A warm welcome from the Vietnamese customs officials

Its been only a day since my last blog, but I had promised you the harrowing tale of my arrival in Hanoi, and I like to deliver on my promises.

Flight was ok - had a stop in Guangzhou - nothing of note to comment on.

I arrived at Hanoi airport at about 10pm, and expected to get through problem free. I was mistaken.

They initially gave everyone a bizarre health questionnaire, which I filled in and handed to the appropriate authority. Then they took everyone's temperature, using an in-ear thermometer. I have no idea what would have had happened had I been running a temperature, but fortunately, I wasn't.

Anyway, I got to the customs, desk, handed my passport and experienced a slightly longer wait than most people. No problem, I thought. Then the customs official asked my why I had a British passport if I was Indian - I patiently tried to explain that I had spent my whole life in England, and that my parents had been in England for the best part of forty years. This didn't seem to get through to him, and he called a couple of his friends over. It didn't help that they spoke heavily accented, broken English, and that I knew no Vietnamese whatsoever.

I admit that some of this ordeal was partially my fault - I had (due to a miscalculation of my dates) had to get two Vietnamese visas, and this did somewhat confuse them. I tried to explain simply enough, that I had miscalculated my dates, and had to get a second visa because of this.

This led to the most harrowing part of the ordeal: yet more Vietnamese customs officials came along, and they started commenting on how the photo looked nothing like me (admittedly, I had a shaven head then, and now have a full head of hair), and I attempted to explain that my hair could grow in 3 years - it didn't have to remain the same! They then claimed that my passport was a forgery. At this point, I wanted to shout that I was a British citizen, that both the Chinese and Indian governments had verified this passport as real, and what right did this tinpot country have to question my passport. I didn't though, and just shook my head worriedly.

They then went off, WITH MY PASSPORT, to consult with each other for half an hour, and I was left sitting in an empty Vietnamese airport, wondering if I'd have to spend the night in a Vietnamese cell through no fault of my own.

They did come back, and eventually acknowledged that my passport was real, and that I was free to go.

All in all, its a horrible experience to be harrassed by government officials, when you're alone, don't speak the local language.


Hopefully the only way is up from here.


Nihal