Afternoon tea in Siem Reap and the flight to Hanoi.

We wake up at 0700 and I join my cousins for coffee at a shop down the street.

I text the guesthouse in Hanoi to ask how I am to check in. They ask my name and reservation number. They have no record of it. They ask how I made my reservation and I tell them through Expedia/VRBO. We stopped using them a while ago. They ask me to cancel my reservation and contact VRBO for a refund. Do they have any availability for the week? Unfortunately not. I start looking for another room.

I head back to the hotel and request to book an Airbnb. My request is denied; they have another booking. I reserve another guesthouse and text them for confirmation. They tell me their last guest has just checked out but there’s an issue with the air conditioner. It’s started leaking and there’s water all over the floor. They can offer me a room at a hotel nearby run by one of their colleagues, however. They send me photos and tell me that that I can pay the same price. The room looks clean and there’s a window overlooking the city. I agree and book a taxi through them so that I don’t have to find the hotel when I arrive.

I join my cousins at the tail end of breakfast. I’m not particularly hungry and we have a reservation for high tea at the Raffles Grand Hotel d'Angkor later. I’m saving myself for that.

We take a remorque to the Palm Sugar Restaurant area where we had dinner the night before and walk back towards the hotel. The night before it looked like an area worth exploring and we’re each in search of gifts and souvenirs to take home. I’m looking for scarves.

Not finding any markets I stop into a hotel to ask where we might find one. I’m directed to the Old Market where we had been our first night in town. We continue walking along the river and find a small set of shops conssiting of a boutique and an art gallery associated with a non-profit teching art to Cambodians. On finding out where I’m from a woman working there tells me she lived in Brooklyn for three years before volunterring for the non profit. She ended up staying.

My cousin has seen a handicraft market on the map catty corner to our hotel but we hadn’t seen it on our walks. We turn the corner to walk down the street a bit and find a small shop selling tchotchkes and step in to take a look. My cousin says she thought it’d be a market with a bunch of crafts. These are a bunch of crafts. But in a building. This is a building. Two women laugh at our exchange. You know what I mean, she says. Yes. I’m just being a jerk.

Walking further down the street we spot a small alley down which there is a large market full of stalls selling various wares. We’ve found what my cousin had been looking for.

Most of the stalls are in support of local craftsmen and farmers. One selling scarves and other silk products supports 60 women who are either HIV positive or victims of landmines. I buy three scarves.

While waiitng for my cousins I chat with the saleswoman. She’s from a smaller village in Cambodia and moved to Siem Reap relatively recently. I ask if she likes it. She does, very much. There’s more to do and when she has time she can visit the temples whenever she wants. She tells me that they’re free to visit for locals.

Back at the hotel I go for a swim. My cousin comes downstairs and sits on a lounge chair, as if watching over me for fear I might drown. We joke that she’s like a mother watching over her son.

Near 14h we walk over to the Raffles for tea. I had made a reservation but there’s no need. The lounge is mostly empty and we’re seated off to the side on a sofa away from the other guests who are present.

The service is lovely, the tea wonderful. Of the snacks and scones and cakes, my cousin and I agree that the cucumber sandwich is our favorite. It’s our last meal together and I order champagne.

I’ve booked a car to the airport at 16h through the hotel. It’s actully cheaper than the Grabs I’ve priced out and we head back to the hotel so I can finish packing and get ready for my flight, passing the Art for Peace mural depicting scenes of suffering and destruction, reflecting the human consequences of conflict. Given current events it’s a poignant reminder of the cost of war and the senseless killing that goes along with it.

I sleep most of the way to the airport. It’s an hour away and as much as I want to take in every last sight I can, the early days and the red eye flights have taken their toll and I can barely keep my eyes open as I settle into the back seat and the feel the gentle vibration of the car as the driver slips through traffic on the smooth tarred roads.

On checking in for my flight the agent notices a discrepancy with my visa. The numbers don’t match. I had had an issue adding the letter to my passport number and omitted it as I remember having been told to do on applications to different countries. Turns out Vietnam is not the place to do it.

Another agent leads me aside and has me scan a QR code which connects me with a service that offers a rush service for visas. I call them and they have me send a photo of my passport and my previous application. I ask if they’ve had this issue with letters in passport numbers before and they say no.

The service costs $320, but they manage to provide me with a visa minutes before check-in closes. They tell me when I reach Hanoi someone will meet me just before immigration to usher me through the VIP line. I’m surprised how calm I am during the ordeal. While I wait I research hotels near the airport in the event I need to spend the night.

I’m assigned a window seat and manage to sleep almost the entire flight, confused as to how I may have made the mistake on my visa application. I resolve to double check the application process when I’m at my hotel.

At the airport, an immigration officer greets me. He has my photo on his phone and leads me directly to his booth where he processes my visa immediately and sends me on my way. If I were very rich I’d use this service anywhere I could.

Pho calls me as I am waiting for my bag. Somehow I keep missing his call and he keeps missing mine when I call him back. When I head outside I see a man walking by with a sign by his side with my name on it. I tap him on the shoulder and point to the sign and point to myself. I’m Eugene. Follow me, he says.

The streets are relatively quiet at this hour and I enjoy seeing the city whiz past the windows. We cross a beautiful bridge, the support towers illuminated by kalidescopic lights.

The hotel is situated beside a park and the location is actually nicer than the place I had originally booked. Min checks me in. She tells me I’m the last to arrrive for the night, handing me my paperwork. It’s 22h and she’s just about to go home. Her shift started at 14h and she’s just about done. I thank her and tell her I’ll see her tomorrow. She repeats the phrase as if testing out the words.

The room is large with a window off to the side with views of the city. It’s good for what it is but I’m past caring. I grab my computer and load the Vietnam visa site. When I upload a photo of my passport some of the fields are auto-populated, but with a yellow background, making me thing there had been an error.

I realize what I did. In reaction to what I had assumed were errors I removed the letter from my number and the field went white. As it turns out you don’t need to do anything with the fields, or you could put a space and delete it and the field would go white. It’s confusing as it runs counter to established user experience patterns, and I’m glad I determined the root issue. Now I know better.

I also now know to confirm guesthouse reservations in Vietnam via WhatsApp or email as soon as I make them. As a Chinese saying goes, I’ve paid my tuition. 🇻🇳