Dragon Diaries #20 – The Long Journey Home

Preface

This will be the last edition of the Dragon Diaries. Created in 2020 as a way to share the difficulties we experienced with living in Vietnam during the pandemic, one of the worst typhoon seasons Vietnam has seen in generations, and our ultimate struggles with returning to the US for me and going for the first time as far as the girls and Diem are concerned. That journey is now complete. The Constant Epicurean will go on, and maybe other limited series may evolve out of that. But Dragon Diaries shall end on its 20th edition. Almost two years after its first. It’s been a wild adventure and a chapter of my life that I will never forget. Thank you to everyone who helped along the way, read the articles, or was a part of the experience. Cheers to another chapter in life. Thank you, especially to my wife, Diem, for putting up with me in the many scenarios I wanted to explode. So without further pomp or circumstance, I give you The final edition of the Dragon Diaries – The Long Journey Home.

Returning from Saigon

If I were to tell you every issue or problem we have had to get home to the US, it would take far longer than I have. After returning from HCMC to our apartment in Da Nang, what we thought would be a 7-day quarantine, turned into 14. Only those fully vaccinated received the privilege of 7 days. I had some great adventures in Saigon on that trip. I just haven’t had time to put that article together, but it’s coming. Our visas for passage to the US arrived almost immediately after quarantine ended. So, it was a short trip home. We purchased our tickets back to Saigon, and we left Da Nang, our home for most of the past three years, almost as quickly as we returned.

The hardest part was leaving Fozzie behind. A 12-month ban on bringing dogs into the US went into effect in June or July. So he will, unfortunately, be staying with family until we return. It was very heartbreaking for the girls. And for me too. We will be back for you, little buddy. We scrambled to say our goodbyes. Everything moved so quickly it was hard to breathe at times. Dinners and coffee with family and friends, making sure there were zero mistakes on visas, ticket information, emptying an apartment and city we called home for three years on a few day’s notice. But the time had come.

Last pictures and trip to the sea

So many to say goodbye to

Quan!

The Shop

We threw a going-away party at the shop. People just came and went. Karaoke, lots of food and drinks. It was our second to last night in Da Nang.

Some incredible old friends

We couldn’t leave without heading north to our old penthouse apartment to say goodbye to our wonderful friends and old landlords. We hunkered down through many a typhoon and a couple of lockdowns. They had become exceptional friends.

Shopping and testing

A surprising invitation

To preface this, and I know it will not be easy as I have dealt with it for the past two years, but Su and Su’s father’s family invited us to dinner on our last night. I have a very cordial relationship with their father. But, his family at times had made things difficult for us and have not always been friendly. But on our last night in Da Nang, we broke bread together. And everything changed.

Fozzie

To Saigon

We made our way to the airport for Saigon. It was more overwhelming than I expected when we crossed the Dragon bridge for the last time. We would need to get tested in Saigon as well as some final vaccines for immigration to school in Georgia. We were to stay with my other brother and his wife in Saigon until we left. But we received a call as we were checking in for our flight to Saigon that she had just tested positive for Covid. So we left Da Nang with nowhere to stay. I booked a few Airbnb’s but was continually getting cancelations due to Covid. I was beginning to wonder if something sinister was brewing in Saigon, so I consulted some friends who live there. They were not aware of anything. No new outbreaks or anything. Just a little bad luck I guess.

We found a hotel room a mile from the airport, and it seemed a good place to hunker down before our flight. It wasn’t the classiest place—a television with an antenna and three fuzzy channels, no refrigerator, and one electrical outlet. But, the people were very friendly, and it was primarily for people with long layovers as it was 500 yards from the runway. It had been a long couple of days already with last-minute testing to get to Saigon and scrambling to find a place to stay. We took the first night in Saigon easy two days before our flight PCR tests and some minor details to wrap up. It was an early night. Let’s not make things as difficult as possible.

Final preperations

Monday again was light. We booked our test appointments, made sure everything was ready to go. I checked our itinerary to confirm the discount we received for the PCR tests at the US-approved clinic. All four of us flew from Da Nang to Saigon for 60 USD, PCR tests included. But the US would only accept tests from a specific clinic, and the airlines would not cover them. $150 per test. Tell me that’s not a racket. When I collected the ticket information for the $50 discount, our flight was canceled. Panic immediately set in. We called our travel agent, and Qatar withdrew our tickets because none of us are “fully” vaccinated, and you can no longer enter the US unvaccinated. Unless, of course, you are a citizen, legal resident or, an immigrant. Vaccines weren’t exactly falling out of the sky, and acquiring them in Da Nang had been impossible.

Our tickets were booked together, and Qatar only had the girl’s passports on file, so all of our tickets were automatically canceled. So we had to submit the visas to prove that they were immigrants, and we eventually were able to rebook the exact tickets for an additional $300. It just doesn’t stop. It delayed our ability to book tests, and we could only get in the last appointment spot late Tuesday. Since we are not vaccinated, our sample can be no more than one calendar day old. So a sample that is taken on Tuesday is good until midnight Wednesday. Our flight takes off at 11:30 pm Wednesday. Let’s say the stress is through the roof.

It gets better

Qatar later had further issues because technically, when we boarded the second flight for Atlanta, the sample would be more than a calendar day old and didn’t allow us the direct connection. So the Qatar agent tried to hold us until a second sample was collected in Doha, which would cause us to miss our connection flight, and the next flight was a hopper to Chicago, JFK, then Atlanta. But after going through the CDC guidelines with a fine-tooth comb and arguing my point with Doha, I found some answers.

The directive clearly states that a sample once you are boarded on the first leg is valid through the duration of the itinerary unless the layover is longer than 24 hours or you leave the airport. We fall in neither of those categories. Flight still on. Additionally, I was concerned that the flight was at 11:30, and midnight was the cutoff for our boarding. Still, the CDC also says if the flight is delayed by the airline, the test is acceptable for an additional 24 hours and 48 if the connecting flight is delayed. So all bases are covered. Hopefully, we won’t have any further issues.

Saying goodbye to who you can

After another stressful day of figuring everything out, some cousins and our youngest brother came over for dinner. I ordered from one of my excellent friend’s restaurants that I now eat every time I’m in Saigon. It just hits the American food craving. I must say I was very impressed with how the food arrived. I had ordered a buffalo chicken sandwich with homemade jalapeno peppers and onion rings. Everything was separated. And I mean everything. The lettuce, tomato, sauces, toasted bun. Everything. I had to do a bit of final assembly, but it made all the difference. The bun was still lovely and toasted, fried foods crispy, and the lettuce and tomato crisp and fresh.

A helpless moment

The following morning was testing and vaccines. Raffles medical was the only hospital in Saigon that would do the discounted PCR tests for Qatar, so that was where we went. It was a well-staffed, friendly hospital. Nicer than most I’d been through in Southeast Asia, and the testing area was set up outside. I was not prepared for the intensity of the tests. I had had so many tests in Vietnam over the past two years, probably a hundred. But this was the next level. I went first. Multiple samples had to be taken for the CDC guidelines, and there was nothing pleasant about it. A doctor could only administer them, and his nurse stood by his side as he performed them. An incredibly deep nasal swab, followed by deep throat swabs on both sides of the mouth. He took his time. The duration was probably twice as long as any I had had, being careful to drill a hole through to my sphenoidal sinus.

I knew this wouldn’t end well as Diem did her run, and it eventually became Xu’s turn. She has had a few tests of her own, but they get more challenging to perform each time, and this one would be the worst, and the doctor would not show mercy. We were not allowed in the testing tent, and I could see in barely as the nurse, and a technician swarmed on her blocking my view. They held her down, and I heard a slight cough and then a bool curdling scream. We were helpless to stop the brutal interaction. If we wanted to go home, it was the only way. Comfort after the fact was her only option.

More fun

After the tests were complete, we headed to the clinic for final immigration vaccinations. We had half done on our visit to the consulate last month, but they couldn’t give them all at once so we were instructed to return with our vaccine records on our way out for the previous round. The papers would be our appointment. We arrived at the clinic, but the guard on duty was a, well, asshole. Even though we were instructed that we would not need one, we had no appointment, and Diem got into quite an animated argument with the gentleman. But he merely looked away and waved her off. We would have to wait until the clinic was cleared, and we would be allowed in to finish the vaccines. Wonderful. In the case of not upsetting the foreigner, the guard saw Diem walk back to me with the children on the sidewalk.

He called her a few minutes later. Sometimes it’s good to be an American. No, it’s always good to be an American. We do stupid $h1t sometimes. The vaccines went relatively smoothly, only this time they didn’t accept bank cards, weird, so Diem had to run down the street in the coming rain to the bank.

Our final night and morning in Vietnam

After everything was done and we finally made it home, we let the girls decide on dinner. They wanted my friend James’ Brick and Barrell. Suites me. We grabbed a cab and made our way a few miles downtown for pizza, wings, french fries, and all the glorious American food with which we were about to be overwhelmed. Our brother joined us, and it was nice to get to say goodbye to James and Tyler. We will meet my friends again. Of course, I took some time to check out the kitchen and sit with James, and chat. We met Tyler’s brand new bouncing baby and just had a great evening of fellowship. But, our time was coming to an end, and the night could not last forever.

We made our way home and called it a relatively early night. In the morning, we ordered what would be my last banh mi in Vietnam for the foreseeable future. Except for some experimenting in opening borders, it will probably be a one-way road for some time. Maybe years before Vietnam reopens fully. Right now, out is the only way, and even it isn’t easy. We collected our test results from the hospital. We were all cleared for travel. I wanted to take no chances, so I tried to get to the airport early. Our flight wasn’t until 11:30 pm, but I received notice that it would be delayed past midnight on our app. It gave me some concern about our tests. Even though the CDC stated delays would not affect travel, everyone between check-in and boarding had to understand that. I wanted to be at the gate and past immigration and security long before the flight.

The Airport

We arrived at the international terminal at about 4 in the afternoon. But it was closed until 8 pm. With so few flights out of Vietnam these days, they clustered them between 9:30 pm and 1 am. But the domestic terminal was open as domestic flights are still flying all over Vietnam. So we stored our luggage with some guards at the entrance, walked to the domestic airport, and found an open coffee shop. Unfortunately, the coffee shop closed at 6, so we walked back to the international terminal, where a crowd had gathered waiting to enter. The airport had primarily been closed for so long. It looked like a post-apocalyptic scene. Eateries were shuttered with black trash bags covering their equipment, and spiders had taken shop over the screens of the still lit ATM’s that dotted the terminal. It was weird.

As night fell, our family in Saigon all gathered at the entrance to say goodbye. The terminal was dark, and not a check-in stall was open. Of course, online check-in was disabled due to the Covid requirements to enter the US. We had to go through formal check-in. We said our goodbyes, our entire lives in four checked boxes and a few carry-ons. At 8 pm, as promised, the doors opened, and the lights came on. Only passengers were allowed in the doors, and it was where our last goodbyes were said. We entered the airport and made our way to the Qatar counter.

It never stops

An attendant was going through the line ahead of the counter, checking paperwork. My passport was scrutinized, and we were pulled out of line. Even though I have a Vietnamese spousal Visa waiver, I was still in Vietnam technically on a tourist visa. But we had been very adamant about contacting immigration in Da Nang, and they assured me there would be no issues with exiting. No overstay penalties, no hassles. They had been very generous to me. But, the immigration officers didn’t know that, and the attendant saw the unstamped spousal visa waiver and a stamped tourist visa that had expired two years ago. They tried to extort money from us, but we had proof, and after some discussion and phone calls, I guess they let us go, and the attendant moved us to the front of the line.

We had more trouble with immigration. The immigration officer did not want to let Diem through. In tow, I, with Xu, and Su, were assured through without incident and even forced out of earshot towards security away from immigration. He was the only booth open, and he held Diem so long that they began opening other booths to get people through. I tried to maintain my composure, but I just wanted to scream. She eventually walked towards us with all of our passports stamped out. Security was nothing. The hard work was finally over.

The first flight

Our plane pulled up to the gate, and reality began to sink in. We were going home. We boarded a mixed bag of emotions – sadness, joy, and a heavy burden lifted. The wheels left the ground at around 12:15 pm. It would be eight and a half hours across southeast Asia, India, and into the Middle East. I don’t sleep well on planes these days. I used to, but it gets more complicated as I get older, but I had no problem on this one. None of us did. We had six seats for the 4 of us to stretch out a little. Drink service commenced shortly after takeoff. I ordered a scotch and a beer. The next thing I remember was opening my eyes over the Gulf of Oman. An hour to Doha.

It was just before sunrise as we touched down in Doha. We barely made it through the first security check before the Fajr prayer, the Islamic prayer of dawn, came over the speakers in the airport. Dawn was rising over the Persian Gulf. I think Doha was when reality sank in for Diem. She had never visited the West. And though Doha is technically still in Asia, the airport embodies the capitalistic West. Duty-free Lambourghini’s, Gold shops, stores dedicated to the finest brands the world has to offer, and she was mesmerized. Hammad International is known as one of the most luxurious international terminals globally. It’s a city clad in gold, silver, and all that is precious to man. There is a high bar to set before we have even made it to the US.

Leg two

After calling everyone and letting them know we were in Doha or Facebooking it, we made our way to the international food court. We ordered fried rice, stir-fried noodles, and sesame like Korean Fried chicken. With drinks, the bill was a sticker shocking $43. I haven’t paid more than $10 for four people in a very long time. All security checkpoints were OK. To enter the US, you have to get through several. It’s been that way for a decade now. As always, Hammad international is clean, courteous, professional, and top-notch in the world. There’s no airport like it. We made the gate about an hour before the flight. As the sun climbed high into the Middle Eastern sky, wheels were up around 8:30 am local time—sixteen and a half hours to Atlanta.

This flight was much tighter than the previous one. The same plane, just loaded as much as Covid would allow. It was a smaller plane than I’m used to flying on this leg. Typically it is three rows of four. This flight was three of three. I sat behind Diem and the girls, and there was always a seat between non-family members. Diem and I took turns sitting with the girls to let each other rest. As the sun had already risen before we took off, we chased it west, so we never saw darkness again until long after landing in Atlanta. It was a typical flight. Brunch, beverage service, a movie snack, lunch, another snack, and dinner about two hours before we landed.

Atlanta

We landed almost an hour and a half early. I was not complaining, and we disembarked the plane to find immigration and customs nearly empty. It was Thanksgiving, and we had so much to be thankful for. We had zero problems with immigration. They gave me a packet on enrolling the kids in school, a packet to Diem about coming to the US for the first time. It was just so refreshing to be welcomed home without being probed, prodded, or scrutinized. We were through customs and immigration in 20 minutes. Our baggage was a different story. It took 30 more minutes to make its way through the maze and to our carousel. Finally, we grabbed our life and made our way to the exit. It had been so long since I had crossed that red line and was officially back in the US. I wasn’t sure it would ever happen again.

Even on Thanksgiving day, a gang was waiting in the airport for us. An excellent welcoming home for sure. We loaded up everything in my father’s truck and headed home to Thanksgiving dinner at my parents. The girls had never seen so many cars or such large highways and were very curious about where all the motorbikes were. It is now the beginning of yet another chapter of life. A world of discovery, adventures, amazement, and curiosity. Only this time, I’ll be writing as the watcher. The observer of childish wonder and awe. Very much as I felt long ago when I stepped into a beautiful new and fantastic world on the other side of the globe.

For the complete Dragon Diaries, click here.