Stranded in Dubai

Ah, the juxtaposition between my Grandma (Bà Thuy) escaping communist Vietnam as a war refugee, and ME grueling desperately for entrance into Vietnam as a sweaty, naïve, backpacking…American tourist. 

To credit myself, I’m not unbearably sweaty, I do have a cute suitcase, and I did as much background research as possible.

But what could have prepared me for a 10 day layover, heatwaves, sandstorms, yellow fever, and… falling in love?

After I hugged my London companions goodbye, I embarked on what I already knew would be an unruly flight. I booked a cheap flight to Hồ Chí Minh City, and my layovers included Tel Aviv, Dubai, and India.

In 30 hours, I expected to be in Hồ Chí Minh city, Vietnam (the new Saigon) sharing a bowl of phở with my friend Truong, and finding family members that I hadn’t seen in 11 years. I was so excited to exercise the Vietnamese language I had been practicing.

The trip to Israel was the noisiest flight I’d ever been on. There were so many children, and at some point two seats were freed up next to me. Upon seeing this, an Israeli mother asked me if her baby could sleep there. 

Being half asleep myself, I said oh but of course! :))

I woke up with a baby I didn’t know sleeping on my lap, and went straight back to sleep. The mom couldn’t stop laughing and thanking me. So that’s the tone this adventure begins on. Crowded and silly.

I used my visa to get on my next flight to Dubai, which was difficult, but manageable. I felt excited about my layover in Dubai, because it was supposed to be 14 hours, so I could leave the airport to adventure.

When the tall, wide, UAE doors slid open, I was introduced to a gust of pure dry heat that I had never before met.

Men dressed in long white Dishdasha and women in a long black Burqa. It seemed as though everyone and everything moved slowly. Because how could anything move enthusiastically through this weather - summer in Dubai? 

My breath was ragged and I’m sure my lungs looked as though they’d tumbled and shriveled in a drying machine. 

I took a taxi to the Marina mall to begin my adventure, and when I went to pay the taxi driver, my credit card was rejected because I had a SIM card in my phone, which didn’t allow me to approve my purchase. 

So, I took out my debit card and used an Emirates Islamic ATM at the mall, to give the taxi driver some cash. 

Next, the ATM flashed “FRAUD SUSPECTED” and proceeded to…swallow…my…card. 

This is where things get interesting. A security guard lent me money for the taxi, and we went to Western Union so I could pay him back. Then we went for lunch and he got me into the Burj Khalifa by telling the management that I was a celebrity’s assistant. I found that last part out later. 

I thought this was the end to a pretty cool adventure.

HOWEVER. When I returned to the airport to check into my flight, I was denied entrance because of four things.

1. I didn’t have my India visa

2. My Vietnam visa said the wrong checkpoint

3. I didn’t have my yellow fever vaccination certificate

4. A sandstorm was coming

Ohhhhh no.

My biggest promise to myself on these travels that I KNOW will be crazy, is no crying and no mental breakdowns. This moment of rejection was the closest I’ve gotten to breaking that promise. But what help would that be? All I could do was laugh.

A quote I always seem to come back to during times of adversity is “Everything will be OK when you are OK with everything” -Michael A. Singer

5 hours later, I’m hanging out with some flight attendants that are my new friends because I’ve spent so much time at this airport. 

One of them took me to dinner when their shift ended, and gave me some cash for a hostel. My experience in Dubai was: everyone being ridiculously accommodating, feeling bad about me losing my debit card, and then blaming their religion when I questioned their kindness. Also, here they put ketchup on their pizza.

The sky was blanketed in fog when I woke up. Wait not fog - SAND.  

The sandstorm hit, something I’d never seen before.

Ok I feel like this blog is getting long so let’s wrap things up and not get too detailed. I made extremely interesting friends at the hostel that came from places I’d never seen: India, Morocco, Pakistan, Egypt, Uganda, and Texas. lol

I had so much fun, plus got myself together by getting a new Visa, yellow fever vaccine, and a DIRECT flight ticket to Hà Nội.

My friend from India celebrated her birthday and drew mehndi on my hand as I was leaving. Indian culture, food, and people were so amazing to be around in Dubai, and made me really want to visit India. Oh but now I want to see Egypt too.

My flight attendant friend hooked it up with a “friend pass” that got me an insanely cheap ticket to Vietnam on the "world's greatest airline", Emirates. It was a very fancy flight. But they didn’t ask to see my visa, yellow fever vaccine, or flight ticket. wow

That was an amazing end to my 10 day layover in Dubai and my mom is still trying to send the flight attendant homie some Hawaiian chocolates and macadamia nuts, as she does. 

Overall, I’m grateful that everything went wrong in Dubai. Because everything went right, too.

But when I touched down in Hà Nội, I nearly cried. 

I didn’t realize how desperate and eager I was to get here. Though it had been 21 years in the making, of me yearning for this panoramic place that I’d only read about in my Grandmother’s book, and heard about from my Mom.

Vietnam welcomed me like a warm hug from an old friend. With a fanny pack strapped snugly to my stomach, I triumphantly took in all the purple passion fruit, baby banyan trees, scooter traffic, and communism, that surrounded me. Which you will read aall about in my next blog!