Phuong and I made a couple of trips to Ho Chi Minh City this week. The second trip wasn't initially planned, but more on that in a moment. First, we left Bien Hoa 5:45 a.m. on Thursday for Phuong's appointment with the doctor at Tu Du hospital, which specializes in prenatal care and delivery. It has a good reputation, which explains the massive crowd of pregnant women everywhere, and I mean everywhere. In the halls, in the stairwells, in the men's room ... everywhere. A few men were on hand to accompany the women (and cough without covering their dang mouths). While Phuong waited with the masses, I went to the U.S. embassy about two miles away to get two documents notarized so Phuong and I can get married. The embassy visit went smooth, but the woman there told me I needed to get her "notary signature verified" at some other bureaucratic office a few blocks away. She said that the (unnecessary) bureaucratic office closes daily from 11:30 a.m. to 1:30 p.m. (nap time in Vietnam). I returned to the non-air conditioned hospital and everything went great with Phuong's doctor visit. The sonogram showed our baby's fingers and toes and ribs and everything else ... very exciting.
We left Tu Du and rushed to the (unnecessary) bureaucratic office, getting there at 11:02 a.m. Closed. Nap time must come early on Thursdays. We go have lunch and return 1:30 p.m. because the traffic is that horrible in HCMC. We take a ticket (number 76) and watch the electronic screen show 67, then 68, then 69, then 81. I felt like Mr. Bean in the episode where he's waiting at the emergency room. Anyway, after an hour or so, 76 shows on the screen. Shocking, but the Vietnamese girl who's "helping" me isn't very friendly. She takes my passport, looks at my picture, contorts her face, and asks with some serious attitude "Is this you?" A lot of comebacks were racing through my mind, but I just nodded yes and let it go. She shuffles the papers like she's actually doing something, and says "Come back tomorrow at 3 and get your documents." There was no mention of a two-day notary process on the website, but I didn't have any choice. The other folk waiting with me weren't pleased either, but we had to soldier on and live to deal with bureaucracy another day.
Phuong and I made our second trip in pre-Tet Friday traffic, getting there early (2:20 p.m.). Phuong took charge, went into the office immediately, and the nap-sters said the papers were ready. 60,000 dong later, I had my documents. I told the girl behind the counter that the embassy website should tell people that the notary process takes two days so people can plan appropriately. Her response? She laughed. I asked her if she spoke English. Her response? She laughed. I guess I'm a funny guy. Usually, I get a hand waved in my face when I talk (English or Vietnamese), but now I've got ém rollin' in the aisles.
Tet fever is rampant. I'm not a New Year's guy, so it's lost on me. Prices go up, the crowds are relentless, motorbike traffic is wretched and sprinkled with drunks, and people celebrate by eating food that my bowels don't trust. However, I love the time off from work. I can finally get our new house in order, so to speak, and spend quality time with my future wife. Now that's worth celebrating.
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