Hanoi Touchdown

The flight transfer at Kuala Lumpur was the first time we heard or saw any Vietnamese people on our journey.  As we waited to board we speculated that they were mainly business people or part of the new wealthy middle class who could now afford to travel.

We touched down to a rain drizzled Hanoi, it was the monsoon in the north and we were coming into the rainy season.  I watched the misty paddy fields pass below on our approach and felt a sense of excitement, longing and apprehension.  My emotions were mixed because although I was finally back, I knew deep down that I would not really be home until I reached my family in Qui Nhon and Binh Dinh province.

The apprehension came of knowing that we were coming into the former capital of North Vietnam.  How would people treat us being overseas Vietnamese (the term people in Vietnam use is 'Việt Kiều') plus the fact that we speak Vietnamese with a southern accent.

In Vietnam's turbulent past, including when the country was divided into North and South as agreed in the Geneva Accords of 1954, there has been a history of mutual distrust between the regions.  At that time the North would be run under a c*mmunist admi*istration whilst the South was to be essentially a dem*cratic rep*blic.  People decided and moved across the border in either direction but the greatest migration was from north to south.

I couldn't help wondering how people would react to us.  However, a more pressing concern was whether our shoddy looking pre-approved visa letter would get us past immigration.

We found the pre-approved visa office, handed in the letter, our entry application forms and passports and joined the queue of tourists on the other side of the office to await the results of the checking process.  If the company I used had done their job, the office would already have a copy of our letter for them to match and barring anything else it was just a matter of paying the $45 for each three month visa.

My worries were unfounded as we were presently called up to the counter.  The official asked me in Vietnamese for the money (he'd seen the place of birth in my passport) and I feigned incomprehension (my dad had told us to speak only English with any officials for fear of any further questioning).  He asked for ninety dollars, this time in English and we paid up and promptly left.