Communist Bureaucracy Rules

I think the DMV has been in collusion with the Vietnamese government refining just how much red tape they can squeeze into any particular transaction. I apologize in advance for this boring entry.

Mike Cho has left Vietnam. At this moment he is probably wandering the streets of Seoul, eating spicy fish, and chatting up the locals as only Mike can do. I must admit that upon his unceremonious departure I did get a bit teary-eyed. Of course I usually get choked up at the resolution stage of made-for-tv movies too. In truth I am truly sad to see my travel partner leave. Besides a few short solo excursions for lunch or bathroom breaks, we have been right next to each other for an entire three weeks without flare-up or ill spirits. I'm sure my trip will begin to take a decidedly different course from now on. Mike, please go to Tacqueria Cancun and eat a veggie burrito regular beans no sour cream for me. Then go to the Latin American, order an IPA, and spill a bit on the floor while somberly whispering, "this is for my homie." I'll do the same for you here, except substitute muc for burrito and watery bia hoi for IPA.

Now on to more serious matters. My Vietnamese travel visa has expired. Allow me give you the necessary background information required to truly appreciate where I'm at. Days before leaving the states I requested and recieved a 30-day, multiple-entry visa from the Vietnamese consolate in San Francisco. That process went very smoothly and gave no premonition of what was in store for me. Passport in pocket, I arrived at the sparklingly new Hanoi International Airport, nonchalantly handing it to the immigration officer just a stones throw from the taxi lineup outside. He flipped the pages of my little blue book back and forth for a minute and then gave me a perplexed look, pointing with his middle finger to the visa's entry and exit dates. March 23 to April 22. At first I didn't note the problem. And then I realized that some mistake at the consolate resulted in a visa that was dated one month later than it should have. Immigration man got on the horn and chatted with his superiors. I was then escorted by a very young man swimming in a severe looking uniform to a bank teller style window (which I was not allowed to approach). There were six or seven men behind the window all busily filling out paperwork or stamping documents or writing in notebooks. They all wore the funny uniform which looked as though a Vietnamese tailor copied a Russian general's outfit with fabric culled from a Disney fire sale. They kept asking me why I had come a month earlier than I was supposed to. They also played a funny round robin game of good-cop-bad-cop, alternately being nice and saying no problem, to shrugging their shoulders and saying that this was going to be difficult. Perhaps these were subtle appeals for a bribe. After quite a bit of concerned eyeballing and ominous head nodding they offered to give me a 15-day visa for an additional 25 dollars. Yippee! I gladly paid and was escorted out, past immigration to a nervous Mike Cho who had been waiting in Arrivals for the better part of an hour. Now I had a visa upto the 9th of March and one from March 23rd to April 22nd, leaving half a month's gap in the middle. The immigration men told me that I could fill the gap by extending the visa 15 days when my current one expired. It expired while we were up in the mountains, far from any embassy or travel agent, so I did a bit of research before it and took a calculated risk that dealing with paying late fees and getting an extension would not be an overly taxing endeavor. Heh, my naivete is like American expansionist policy in the late 1800's - boundless.

As with everything here, it pays to get second opinions. And third ones as well. And since the opinions rarely agree, fourth and fifth ones, until a caucus-like concensus is reached from these local experts who are, and often aren't, in the know. I can't blame them too severely. The bureaucracy here is mind-blowing. Add corruption on top of that, and getting a straight answer out of a government official is like getting a weeble-wobble to fall down. I've been to six travel agents in the vicinity of my hotel asking for advice and services in repairing my visa situation. The first one said it would not be possible and the only option was to go to the Cambodian border, pay my late fees, turn around, pay for a new visa, and then reenter the country. This seemed strange to me, because why shouldn't I be able to do all of that here, in the largest city in Vietnam? Another travel agent said no problem and then after an hour with my passport said, no, totally impossible, I would simply have to leave and my chances of reentering at the border were slim with a bribe and nil without. Several agents simply couldn't make sense of the situation - there were too many visas littering my passport. Finally, I met an agent who explained my predicament like this: Your visa has a "D" in the corner. That means it can't be extended. You must get a new visa and the only sort of visa you can get is a 30-day visa, which is 60 dollars. If you go to the border, you can get a 15 day visa for 50 dollars. Either way you must pay 5 dollars a day in late fees. Arranging for your new visa will take 4 days. "Do I have to pay late fees for those four days?" "Maybe not." "So you're sure this will work?" "Yes. Maybe." Apparently a photocopy of a passport will suffice for an actual passport while travelling, so I will head south while this man attempts to sort out my predicament. Godspeed, Vietnamese travel agent man.

Tomorrow I will motor down through the Mekong delta to Phu Quoc, a large island on the southwestern tip of the country. Then I'll head into Cambodia and depending on how the motorcycle performs go north to Laos or west into Thailand. Dealing with my passport in Ho Chi Minh city will require returning here, which will require at least an extra night's stop over.

Added to my worries is the Minsk. So far it's been mechanically sound besides the broken rack and the persistent oil leak. But now I'm experiencing clutch problems - I'm having increasing difficulty getting into third gear. Story of my life I guess. Anyway, the Minsk mechanics here in the south are hacks and they tend to rip out the prized original Russian parts when they "repair" your bike, replacing them with cheaper, inferior Vietnamese versions. Apparently one must diligently sit next to the mechanic while they perform your repairs to ensure that they do only what is necessary and not any unauthorized organ doaning.

If I can get the bike in running order then it will need to stay gold until I'm ready to dump it. Repairing or selling it anywhere outside of Vietnam is unlikely since there are no qualified mechanics and no parts outside of the country. Riding alone in treacherous Cambodia also makes me a little nervous.

After Phu Quoc, my other option is to return to Ho Chi Minh City, sell my bike to the guy Mike sold his to, and then potentially rent bikes as I go throughout Laos and Cambodia. Of course, that seems unlikely. Without my Minsk I'll probably end up taking a boat up the Mekong, through Cambodia and Laos, eventually landing in Northern Thailand. Fun, but not as fun or engaging as riding the bike.

I have this romantic desire to ride that damn bike across Asia thrusting myself by force into a comedy of errors of the Voltaire variety. I'm positive the bike will get me to either Laos or Thailand without trouble, and I don't mind taking a loss (is that a write-off?) and giving it to a farmer or cool person along the way if it begins to falter. It's such a fantastic way to go to out of the way places and meet people you'd never encounter on a bus or a tourist boat. And the demand for original, out-of-the-way, photography from blog readers like you is intense! I know it's not the practical, safe, or sensible thing to do, but... I'm on the fence. What do y'all think?