Earlier this year I went to Vietnam on vacation. Most days were nothing short of an adventure that I wanted documented, so I could come back and (hopefully) laugh at it. But I gotta admit, some days were so adventurous that on one of the days, I actually prayed like Kareena Kapoor from Jab We Met.
Kareena Kapoor praying to a higher power saying, “No more excitement / adventure tonight, please! PLEASE make this night boring!”
Right from the moment I landed I have either lost precious items, made rookie mistakes or quite simply paid a price for mistakes that weren’t even mine. Let’s start from the top.
We’re going to call this adventure series “What the Pho, Rosh!” because ‘when in Vietnam?’
When I landed in Hanoi, Vietnam, I thought my first mini-adventure was losing a precious piece of earring that I had bought from a beach trip and worn just once. I lost it during the plane ride from Bangalore to Hanoi, and almost ended up filling the Lost & Found complaint form with the airline till I saw the line at the Immigration. It was like I entered the Tirupathi of Vietnam. 👀
(Yes, in hindsight, it’s a bad idea to wear a piece of jewellery that is precious to you while all you plan to do is sleep in the flight. I know now.)
I was so wrong about it being a mini-adventure. So much had happened since, that I would probably just categorize losing that beautiful jewelry as an omen for all that was to come.
My first real adventure hit me when I so confidently sat in Bus No. 90 that would take me from the airport to my Airbnb. I had a smug smile on my face as I thought to myself “I have read all the instructions! I am going to travel like a local…”
“THIKET”
…the conductor interrupted my (bus of?) thought by waving what looked like a credit card machine in his hand. It was not. It was ticket issuing machine and that’s it. My Forex card was rejected the instant I took it out of my wallet. “Cash only” is what he wanted to say when he took out a stack of VND (Vietnamese đồng) and waved it at my face. “One minute” I said, lifting my index finger up in case he didn’t understand, and started searching my bag for my wallet. And then, my luggage and then, my carry on. Oh hell..
Yep - my wallet was missing.
But unsuspecting Rosh from that day did not know that. Because she had a 6-page checklist that she had meticulously made, used it to pack for her Vietnam trip which included her wallet. And every item inside the wallet had not only made it to the checklist but also had all been checked off, TWICE!!! Which meant her wallet had to be inside the suitcase OR her backpack OR her mini-backpack - the only pieces of baggage she carried.
So, I frantically began searching both of them when it yielded no result. My wallet, which had just enough VND for a bus ride and a meal, was missing.
I fortunately had my Forex card and some dollars in hand thanks to my mini-backpack. But I was over-confident and hadn’t gotten my money exchanged at the airport, because I knew from my “research” (read: reddit and a good friend’s advice) that USD is worth more in the Gold shops of Hanoi than at the Noi Bai Airport. This pettiness would cause me to endure two hours of silent embarrassment while sitting in the bus, as a kind Vietnamese stranger would offer to pay for my ticket and assure me that it’s okay. I knew it wasn’t okay, I knew I’d messed up. But I obviously couldn’t tell him that. I just thanked him profusely and began wondering what to do.
I did the second best thing I could. I called my mum.
(Guesses for what would have been the first best thing are accepted in the comments. Brownie points for guessing why I didn’t choose that.)
The minute she answered, without even pausing to respond to her chirpy “Good morning, dear! How’s Vietnam?”, I asked her in one breath (and quite sternly, in retrospect :/ ) “Ma, will you be going to my house today? I cannot find my wallet. I need you to check my house.” Instantly, the quiet panic reflected in my mum’s voice, too “Yenna da…” she trailed and whispered at the same time, which would have been an endearing way of saying “What the hell, Rosh?” if the whisper did not make it scarier and embarrassing than it already was.
I quickly interjected her and said “I have my passport and my forex. DO NOT WORRY….” with as much emphasis and emotion as I could place in those three words. “But my important ID cards and INR are inside my wallet. I cannot find it in my bag. Can you please look for it in the house? Please? I just need some peace of mind”. That seemed to calm her a bit “Oh okay, so you have the dollars? I will get it checked. Did you eat something, do you need me to send money to you?” she enquired caringly, in the typical, parental, “I need to ensure my child’s wellbeing” mode. I assured her that I was fine and getting to the Airbnb. But as soon as I hung up, I admitted the truth to myself. I was not okay and what I did wasn’t okay, either.
Even the kind stranger assured me stoically when he paid for my ticket, “It’s okay, it’s okay”. But none of it felt okay. So I just sat with that discomfort for the next hour and a half.
When the bus conductor handed the ticket to me I tried to read what it said - “15,000 VND” it read, along with the name of the last station. I quickly tried to calculate what the equivalent in INR is - “52.22” Google said. “Okay, I would also do the same to someone in Bangalore if it cost just that much… I would, right?”
My mind was racing. A part of me tried to attach a monetary value to that kindness, a part of it tried to trivialize the gesture simultaneously. Another part began thinking back to a time when I had done a good deed just like this to a stranger from outside the country. It was almost as if I was trying to find reasons to feel like I was a rightful recipient of this kindness. (Relatable?)
After what seemed like fifteen minutes of this anxious thought-loop, I heaved a big sigh. “It’s okay”, I told myself as I continued to look out of the window. “You will find your wallet” even though all of me would not believe these words of reassurance. I didn’t want my people thinking that I couldn’t “take care” of myself as a solo traveller in Vietnam. Sigh.
