and for so long that some prisoners would come out blind.
There were both descriptions of the prison in general in the audio guide but some tracks were about specific prisoners or events. Like two group escapes through the sewage systems. A lot of the prisoners failed (got caught) though but some managed.
Later on, the penitentiary was also used for American prisoners of war. At that time, I had sort of started losing my concentration though. Went through the exhibitions about Vietnam-American reconciliation a bit quicker than all the other rooms.
After the Penitentiary, we went for lunch. My interpreter drove us to some place near Westlake that she really liked; there was another thing I still hadn't tried. She thought she remembered where the place was, but when we got there, it wasn't there. So she needed to check the map and we circulated round for a bit until we found the place.
It was a small restaurant, not with tiny chairs but definitely nothing fancy either. The lake was just outside the door.
I think it was like a type of tofu that my interpreter ordered, rather than another type of deep-fried bread ish thing, though when I look at the picture, it looks more just like deep-fried bread... It was served with beef. Then we also ordered the bánh cuốn (summer rolls ish) with beef. Last minute, we decided to change the bánh cuốn to ones with beef and eggs. Neither of us had tried it but it looked and sounded delicious. We agreed that while they were good, they are usually better without the eggs though.
I was going to pay but my interpreter reminded me of our deal (her deal) that she would pay in her neighbourhood...
After only a few minutes, we stopped by the side of the road where a woman was standing with a big white box on top of one of those tiny plastic chairs. The white box had red letters on it that read 'bò bía keo nha'. One side of the box opened down like a changing table, except, instead of a changing table for babies, she had the ingredients for making the dessert. It was basically rice paper with some fresh shredded coconut, sugarcane and…I think that was it? Maybe black sesame seeds too.
The sugarcane is so sweet so it made everything sweet, but the shredded stuff was hard so in terms of consistency, it felt more like eating rice paper with shredded cucumber or something. Really tasty, but I was also just so full… My interpreter took over the driving again while I was munching on my dessert.
We only had a short while before I was meeting with my language friend. There were so many goodbyes to do these last days before leaving! We spent the time until my friend would arrive looking through some shops in the Old Quarter for those modern ao dai dresses. Didn't find any though.
It wasn't until after my interpreter had to go, and I was waiting for my friends, that I somehow, finally, miraculously, ran into an ao dai that both had short sleeves and that I actually liked. The length of the dress itself was a bit longer than I had wanted but at least the sleeves were short. Black with red flowers and silk trousers. I liked it.
I was a bit scared when my language friend arrived and asked me how much I had paid for it. I thought it was fair. Not cheap but also not outrageous in any way. She didn't say too much though, maybe to shield me, but did comment something about the quality. We'll see I guess...
We got some ice tea from an ice tea place that my interpreter had said had really good teas. They had so many options that you got anxiety just having to choose! It was only for takeaway, so we went to Hoan Kiem lake, just 5 minutes' walk or so, and found a free bench where we could sit down and have them.
Maybe it's just that by this time, I had tried so many different milk teas, that I didn't feel any huge difference trying a new type. They still tasted good and it was usually the taste (or the bubbles) that I was going for but...they weren't as exotic or weird anymore. As if I couldn't be surprised anymore.
My friend had class, or some other appointment, I can't remember, so we didn't stay for too long. I had been messaging with the dance shop owner to ask if and when she'd be around if I wanted to get the shoes. I wanted to check them out but it was also so far away... Eventually, my friend gave me a ride that part of the way that she was going anyway. Dropped me off at a corner where I ordered a Grab.
'Chi oi!' I heard someone call by the corner. I had learnt by now, that that was an expression used to politely address a stranger who was either unknown, same age or older. I don't know why, maybe because I'm a tourist, I thought they couldn't possibly be talking to me. They were though. Turns out the Grab I had ordered was already standing at the corner. So I got right on.
I went inside the big building which even had a lobby with a receptionist, or guard, whatever you want to call the person... I showed him the address on my phone. He got up to show me to the elevators and pressed the button for me. 16th floor. Then left me to go up with some other people.
I found, what was indeed, the apartment. I had imagined...a shop. Like a normal shop. That you can window shop in. On the ground floor. Well, this is Vietnam so not quite.
The shop owner I had talked to at the festival came and opened the door when I sent her a picture of the door, asking if I was in the right place. This was her apartment indeed. Now I was starting to understand why she had said 'I'm home now, I'm not going anywhere today': Her home was the shop.
I walked in to a clean, albeit somewhat messy, modern apartment. The kitchen to the left. Right in front of me, a sofa and TV with a camera and umbrellas for lighting. I asked her if she was also a photographer but she told me that she lived with her brother and that her brother was a photographer. So it seems they were both running their businesses from home, literally; one having a photography studio, the other a shop for dance wear.
She showed me the shoes and it was only at this point that I realized that they were probably nicer than the ones she had originally let me try on and order. They were one size smaller than what I usually wear, but she had, at the festival, told me that most girls used one size smaller when it came to dance shoes. So I had listened, but I still felt uncertain.
I'll go ahead and admit that I messaged my French friend. Sent a picture to ask if they seemed to fit. He replied immediately. Asked some things, pointed out some things, explained some things.
'This is why I knew you'd be better at this than me!!' I told him. After having thought about it, and thanks to the guidance of my friend, I decided to take them. They weren't cheap, but still half the price, if not cheaper, than what similar shoes would have cost at home, so I really wanted them. And the model was nice. Nicer than most I had seen in Europe, or seen fellow dancers wear to socials at home.
I was tempted to look at some of all the other stuff she had, since I was there. How much would it cost and compared to home? Well, we don't have clothes like this at home at all, but I could imagine what they would cost if we would have them...
In the living room, she was playing bachata music and videos on the TV. There, she had a stand with full-body suits. She pointed out the ones she had in my size. Both were black. I always find it weird to look at the full-body suits. Feels like I could never ever wear one. Too...assertive? Yet at the same time, most of them just look like you're wearing sports wear, except instead of pants and a shirt, it's just one piece.
I was nevertheless curious and got to try them on. I could try them in the room where most of the clothes were, where there was also a mirror. She told me her brother wouldn't be home so I could relax.
I tried the body suits but didn't quite feel like they were right for me. Asked what all the stuff was that she had in the room. It was so stuffed with clothes and new deliveries that she hadn't sorted yet, so you kinda just had to ask as it was impossible to go through it by yourself. She showed me some pictures of some clothes that she had in my size, and I picked out a black dress that I thought looked cool. She also found a skirt for me. I tried both on.
I needed help getting the dress on and I think it took us two or even three attempts to put it on correctly. I guess I shouldn't be saying anything about assertive body suits because this was certainly quite an...assertive dress but wow. Gorgeous. I was tempted to get it.
Tried on the skirt as well. First a light blue one. Really nice. The nicest part about it was that it was adjustable on both sides, so you could have it long (to the knees ish) and be elegant, or have them short on both sides (casual), or long on one side and short on the other. So multifunctional! To top it all of, it had 'built-in' underwear. Or that's what she calls it, though I would perhaps rather just call it boxers. I'd probably still want to wear underwear underneath... But so that if you'd get lift up or turn really fast or whatever and the skirt would go up, you'd have boxers in the same colour as the skirt, so you wouldn't really notice any underwear underneath. The dress had that too actually.
I tried the black skirt and I was decisive I needed to get the skirt. I could probably even use it for zumba! I thought about which one to get but the shop owner convinced me, and rightly so, to get the blue one; it was more 'fun', unusual, popped more.
Lastly, I had to decide whether I was going to get the super fancy dress or not. I counted the cost and realized I didn't have enough cash for all three items. At the same time, how often would I be able to get something like this (and with built-in boxers?!) and at this price? Again, not cheap, but not much compared to what it would be at home. She said there wasn't an ATM close by. She did have PayPal though. So we decided I paid her what I had in cash, and then like another million VND via PayPal.
We sat down on a yoga mat in front of the TV while sorting out the payment. I could charge my phone meanwhile. I had probably spent an hour there or so already, having tried on all the clothes and messaging my friend about the shoes.
Once we had sorted the payment, I ordered a Grab to go back. She came with me downstairs so that if the driver would call me, like he did, she could speak to him and describe where to go.
I realized it would be smart to go home, take a shower...but I was also quite sad about not having found gifts for some people. So instead of going back to my apartment, I headed the direction I had come from by the Grab scooter, as I had seen some nice stores on the way. Didn't find anything suitable though, and ended up taking a round all the back to the Old Quarter. At some point told myself that I should stop thinking that every gift needed to be perfect and just get something. Not even that worked though.
In the end, I was running late for the street dance, hadn't had dinner yet, and still needed to go back and take a shower. I had only found one more gift and a new pair of elephant pants, as mine are from when I left for Africa (9 years ago now!) and I've spotted a small hole or two in them.
My French friend was late too. Something with the driver...so they weren't getting back to town until 9 ish. That's when the street dance would start, but I told him to calm down as I would also be late anyway. I also asked my Vietnamese friend if he would come. He said he didn't usually go on Mondays, and he was feeling quite tired after having gone dancing three days in a row, which he also didn't usually do, but he'd go if I was going. So I told him, or encouraged him to come. After all, it was my last night.
I hurried home, no time to pack, I'd have to do that when I got back, took a shower, and put on my new skirt. I didn't want to bring my dance shoes though since we'd be outside. I took a Grab to the park where the street dance was supposed to be. I had asked the dance shop owner about it and she said she hadn't tried it but she had heard that it should be decent. I didn't know what to expect in terms of attendance at a street dance on a Monday night...
I guess the nice thing about Vietnam, is that here, people actually show up at the right time and rather leave early. At home, people arrive late and stay until the end... So even though I had 'only' missed maybe the first half or full hour, there were quite a lot of people there. At home, it'd still be half empty. I was the first one of my friends to arrive though.
I didn't have any pocket, so my phone was in my backpack that I left on the park fence. People who weren't dancing were lined up on tiny plastic chairs along the fence, so, having been in Vietnam now for a month, I knew that I was safe to leave the bag and start dancing. In fact, that's how you can tell (newly arrived) tourists from locals and I suppose tourists who have stayed for longer; I saw a Western girl who was dancing with her backpack. I thought to myself that 'yeah, she doesn't know that she can leave it and it'd be fiiine'.
In the beginning, there were quite a few styles that I didn't know so I had to watch. I think one song may have been west coast, though I'm still not sure. There was another, later, when my friends had arrived, I can't remember the name of the style though, and I didn't know it until someone told me. My Vietnamese friend asked if I knew it, but I didn't, so he had to invite someone else up for it.
As the night progressed, it got more and more kizomba-focused with only a few bachata songs and very little salsa. My French friend and I did a crazy fast, super fun Cuban dance though. I did so many turns that I couldn't even tell if people were watching. After all, we were the only ones there doing Cuban - and it was just so brilliant. Lots of dancing. Such a great way to spend my last night in Hanoi. In Vietnam.
I think the social was supposed to go on until midnight but at 11.30 PM, a police car stopped at the corner and told us to go home I guess. A lot of people had left by this time already, but there were still quite a few of us left though. The locals convinced the police they'd break up the social and they drove away again. I think they could have continued, but they actually did stop the music and started packing up the speakers. My Vietnamese friend insisted on giving me a ride back to my place, which was well appreciated. So I talked a bit to my French friend, we made some plans to meet the next day after my appointment with my interpreter, and then my Vietnamese friend drove me back on my scooter. I thanked him for the ride, the nice times, the dinner the night before. People don't hug here, like at all, but I gave him a quick hug like I'm used to, for goodbyes.
I went to get a cold drink since I was both really thirsty and sort of hungry. I hadn't eaten a lot. A few skewers on the way back from the Old Quarter? And you get thirsty when dancing outside in 25 degrees without air conditioning! I had only had like half a bottle of water with me and I was completely out. I found what's equivalent to like a Vietnamese 7-11 store that was still open, and was going to order a bubble tea, but they were out. Ended up getting like a passion fruit slush ice/super cold drink instead. Insanely refreshing. Then walked back to my room to start packing.
I'm a slow packer. I had spent a lot of time trying to pack strategically, both so I would be able to fit as much as possible (though I had already decided which things to leave behind if I couldn't fit everything) but also so I could have the things I needed for my layover in Singapore easily accessible without having to dig up all my things. I had thought of packing what I needed in Singapore in my carry-on luggage for convenience and save time at the airport, not having to wait for the bag and check it in again in the morning, but there were just too many things, or too much of a bother rather, so I decided not do that.
Because of all this, I hadn't gone to sleep until...late. And I was meeting with my interpreter at 8.30 for another YouTube interview at 9. I woke up to the sound of my alarm around 7. I turned flight mode off, and noticed that my Vietnamese friend had written me like half an hour earlier, asking if I was awake, saying he wanted to invite me to breakfast.
I told him I wouldn't be able to as I was meeting my interpreter soon. I said we could possibly catch lunch instead but I couldn't promise anything as I didn't know how long I'd end up being with my interpreter.
I got dressed and finished packing the last things, my pajamas, toiletries, things I had used in the night or in the morning. I messaged my host to ask if I could leave my things until sometime in the afternoon when I'd go to the airport. My French friend had otherwise offered that I could leave the things in his hotel room.
Then my interpreter arrived. I had to go downstairs to open the metal gate for her. And I just realized I still haven't told you about the gates here...! My interpreter had a similar gate. And this type of gate was fairly common in Vietnam:
There's usually one locker on the gate (which is why you can't buzz people inside like you do at home), so people just put the locker on, on the side they're going. So if they're going inside, they leave it on the inside, if heading out, the leave it on the outside. Which means that, if you're coming back, and someone else locked it from the inside, you have to stick your hands through two holes, one in each metal door, and feel your way to/blindly open the locker that's on the other side of the gate. I often thought about what would happen if, while you're trying to open the locker on the other side, you accidentally drop the key... Then how are you supposed to get the key that's now on the floor inside? You'd be screwed. You'd have to wait for someone to come open it from the inside... Luckily, the 'key ring' on this key was one of those rubber hairbands, so I could keep the key around my wrist while trying to open the locker. Now that I was just opening for my interpreter, it obviously didn't matter as much if I dropped the key...
It was cloudy, and I was surprised at how cold it was outside. Good thing I hadn't packed my jacket, as I'd be needing it if the weather stayed like this.
The YouTube interviewer called us up but we were facing some technical problems. He asked us to do the call via phone instead of via her computer because otherwise he couldn't turn the camera without us lying on the side. Then there was something with the sound. After maybe 10 minutes or so, we got it to work. A few minutes into the interview though, someone called my interpreter. She hung up but the person kept calling. We're talking like five times or so! Eventually, she had to pick up, to tell the person to stop calling (or that she'd call back, I dunno), so the call with the interviewer obviously got interrupted.
After that, the technical problems were back. The sound wasn't good enough, the quality wasn't good enough. Everything looked fine on our side but apparently the sound was both lagging and there was an echo on the other side. We tired switching the WiFi off and going by hot spot on our phones. We tried calling back. We tried restarting both the phone and the computer. So did he. We were at it for about an hour - no kidding!
When we finally managed to get the sound and quality alright, there was an army airplane flying over our interviewer - apparently he was in a military zone for some reason. We couldn't hear anything on our side, but he said it was so loud that he could barely hear himself, let alone us. So we had to wait a few seconds while it passed.
A little while later, another military airplane flew over him. He told us that it was ironic because usually, the military planes only flew over once a week, but now there had already been two within just a few minutes.
Either way, if I can choose between spilled blue tea and technical problems, I'll probably rather go with the technical problems, which aren't visible in the interview anyway. So I'd still say this interview went better than the other one. He also asked some interesting questions I hadn't been asked before, like whether I had any birthmarks or other features that would distinguish me.
Because of the technical problems, we didn't finish until around 11. We decided she would hold onto all the copies we still hadn't used of my birth certificate, in case she'd need to send it off somewhere else. I walked her back downstairs and thanked her so very much for our time together and her incredible help and work. We'd stay in touch.
I messaged my Vietnamese friend and said I was free for lunch. However, my host had replied that I couldn't leave my bag, so I also told him I had to be back by 12. To be honest, I hadn't expected to see my Vietnamese friend again. Not this time around at least. There was a reason for why I had said such a 'long' goodbye the night before. But of course I couldn't help finding it kinda sweet that he wanted to see me again so I made time to see him, even though it'd only be for a short time. I would check out at 12 and take my bag.
He came to pick me up and took me to...I don't know if it was his favourite restaurant or just the favourite place serving that dish. It was noodles with something that looked...very strange. I didn't ask. Wasn't sure I wanted to know. I'd eat it first at least, then ask. It kinda looked like...the black part of bird poop? Like small, long black...things?
We went inside and he ordered for us. There was a huge menu on the wall and I took a picture that I planned on running through Google Translate after the meal. While we were waiting for the food though, he told me that it was eel. Rice noodles with eel. Even when I got it, I can't really tell if they were just fried or deep-fried but man, it was good! I could have easily had more eel in my noodles because the ratio of noodles were quite high...but the eel was like a bit crispy or even tough. Salty. Really nice. He had also ordered a few eel nem. You could definitely taste how they were distinct from...most other nems I had had. Not as good as the 'normal' and best nem, but definitely still good. It was just as if the eel was better suited for noodles.
It was my last chance to semi make up for dinner and ice cream and the ride, but it was out of the question that I pay. Even though I tried to make a deal of the fact that I'd be leaving and didn't even know when I'd get the chance to make it up to him. We sort of rushed back to my place since it was almost 12 already. We did our byes again - now there was even more things to thank him for! - and then I hurried inside.
I pressed the elevator button. Could hear someone sing inside. The doors opened immediately, and inside was the cleaner with the cleaning stuff, singing along to some music she had in her earplugs. 'Why would anyone wait in the elevator?' I thought to myself. It was a small one so...wouldn't the air get stuffy quickly? And there was a couch in the lobby, why wouldn't you just get comfortable there?
She told me I could leave the key with her, which I did, and then got my bags and left. Told my French friend I was getting going, and ordered a Grab. His hotel was close by if I had just been walking, but with two bags and humidity, I wanted a Grab.
He came downstairs to get me. He had a small room without any windows. I left my bags by the door and then we talked about what to do until I was leaving. He said I could take a shower or whatever, if I wanted, but we could also go for a milk tea, a walk, a massage... I know I said I had had too little time to use up all my six massages, but just the night before, I had actually been thinking to myself that it'd be really nice to try a new place, go for another massage. Maybe one of those head massages my flatmate from the Latin festival had talked about. Or just any massage. So yeah, I thought that sounded like a good idea.
So we headed out. I told my friend he might want to put some more clothes on as he was only wearing a t-shirt and shorts. He didn't believe me at first but when we got out in the hallway, he changed his mind and went back in for a hoodie.
We found a boba place where we ordered an ice tea each. It was one of the slightly 'fancier' places where you could decide if you wanted reduce sugar or ice and by how much (75%, 50%, 25% or none). We walked around the quarter for a bit before heading to a massage place close to the hotel that my friend had already tried a few days earlier. He told me we should probably knock a few thousand dong off the price on the menu; at least last time they had given him a discount. Right enough he was; the ladies inside noticed that we were checking out the menu and came out and offered us an even better price.
We decided and agreed that 45 minutes would be good in terms of when I needed to head to the airport so we went for a 45-minute upper body massage. We left our shoes outside, and were told to wait in the lobby in two armchairs.
It was a small lobby; a staircase so small in the corner it would perhaps rather be categorized as a ladder, a counter for paying towards the back of the wall and five armchairs along the wall. It was dimly lit but looked fairly cozy. We took the only armchairs that were available; the others were occupied by three Western female travellers getting their feet and hands done. While we were waiting, their...'masseuses'(?) came with a colour palette to ask which colour they wanted their nails to be painted.
We finished our drinks and talked while we waited. After maybe 10-15 minutes, they told us we could come upstairs. We went up the ladder ish things to the second floor where, just like when you come up a ladder, you have to be careful not to fall downstairs through the hole. There was an equally small space on the second floor, but along the wall, dark curtains divided the space into three 'rooms'. My friend got the space in the corner, I got the middle one. Then they closed the curtain between us and behind us so we could undress in peace.
Thank goodness they had closed the curtains, I thought. Clearly and thankfully, nobody was making assumptions that we were a couple or something like that. I found it kind of funny, ironic even, that I had never had a massage with anyone like a 'group activity' until just two days ago with my interpreter...and now I was already having another one with my friend!
The massage was both similar and different from the ones I had got at the other place. They did a few new tricks but they also did the finger snapping thing they had done at the other place and in Laos. No cracking though. Really good. So relaxing. It could have been a bit harder, but at the same time, it was just really relaxing this way. Now, I almost fell asleep.
We headed back to the hotel after the massage. I messaged my interpreter on the way, asked if she could ask her sister to book a cab to the airport for me, since she had such a good contact that she would get a small discount.
When we got back to the hotel, my friend realized he had forgotten his hoodie at the massage place. Blamed it on me since he never wore an extra layer here in Vietnam. I still had 15-20 minutes until I needed to get the cab, so I went back with him to get it. The massage place was only one minute away, if even that.
The hoodie was literally where he had left it; still untouched in the armchair where we had waited. On our way back, my interpreter replied and said she could book. Wrote again a few seconds later and asked if the price she had got was acceptable. I told her it was.
My friend was indecisive. He had meant to go to Ho Chi Minh City the day before but didn't know whether he should go now or the next day. His things were already packed, that is the few things he had. He had already paid for the room for one more night but the main point had been to have a place for the things, and it was so cheap anyway, it didn't even matter. So in the end, he decided to come with me to the airport. He could take an evening flight to HCM.
We went outside when it was time, where a car was already waiting. I messaged my interpreter to thank her once again for all her help, and for having got the cab for us. She messaged back, with the licence plate number, saying we should look out for this one.
'We're already in the cab...' I replied.
'Oh. But how do you know it's the right one?'
'...I don't think there are that many cars waiting outside where we were, and who were going to the airport,' I told her. He had already asked if we were going to the airport, and the price that had been agreed on, and asked which terminal we were going to. So I was sure it was correct.
'International,' I told him.
From the Old Quarter, it's quite a long drive to the airport, around 45 minutes, but it felt faster now that I had company.
Just like it had felt unreal finally going on this big trip, as if...the realization hadn't quite kicked in, I felt the same way now; that the fact that I was leaving, that it was over (for now), hadn't kicked in yet. I knew I was/should or would be sad...but I wasn't yet. Probably I would have been if I had been alone, but now having a friend by my side, somehow extended the 'adventure', the trip.
We got to the international terminal and I went to the check-in counter for Singapore Airlines. Asked if she could check me in all the way. She could. Asked if I could take my bag in Singapore. I couldn't. So now I started regretting not having packed what I needed in Singapore in my carry-on. I made a speed re-arrangement of my things so I would have my toothbrush and other essentials with me in Singapore. Only just remembered one of the boxes of beancake that I was going to give my friends in Singapore as a thanks for housing me. My backpack was pretty stuffed when I had repacked, and put the big backpack on the conveyor belt.
While I was waiting for the woman to issue my tickets, I noticed a brown box on the conveyor belt at the check-in counter next to me. It had a label on it, saying it was going to Iceland. Who...why...what?
I had forgotten to ask, but was happy to see, when I got the tickets, that she had placed me by the window on all three flights.
While I had checked in and packed, my friend had found some cheap tickets to Ho Chi Minh. He'd leave after me. We had time to catch early dinner together first though, as I was hungry. Pretty starving even. We went around to all the places they had outside the security check and I decided to go to a restaurant on the second floor that had pho. I thought to myself that it was ironic that the only pho I had had was the duck pho in the mountains in the north with my language friend. I had admittedly eaten a lot of bun cha instead but...how come I hadn't eaten more pho? Because I had had it so many times before? Because it wasn't new?
But oh, did I immediately regret not having had more pho as soon as the food arrived, because it was sooo good. Everything I've eaten on my trip has been pretty much heavenly so I guess I can't regret it because I don't know what I would have switched it for. I guess the only regret then is that you can't eat more often!
When it was time, my friend and I said goodbye, and I parted through security. Actually, I first had to go through border control. I had forgotten about border control; I wasn't just travelling in Schengen... It was slow, took me probably half an hour just to wait. At least security was fast though, but I still decided to make a run for the gate when I was finally through.
I saw that there already wasn't any line by the gate so I ran to the gate and showed my passport and boarding pass.
'We haven't opened for boarding yet,' the guy told me.
OK so...not 'already no line' but 'no line yet'... He must have seen the disappointment in my face because he added 'I saw you come running, sorry.'
Him having seen me run but for no reason definitely didn't make me feel any better...
I called up a friend for ten or so minutes while and since I needed to wait. Then they started boarding.
My thoughts? You can read my thoughts in my departure post that I wrote a while back.
It was so late in Singapore that I couldn't get a Grab. It always said there were no drivers available. I tried getting another app that my friend I was staying with told me about, but they required a Singaporean phone number to register. He said he could try booking for me, but he had also told me to check the 'regular taxis'. By that time, I had already waited half an hour or more, and I had gone upstairs, found a regular taxi and was heading to town, so I didn't see the message until I was already at his place.
The regular taxi accepted payment by card and turned out to be way cheaper than what Grab would have cost. Maybe that's not always the case, but I guess Grab works on a demand-basis so the price it had showed, in case they had found a driver, was really expensive because of the low availability. Around 63 SGD. I think the regular taxi cost me around 25.
'You must come from a very cold country...' the driver said when we had arrived.
'Oh, how can you tell?'
I was wearing my jacket and long pants since I was going home the next day - and because it had been cold in Hanoi. I figured, if I came (was) from a cold country, I would find Singapore extra hot and thus wear even less clothes than the locals. But as soon as I had let my question slip, I realized what he meant.
'Because you're wearing clothes for such a cold climate...!' he laughed.
'Right, well yes, I'm going to a really cold country,' I admitted.
My friend had already gone to sleep when I arrived. It was well past midnight. His wife was awake to open the door for me though, welcome me and ask how the trip had been. We chatted a short while before she also needed to head to sleep.
Completely regardless of their pet cat that had attacked me the previous time I had been there, I decided to rather take a shower in the morning as I was way to tired to do that now. I managed to brush my teeth without any conflict with the cat, and went to bed.
Bed. Because there were a lot of updates online. I had meant to quickly post my latest blog entry but got stalled with all kinds of other things: The YouTube interviews were up so I had received comments, e-mails and my interpreter had written to me. Another journalist had contacted me with questions. I had received an offer to do a job interview that they had originally said I couldn't do because I hadn't been available on the day they first proposed.
I ended up staying up for like two more hours or so - and that's still after prioritizing what could wait! So I wasn't going to sleep until 3, 3.30 ish AM. I tried to make myself feel better by telling myself that it was a good thing to stay up this late to get a head start to re-adapting to the time difference back home. It would be...around 8 or 9 PM at home so maybe I could get back into a routine quicker now that it would be my second night in a row going to sleep so late. But also my second night in a row with only four or so hours of sleep...
I had set my alarm to around 7 to make sure I could take that shower in the morning. I didn't hear anyone up at that time though, so I ended up staying in bed for a bit longer. Got up around 7.30 when I heard my friends were awake. They would be working from home that day, so in that sense, there was no rush.
After I had taken the shower, I talked a bit to my friends while we were having tea/coffee and some croissants they had thrown into the oven. Asked them about their holiday in Borneo. Asked me about my trip. I gave them one of the bean-cake boxes as a gift, but told them I had realized too late that I had both the tourist book and map about Singapore and another gift I had meant to give them was in the checked in luggage.
They said there had been a heat wave in Singapore for like the last two weeks or so. When I asked them what that meant in terms of how many degrees, they didn't quite know though. Just that 'you can just feel that it's even hotter than it's supposed to be'. Couldn't they have shared some of the heat with us in Vietnam...?
I ordered a Grab that arrived around 9 AM. My friends weren't too worried about the traffic as I was going in the 'right' direction compared to all the traffic. Indeed, the journey was quite smooth, and I was at the airport approximately one and a half hours prior to departure. Had time to use up most of my Singaporean dollars; they had a 'three for 25$' on the dried fish stuff I had bought last time. Yes please! One of the packages I got was a mix of dried tofu, dried fish skin and dried mushroom. Crispy dry mushroom. How come we're so into dried fish at home, and so many tech and start-up companies working with utilizing all parts of the fish yet nobody has come up with dried fish skin yet?!
Also, the food wasn't as exciting as it had been on the way to Vietnam. Maybe because I had spent a month in Vietnam eating delicious food for a month... Or maybe something to do with the breakfast not being as exciting as dinner.
I thought I'd only have two hours in Frankfurt but turns out I had miscalculated something and actually I had four hours to kill before my last flight. Usually, when I've been far away, like South America or Africa, I always get a slightly warm, fuzzy feeling arriving to the Nordic countries or sometimes even just arriving to Europe, to something more familiar. Like a 'home sweet home' feeling even though I'm not home yet.
I did not experience that when I landed in Frankfurt. Not at all.
Quite the opposite. I felt like something was off. Was wrong. Like I had taken the flight and landed in the wrong country, or I guess in the wrong continent. I didn't want to be there.
I've never felt that before. And yes, it made me...a bit sad. The feeling I had been 'looking' for or expecting in the taxi on the way to the airport in Hanoi was finally kicking in. If I hadn't had a job that I was really passionate about (and a weekend full of dance workshops ahead of me) back home, and I was a spontaneous, wild personality in some Hollywood film, I would have skipped out on work and just stayed in Vietnam. But that's not who I am. I had to go home, like it or not.
It's one thing to not want your holiday to end. Particularly when you haven't taken a break from work since before the pandemic. It's not quite the same when you feel a place calling you: I didn't mind going back to work. In fact, I was quite looking forward to seeing all my colleagues again, our inside jokes, heading to the gym during lunch break, getting cases of varying degrees of mystery...but I didn't want to do it at home. Could I not work from Vietnam?
When I was younger, I always said I wanted to stay and live in Vietnam (and China) for at least one year. After this trip, that desire certainly stands, and is even enhanced. Maybe one day...
I managed to sleep a bit on the flight from Frankfurt. Maybe 2 ish hours. Still, we landed around midnight local time. That meant 7 AM Vietnamese time. That meant I had two nights in a row with 4 ish hours of sleep and one day pretty much without any sleep. It was fair to say that I was tired.
Dad was at the airport to pick me up. Thank God.
I think I was too tired to feel anything when I opened the door to my apartment and stepped inside. I didn't feel happy or relieved to be home, but I also didn't feel...an 'aversion' to being home, like I had felt in Frankfurt. I just didn't feel anything. Only that I needed sleep.
Post-arrival
Some people around me had thought I'd take the first day home off work, but like I said, I was looking forward to seeing everyone... So I went straight to work the next morning after, again, around 4 hours of sleep, though I arrived a bit later than I usually do. The snow slowly disappeared as the day went on but it remained freezing.
I was jetlagged for at least 4-6 days, waking up at 4 AM on Saturday morning and not being able to fall back asleep. It probably didn't help that I was dancing like all night long all weekend, so one day I had been awake for 21 hours when finally going to sleep, and then woke up like 4-5 hours and couldn't fall asleep again. Yay.
I'm finishing this post one month and two days after getting home. Now that I'll finally have finished the blog, I can start going through my photos. I didn't even take the camera out of the bag yet and all the photos on the phone are unsorted so there's still a lot of work to be done before 'closing' on this trip.
Additionally, a few things have happened regarding the search since I returned:
For one, as I mentioned on Facebook, the journalist who I met in person, who had two journalists with her that were digging into my case, told me that the hospital had tried to get in touch with me. She said she thought they must have some new information since they want to get in touch.
I've asked how the hospital tried to get in touch with me, because I haven't heard anything from them, but I don't get any answer to this question. They say they have tried contacting the hospital but they're not getting answers from them. So I have no idea where this stands. It feels like everything is going in circles; me trying to get answers from the journalist who is trying to get answers from the hospital which is possibly trying to reach me. Though I told the journalist to tell the hospital to write me by e-mail or call my interpreter, since my Vietnamese number isn't in use anymore.
Secondly, I received a message from the first YouTube interviewer. He said 'I have probably found your mother'.
Whaaat?
To top it off, I saw this message when I was going home from work sometime past midnight so I didn't even really have time (or shall I say the energy) to look too much into it. But in short, he said a woman had called him, crying and sobbing, thanking him so much for having uploaded the video. A few days later, he uploaded another video with a short clip from my interview and then, what I assume, was a recording of the phone call with this woman alleging to be my biological mother.
I haven't listened to it because...well, I don't have anyone to interpret for me, but my interpreter told me that some details don't match, including my birth date. But according to the woman, the hospital may have 'fiddled' with some of the details. Hence [her] name and my birth date don't match with the account she is giving. According to her story, she also didn't give up her baby willingly, but was forced to by her mother. When she returned to the hospital to pick up the baby, it was gone.
Fair enough that her name doesn't match since that's not confirmed, but my birthrate...? And apparently also a few other details like how much I weighed at birth and maybe something else.
She's seen the picture of me from a few weeks after the birth, and the video of my adoption, and apparently she claims to recognize that I'm her baby. The YouTuber has sent a photo of her (now, I haven't seen what she looked like back then) but to be honest, neither my interpreter nor I see any similarities. Like sure, I could have all my looks from my biological father but...I guess with all the discrepancies in the information, you would at least want for there to be some similarity before getting your hopes up.
So in short, the YouTuber asked me to send hair and nail samples for a DNA test. I insisted it'd be much easier and faster to do it digitally, the way like all DNA comparisons are made these days, but he said he had contacted two DNA centres in Vietnam who both required both the samples themselves. So last Friday, I sent off some nails and hair samples (most awkward thing ever, I feel like, if the customs would open it, even though it says it's for a DNA test!). I don't really have any expectations that it's her but let her rule me out at least.
Can they be trusted with my DNA? I don't know. Time will tell.
Besides the search, I've been ridiculously busy since I got back to say the least. Crazy much to do and going on at work, with family, with private life, with dancing...that I can hardly say I've had the time to 'digest' the whole experience. All I know is that I miss Vietnam and the friends I made there, the food and the scooters like heck. Daydreaming of when I can go back...but in the meantime, life goes on. I have other (shorter) trips planned ahead and probably won't make it back to Vietnam until I hear news from the Ministry of Justice or the hospital that can give me some concrete and confirmed information about my biological mother or her background so I at least know what on earth to look for... Unless I don't hear anything, in which case I'll probably still return some day just to visit.
Anyway. This was it for now. Thank you to all for reading, whether you read everything or just bits and pieces. Either way, I'm always really happy to hear when someone's read something so feel free to give me a shout-out. Stay tuned for updates on when the next journey will be!