As we walked to the baggage claim area, Aimee and I placed our wagers on the likelihood of three bags with handwritten labels making their way around the world after four plane changes, two Tokyo airports, and one emergency landing. But after about 10 nervous minutes of watching other people leave with their bags, we saw a familiar red tag. And a few minutes later, two more. Mimi got her diapers back!
The rest of the process was a relative breeze. We showed our passports to the immigration agent, who reviewed our prearranged visas. About a month ago, we mailed our passports to the Vietnam Embassy in Washington, whose staff reviewed our documentation and placed a pretty cool souvenir on one of the pages. My counterpart in Vietnam also needed to submit my medical license and a few other pieces of information to verify my legitimacy. Vietnam is known to have an above average suspicion of foreign workers, and with their history, you can't blame them.
We then hopped in the van that was waiting for us, and cruised through the early morning streets of Ho Chi Minh City. There was a surprising amount of activity: shopkeepers opening up, street sweepers cleaning, moped delivery drivers with all sorts of cargo, and elderly women on bicycles heading to where they'll be serving breakfast soup to people on their way to work.
Our hotel was in the city center, and we began to fully appreciate the luxury as we pulled up. Crystal chandelier, a fleet of porters grabbing our luggage, well-educated and well-dressed check-in staff. The works. When we made the reservation, Aimee and I correctly predicted that we would enjoy a bit of refined comfort after that journey, and we weren't even factoring in the diverted flight. But before you start judging us, I've spent more money at a Best Western than I did on this hotel. I already love this country.
By the time we got settled in, it was approaching 6am. Thus, the jet lag paradox. Do we muscle through the day, get a great night of sleep and hard-reset our sleep clocks, or do we sleep all day (like our bodies were craving), and take longer to switch to the new time zone? We settled on a two hour nap that felt like four days.
We knew that we had to leave our hotel room as soon as we woke up, or else we really would be sleeping for four days. Going out for a coffee seemed like an obvious choice.
Vietnam has a well deserved reputation for amazing coffee, and we'll second that. It's absolutely amazing. The standard order is a cà phê sữa, or milk coffee. It's Vietnamese-grown coffee brewed with a type of pour over device that sits on your cup. While you spend time chatting with friends or chasing down your nine month old, the coffee drips right into your glass. The sữa part is key. Already in your glass is a tablespoon of sweet condensed milk, and the resulting drink is a true delicacy. Aimee and I are beyond hooked.
Immediately following that photo was the first of many, many times a stranger has reached out to hold our baby. This country has some serious baby fever. And a foreign baby is a special bonus. Strangers on the other side of the street have braved motor bikes and taxis to fawn over our daughter. We have to build in time for cooing whenever we're figuring out how long it will take to walk places.
The process is similar. The hotel employee/police officer/taxi driver/old lady/food vendor/passing motorbike driver will go, "Ahh! Bay-Bay!", make two small claps, and put out their hands as if Mimi should crawl into them. Pause. Two claps. Hands out. "Bay-Bay!" Repeat. We haven't quite figured out if they actually want us to hand over our baby, or if that's just a sign of affection. We generally err on the side of affection, although I did pass our baby over to the coffee shop owner above. The "Oh, Myles" and look that Aimee shot my way have made me reconsider future baby-passing opportunities.
My parents have become friends with the owner of a Vietnamese restaurant near their house, and the first thing she said to us when we told her that we were going to Vietnam was, "They will take your baby." Just a matter-of-fact statement that rings true every 3-4 minutes when we're out in public.
The only scheduled activity that we had that day was a doctor's appointment, of all things. Working in healthcare, Aimee and I have most of the vaccines reccomended for travelers to Vietnam. But we weren't protected against Japanese encephalitis, a rare but serious brain infection related to West Nile and Dengue Fever. Like its two cousins, JE is spread by mosquito bites, but unlike those two, there is a very effective vaccine against it. However, the vaccine is the US is slightly less protective than the one used in the rest of the world (since it's rarely used in the US, the manufacturer hasn't had any financial incentive to apply for US FDA approval of the improved version). Plus, the sub-par US version costs $3,200 a person, and this isn't something that insurance pays for. So I did a bit of homework, and found a reputable medical clinic that caters to expats. I confirmed that they had the new vaccine, and made appointments for Aimee and I. Children in Asia get the vaccine at 12 months, so I figured we'd stick to their schedule for Mimi. So Mimi just got to watch mom and dad get the shots for once.
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| Mimi reading to Aimee and telling her that the shot will only hurt for a second. She also offered to take Aimee out for ice cream afterwards. |
