Arrival From Hell – December 8, 2019
My first stopover after being kicked out of Australia landed me in Bali. An airport I’ve been a bunch of times over the past two and half years. This time though, my baggage is waltzing along the carousel as my eyes beeline for the drink bottle holder where my right sneaker once was fastened. Queen’s “Another one bites the dust” record, starts spinning in my head. It’s annoying, but I was planning on buying new sneakers once I get to America in a few weeks anyway, so it’s not the end of the world. I guess I’ll just have to purchase a Vietnamese special instead.
My second stop over, was in Kuala Lumpur. A place I’ve had an irrational fear of transferring in ever since 2014 when Malaysia Airlines flight 370 disappeared after departing Kuala Lumpur airport. Then only 4 months later Malaysia Airlines flight 17 was shot down. But lo and behold I find myself facing another one of my irrational fears and living to tell the tale.
It’s 10:00 AM and I finally land in Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam; my final destination, after 18 hours of travel. I make my way to baggage claim. I’m waiting. And waiting. And w.a.i.t.i.n.g… It’s taking FOREVER to receive my luggage. I’m getting impatient but keeping myself occupied by starring obsessively at my new gorgeous ring Tom bought me at the airport before we said goodbye. Finally, I see that overstuffed backpack spinning round and heading toward me. “What the hell!” My bag is completely opened in multiple places and my clothes scattered around the belt. It looks as though someone had gone through my bag and broke the draw string at the top in the process. I am so not happy! I’m still so exhausted from traveling and crying many of the last 18 hours and this is extremely low on the totem pole of things I want to be dealing with. “Why is this happening?” I think as I stuff my clothes back in the bag as quickly as I can. My shorts and shirts are getting further away from me each second that passes as the belt continues to turn. Something that’s probably pretty comical to watch, but not so much to be the one it’s happening to.
I head to the baggage claim information desk to make a damage claim. With the language barrier, it’s not easy and I’m already so annoyed that my bag is broken just as I’m about to start months of traveling. The baggage claims attendant gets the information he needs and inspects the bag. He makes some calls, then informs me that they wont do anything about my broken bag because it’s only a little piece. Despite the fact that that little piece is what holds ALL of my clothes inside! “Oh my god!” I screech interrupting the baggage claim agent as he is discussing this news with me. “My ring! It’s gone!” My brand new, stunning ring that Tom has just given me must have flown off my finger without me realizing. I’m racing around frantically from the baggage claim to the claims window then to the claims office and back again. All of the locations are only a few feet from each other but there is no ring anywhere. Tears immediately begin to flow…again. It’s a really sensitive time for me and I’m extremely emotional after having to leave the place I called home, all my friends, and Tom all because of stupid visa requirements. I loved the idea of having a ring with real Australian opal on me all the time to remind me of the time spent there and of course, Tom. I also just loved that ring so damn much. It’s the one I missed my flight over only a few weeks ago. How could I have already managed to lose it?
I’m beginning to lose hope in finding it. After all, I can’t imagine too many people turning in a gorgeous ring if they found it on the airport floor of a third world country. Then I remember, I had put stuff back in my bag after it fell out on the luggage belt. I rush back to my bag I had just left on the floor of the claims office – BINGO! In my luggage tangled in the clothes I had just put back in, was my ring! The elephant that was sitting on my heart moved in an instant and I immediately put the ring back on my middle finger; instead of my ring finger. This was definitely not the start to my travels I was hoping for and decide to go to the hostel and just relax for a bit after a pretty emotionally draining journey.
I spend most of the day watching Netflix in bed at the hostel feeling sorry for myself. When I decide I’m ready to function as a human again and face the world, I go for a wander around the streets looking for a place to eat dinner. I turn down an alleyway and get my first taste of local Vietnamese living. All of the doors to the homes are open. You can see everything! A lady cleaning the table after dinner, a little girl sitting on the floor with books in her lap doing what I can only assume is homework. Another boy lying on a tile floor while watching TV because they don’t seem to have chairs or a couch. Others are selling things out of their houses: fruit, meat, cooked food from carts etc. I continue to meander around for a while. This place is already so fascinating and eye opening to me.
I find my way back to a place I saw a bit earlier on my stroll called Miss Saigon. I order coconut seafood rice and a passion fruit mojito. I got the passionfruit mojito and a coconut. It’s super fancy to be given my rice dish in a coconut but I’m excited about it. I take the top off of the coconut that the restaurant has pretty much already cut off and to my surprise there was no rice; just coconut water with a straw. “Does everyone get a coconut with their meal?” I ask the boy who brought me my food. He shook his head “yes”, so I take a sip. I love fresh coconut water! After a while, I see the man who took my order take a perplexing look at my table and run into the kitchen. I look around to the other tables near me and realize, no one else has a coconut on their table. I was given the wrong coconut menu item. Laughing about the mix up, I finish my coconut, and my mojito when finally my waiter places the rice dish in front of me along with the bill.
The bill has all three items I was given on it, despite not actually ordering the coconut. Oh well. It’s no big deal considering the exchange rate is so good here. I laugh it off, sign my bill and head back to the hostel to get some sleep. I am exhausted from the long travel journey with the added emotional drainage of everything else. I really hope tomorrow goes a bit smoother but let’s be honest, not much more can go wrong, can it?
Catch me if you can…
Jo Mo