Life At Slow-Mo

As the Singapore Airlines Boeing 777-300 was taxiing, I looked out the window and saw darkness with specks of light scattered along the horizon. I could barely make out the faint shape of a harvested rice field along the runway perimeter fence. The wide body jet made a right turn, and suddenly the terminal building appeared from the right side of the window. It was new and modern. It wasn’t a low, traditional styled building like the old Jakarta Airport, but very much like Chek Lap Kok International Airport in Hong Kong.

Before we landed, I asked the purser for an immigration form. “I don’t think you’ll need it, Sir, but to be sure, I’ll check.” He disappeared behind the curtain to the Business Class Section, and in a few minutes he returned. “The immigration form is required only if you have something to declare. But in general, you don’t need it.” He explained.

He saw my confused expression and added, “Anything else I could help you with, Sir?”
“So I don’t have to fill out any form, at all?”
“No, Sir.”
“Thank you.”
I could not believe my ears. Since the first time I went to other countries, filling out immigration forms has been a routine. Having a completed form in my hands gave me a sense of assurance that I wouldn’t have any problem getting through immigration. Now that I didn’t have any form with me made me feel like I was naked.

After passing several travellators and a quick stop at the restroom, we arrived at the immigration hall. It was a huge space with a long row of counters. The lines of passengers moved rapidly through the immigration check, and soon it was my turn. Without saying a word, the immigration agent took my passport, scanned it, read the data on his monitor, stamped and signed the passport, and returned it to me. It was all in less than a minute. Not having an immigration form to stamp, fold and staple had something to do with the work efficiency.

It didn’t take long before my luggage appeared on the carrousel. The custom check was a breeze, and in less than ten minutes we were out of the terminal door. The waiting area was so clean and orderly, it took us no time to find the driver who came to pick us up.

As the hotel sedan was making its way along Ho Chi Minh City streets, I marveled at how organized the city was. Including its motorists. There were thousands of motorcycle riders on the street, just like in Jakarta, but they drove carefully.

From my hotel room window I could see a big intersection. At first, I didn’t pay much attention to it because it was just like any other intersection you can expect to find in a city. But on a closer look, I found one peculiarity: there were no traffic lights! Despite of that, the traffic worked just fine.

There were street hawkers selling food along the sidewalks. Unlike their counterparts in Jakarta, they simply put chairs and short tables on the pavement, without erecting big tents that took up a lot of pedestrian space. The sidewalks featured stores, cafes, restaurants, clubs, karaoke lounges, with neon signs flashing over entrances to well-designed establishments.

With the weather so fine, it was not a surprise to find people congregating in parks surrounding the Reunification Hall by the city center. Vending machines were placed in strategic locations, with sufficient number of dustbins to throw empty bottles and cans in.

Opening the desk drawer in my hotel room, I found a pamphlet describing tips for travelers coming to the city. Here’s an interesting excerpt:

“STREET SENSE – in the interest of security and well being, it pays to be security conscious at all times. There are many incidents of pickpockets and motorbike snatchers preying on foreigners especially those carrying handbags, exposed jewelry or money.”

Tourist Guide

Good to know that. Okay, so Ho Chi Minh City does have some shortcomings, like many cities in the world. But so far, it has exceeded my expectations.