As predicted, the long-anticipated departure from Vietnam was a bit wrought with emotion and exhaustion (and typical Vietnamese fanfare). Mr. Vang was due to arrive with the airport taxi at 5 a.m. to see us off. At 4:45 I was taking a speed shower when I got the knock on the door with John’s warning, “They’re here.” I replied, “The taxi?” I should have known better. “Uh, no, all of them…the neighbors…on the couch.” So much for sneaking out of Vietnam under the cloak of darkness. There was one last couch party going on in the living room, and I was naked in the bathroom. It was only fitting to end on this note.
Once I managed to get my clothes delivered to me and emerge from the bathroom, I smiled at the neighbors (who were eying the piles of stuff that we were leaving behind) and snuck upstairs to take on the beasts. Foster, who had at least three hours of sleep, was remarkably alert. He got dressed, put on his back pack and headed outside to sit on the bridge and await the final call for the taxi. Brianna, with 45 minutes of sleep under her belt, popped out of bed like a cannon. You would have thought she had been anticipating this moment forever (or at least eleven months). She practically skipped out the door to the taxi. Nolan, however, was a sloppy puddle of goo. Having just enjoyed one hour of sleep, he was a blubbering mess, and it took every ounce of patience I possessed to shovel him into the back of the taxi still in his pajamas. (Note to self: seven-year-olds should not attempt to stay up all night – even if they beg to try).
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| Last sunrise in the rice paddy |
Once the hernia-inducing suitcases were packed into the taxi, with all three kids fast asleep on the seats, we wound our way out of the rice paddy and dropped off a teary-eyed Mr. Vang and got one last hug from Ha before we were on our way to Danang for the beginning of the flying marathon that would take us back to Vermont. We pulled over en route at an Op La stand (fried egg sandwiches) for a last Vietnamese breakfast before the journey began.
Predictably, our baggage was excessively overweight. We paid the fee to get it on the first flight to Hanoi and started calculating how many thousands of dollars it was going to cost us to get those bags all the way home. With four different airlines involved in this flying debacle, we were confident each one would take advantage of the opportunity to milk us dry. Too tired to think about how to reshuffle, pitch and rearrange luggage at this stage, we went with the “ignorance is bliss attitude,” and sat down in the waiting room in anticipation of our first flight. We sucked in the last bits of Vietnamese cigarette smoke-filled air and added that to the list of positive things to anticipate about our return to the US – smoke free public spaces.
Flight number one was uneventful, and one hour after take-off we found ourselves collecting those lovely suitcases in Hanoi in preparation for our next flight to southern China. Suitcases in hand, we started dragging them around in search of the check-in counter for Southern China Airways. It was not to be found and neither was our flight number on the departure schedule. It took a little over an hour to ascertain that our flight had been cancelled, but that we could fly out three hours earlier on a different airline and still connect to our original flight in China. Ok. It would have been handy to know this in advance, but no damage was done. In fact we may have saved ourselves a considerable amount of money, because the woman at the check-in counter appeared to feel sorry for us (interpretation of facial expressions here), because she bent the baggage rules just a tad for us. Technically we were entitled to two 25 kg bags each, but she let us go with one 50 kg bag each (much to the baggage handler’s dismay). There seemed to be a small confrontation taking place on the side between the woman who had let the bags through and the guy who was actually going to have to lift them onto the conveyor belt.
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| Just one picture from China |
It was off to Guangzhou, China just a few hours earlier than anticipated where we enjoyed a clean, international airport and a switch in currency about which we were clueless. With no Internet service, Chinese RMB and five hours to kill before our long 13 hour flight to Los Angeles, we decided to take a chance on blindly ordering food from a noodle restaurant and paying with a credit card. Seventy-five dollars later we decided that had perhaps not been the smartest choice (for noodles?). Alas we were well-fed in anticipation of the leg-from-hell on Southern China Airways. And indeed it was the longest flight in the history of the world. It turned out that our seats were not together, so the three kids sat together in row 60. John was on one side of the plane in row 46, and I was on the opposite side of the plane a few more rows forward. I had a middle seat between two Chinese men, and I had a plastic box/safe of some kind bolted to the floor under the seat in front of me. I wondered if we had paid extra for the seat with no leg room. I smiled at my neighbors and promptly turned on my in-flight entertainment. There were two options, “The King’s Speech,” and a Chinese cartoon. They played over and over and over for the entire 13 hour flight. Sleep was an impossible dream. I tossed. I turned. I moved six times so the guy next to the window to go to the bathroom. It was a survival game. By the time we got ready to land in LA, I was so bored that I was taking pictures of the TV screen to entertain myself.
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| Ten minutes to touchdown...giddy with anticipation |
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| That's us about to land in LA! |
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| On the ground in Tinsel Town |
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| Woo Hoo! |
We were all just plain slap happy when we touched down in Tinsel Town. We retrieved the ludicrous luggage, walked outside into the absolutely frigid LA air, found the hotel shuttle and merrily scooted off for a night at the Embassy Suites before our morning flight to the East coast. At the hotel, the television went on and the shrieks of delight began…familiar shows, a language we could understand, heaven. John and I went out to fill Burger King orders for three kids, and I headed to Starbucks for coffee and free WIFI. Everyone was happy. When I returned to the room, everyone was fast asleep except Nolan (naturally). Since I learned absolutely nothing from the previous night’s disaster, I decided to let him stay up all night with me. We went down to the fitness center and spent two hours pedaling bikes, running, jumping, lifting and stretching. He was a trooper. When we finally went back upstairs so I could shower, I literally kept poking him to keep him awake for the duration. I’m happy to report that he made it this time, and he slept soundly all the way back to Vermont – in the plane to NYC, on the floor at JFK for two hours and in the plane all the way back to Burlington – not a peep the entire way.
LA was followed by a brief layover in NYC, and then we were homeward bound at last. The kids were popping out of their skin by the time we arrived in Burlington…home sweet home. Hẹn gặp lại Vietnam and Hello Vermont.
Home Sweet Home
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| Can you say happy? |
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| Friends! |
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| Smiles! |
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Blueberry Pancakes and fresh VT milk!
(Thanks Rich and Jeanette) |
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| Early morning Iggie sighting |
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Okay Vietnamese friends...what's wrong with this picture?
Helmet? Gloves? Hockey Jersey? |
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| Yee Haw! Dingo Deli Kids...this flip's for you! |
Once the hernia-inducing suitcases were packed into the taxi, with all three kids fast asleep on the seats, we wound our way out of the rice paddy and dropped off a teary-eyed Mr. Vang and got one last hug from Ha before we were on our way to Danang for the beginning of the flying marathon that would take us back to Vermont. We pulled over en route at an Op La stand (fried egg sandwiches) for a last Vietnamese breakfast before the journey began.
