June 1-4, 2008
The last few days in Vietnam were bitter-sweet for me. I knew that in a few days I would be heading back to China and then to countries I’d only dreamed about visiting. I would also see my brother and mother. It had been almost a year since I’d seen my brother and about six months since I’d seen my mom. But at the same time, I would have to say good-bye to my new friends and I would probably never see them again.
We spent our first day back in Ho Chi Mihn shopping. We bought cheap jewelry and lovely trinkets. Dong is worthless outside of Vietnam and no one will change dong back into dollars. So, anything that caught our fancy, we bought. It started to rain, but we just put on our rain ponchos and kept going.
The next day, two of the ladies left to go back to their homes in Europe. The day after that, another one left to continue her tour of Asia in Cambodia. I was the last to leave.
My flight to Beijing was on the morning of the fourth. It was an early morning flight, so I woke up before the sun rose in order to pay my hotel bill and wait for a taxi. The front desk clerk called one for me. When the taxi arrived, the door man help me into the cab.
He put my backpack in the trunk and told me that the ride shouldn’t cost more than 100,000 dong. I already knew that the ride should cost about $5, because I had asked many agents and other tourists about it. I even made sure to set aside double that, to make sure I could get to the airport alright.
To me, the price didn’t really matter, I planned to give the cabbie all the dong I had left which was about 300,000 dong. The ride lasted about 8 minutes, but even from the start I knew something was wrong with the cab’s meter.
The meter started at 50,000 dong. When it hit 100,000 dong I looked back; I could still see my hotel out the rear window. When we got the airport, the meter said 382,000 dong! I didn’t have that much money on me.
I handed him a 100,000 dong note. He waved his arms furiously, refusing to take it and pointed at the meter. I told him that the hotel man said it should cost less than 100,000 dong and that was all he was going to get.
He took my money and folded his arms. He wasn’t going to move until I paid his full amount. I told him that I wanted my backpack and pointed to the trunk of the car. He ignored me. I was not going to get out of the car and give this man the opportunity to drive off with my stuff.
During my trip I noticed that people in Vietnam like to shout a lot and I figure I would try it. I sat back in my seat and I screamed at him, “I want my bag NOW!”
He turned around looking quite shocked. I had yelled so loud, all the people standing outside the airport turned around to look at me. I opened my mouth, about to yell again, but he was already out of the car. He ran to the back of the taxi to get my bag for me. Once he was standing on the sidewalk with my backpack in hand, I got out the vehicle.
He handed me my bag. I put my arms through the straps, turn to him and politely said, “Thank you.” I did drag him along for a bit when I walked away because he didn’t let go of my bag. But he couldn’t hold on forever.
I reached Peking 7 hours later and ended up giving my useless dong to the people affected by the earthquake. They took up a collection on Dragon Air.
The Tourist Rate
I usually don’t mind paying the tourist rate for things. As a tourist, I pay more for items sold on the street than a local would. It’s a bit unfair, but the things bought in South East Asia are still pretty cheap even with price hike. A dollar might not mean that much to an American, but its worth a lot to that vendor.
What I hate is when the tourist rate is used as a form of disrespect. That taxi driver looked at me. I was a female traveling alone. He probably thought I didn’t know any better and even if I did, I would be too scared to not pay his overpriced charges.
I don’t mind paying 20% extra for fruit from a vendor who walks all day in the hot sun to feed her family, but I will not pay 282% extra to an obnoxious cab driver for an 8 minute ride in a cab with an obviously broken meter.
