I woke up yesterday morning, threw some things in a bag,
went to Oak Park, then went to O’Hare, then went to Seoul, South Korea, then—26
hours after initially setting out—landed in Vietnam. Travel days aren’t always
rich with intrigue, but they can teach us a bit about our own endurance. One of
my former students, Fernando, is watching the cats while we’re away (not just
watching them, he’s feeding them, too). When he came over to meet them this
past weekend, we discussed a trip he took earlier this year: he went to London
on his own and he mentioned the first test of his mettle on that trip was
figuring out how to get to the airport from the Jefferson Park Blue Line.
Navigating airport terminals, filling out medical forms, securing visas,
encountering the unexpected—no matter how exciting and enriching—is what makes
travel exhausting, but successfully moving past every unknown is what makes it
exhilarating.
I’ve never had occasion to fly Korean Airlines before, but
now I wish they offered direct flights from Chicago to Oaxaca. While it is
irresponsible of me to cast larger implications about the whole of Korean
culture based on two flights and one airport, the customer service demonstrated
by every representative of Korean Airlines makes me think South Korea would be
a lovely place to visit for more than the four hours I remained in the
international terminal.
To begin: the flight staff was beautiful. I don’t mean that
in a metaphorical their-kindness-revealed-an-inner-beauty kind of way. They
were literally gorgeous. Their uniforms were fitted aquamarine blouses with the
slightest shimmer and cream colored pencil skirts, but that base was adorned
with both a scarf at the neck which was starched into a formation like birds’
wings and a simple but striking headpiece which gave the appearance that their
buns were held in place with hair sticks. They were also—and more importantly—actually
lovely. The first leg was 14 hours from Chicago to Seoul. I was unable to sleep
much on that flight which made me nervous that I would be wrecked for our first
day in Ho Chi Minh City, but I was impressed by the service we experienced. I
always worry about dehydrating on planes and that triggering my psoriasis while
I’m away from home, but there was a complimentary bottle of water on each
passenger’s seat when we arrived, along with a pillow, a blanket, slippers and
a toothbrush and toothpaste. Attendants also circulated constantly with water
and juice. What struck me the most, however, was a commitment to civility that
I appreciated. It is a requirement that people return their seats to the
upright position when any food is being served and seats should remain in that
position until meals have been cleared. Small gestures reveal a great deal about
cultural norms and values and, in that environment, time slipped away—time is
something I struggle with anyway and the fact that we followed the sun the
entire way here so it never got dark and that we crossed the international
dateline only furthered my confusion: we were served several quite good meals
followed by hot towel service and if I didn’t sleep I was able to relax a bit.
I think sleep eluded me because there were so many moving
parts to our travel day and while I was hopeful they would transition one to
the next easily it was also totally possible we would miss our connecting
flight, get sick, get lost, be detained at customs (when this happens in Canada
it seems like a funny story but I anticipated that if it happened in Vietnam it
might seem—for reasons that are not fair to the Vietnamese, but which have so
much to do with not sharing a common language—scarier somehow). To be honest,
this is also the first trip in years that I have planned entirely on my own and
so many people have asked me in the last several weeks how I knew I could trust
my overseas travel agency that I had to admit I had only my gut and several positive
Yelp reviews to go on. When we first arrived at O’Hare and were asked for our
preapproval letter from the Vietnamese Consulate—which did not appear to me to
be terribly official since it was an emailed PDF—I thought “This is the first
step. If we get past this counter, I have one less thing to be worried about.”
And then we got past that counter, but there would be other counters to get
past before I would sleep easily.
The airport outside of Seoul is enormous and glittery. We
had several hours there before our second flight and free wifi, ample charging
stations and being able to pay for bottled water with dollars made it a
pleasant place to spend some time. Sheer exhaustion drove me to sleep on our
second flight, which was five hours from Seoul to Ho Chi Minh City, despite the
dreadful excitement of a woman losing consciousness in the washroom and
requiring medical attention which took place in the row ahead of us. The care
she was shown was extraordinary and it affirmed my growing appreciation of both
Korean Airlines and South Korean generosity.
It isn’t necessary to fill out customs forms to enter
Vietnam but anyone who travels through South Korea must fill out a medical form
to track and guard against the spread of MERS. When we disembarked, there was a
moment in which we thought we might be on our own but then a young man ran up
and waved a sign with our names on it and helped us secure visas and ushered us
through customs. It couldn’t have been more seamless and we had our bags and
found our driver in very short order. In our travels, Chris and I have climbed
onto chicken buses, tuktuks, and collectivos among other modes of transport and
now we have also travelled by Vietnamese party limo—something that was…
unexpected. Our driver was quiet and we were able to take in initial
impressions of the city and it is a city: it was nearly midnight, but there
were people out on every street corner; markets were still open; there were
lights everywhere.
Our hotel seems safe and nice and our room is simple with an
inviting bed that I dropped into last night and slept a good enough sleep that
I woke up early and anxious in the excited kind of way for the day that lies
ahead.
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