Arrested In Vietnam

This is the strange but true story of how I ended up locked in a cell in Vietnam. As featured on Talksport, BBC Radio & a few articles on British backpackers being complete idiots. I’d argue with that last point, but in retrospect it’s probably true.

So how does one, end up imprisoned in Vietnam? Those of you that don’t know me, might think of the usual, drugs? Alcohol? Disrespecting Ho Chi Minh? The actual answer is so embarrassing that many people do not believe me, to the extent that without fail every time I have to show them a picture (Which you can see below). But before you scroll down, though I imagine intrigue got the better of you, let me set up the back story as to how & why I was arrested for drawing a ‘SMILEY FACE’ on my passport photo.

Long before I decided on moving to Vietnam in 2017, I had first visited with good friend Lee a few years earlier. To those that have not been before, you should go as its a fabulous country. However, the weather can at times be very unpredictable. Even the wet season can have temperatures of 30 degrees plus & the dry season can be interrupted by a freak flash flood. The tropical climate would be the first main factor in this story. Myself & Lee were in the far North of the country, ‘Sapa’ to be precise. It’s pretty close to the Chinese border & boasts fantastic views of mountains, rice terraces & Rainforest.

Its a bit of paradise hidden in the mountains, relatively quiet & an untouched community of sought, only recently making money out of the booming tourism industry in Vietnam. We had checked into a pretty decent hotel & had a trek organised through the mountains & jungle to stay with a local family in the hills. Only needing an overnight bag, we left the bulk of our luggage in the hotel to retrieve upon our return. Mistake number 1 would be deciding to take my passport with me, though once again you could argue it’s safer to have it with you than leave it in a hotel. Mistake number 2 would be using a not very waterproof rucksack for the trek. But once again, few could have predicted the onslaught of God’s almighty shitstorm that was about to happen.

About half-way through the trek on Day 1, we found ourselves in the middle of a Monsoon. We were also knee high in Buffalo shit, as we were guided through the rice paddy fields. This with the mixture of the most thunderous amounts of rain I had ever seen resulted in what I can only describe as a Vietnamese version of ‘You’ve been framed’. Everyone on the trek was slipping, sliding & barely able to walk. This was due to the full force of mother nature, creating floods in minutes & the ground giving way beneath our feet. We honestly would have been drier if we were scuba diving…

After about 2 hours or so of being pelted by the Monsoon, we found refuge in a small village. We were sheltered & fed before we restarted our adventure when the weather was much calmer. Within minutes the storm had turned to beaming sunlight & by the time we arrived at the homestay, we were dry. The weather in Vietnam really is Bipolar…You might be thinking why I haven’t checked the contents of my valuables? To be honest at the time I didn’t feel the need to, my passport & money were in a water tight sealed packet I purchased from Millets, designed to keep valuables dry…

Fast forward 30 odd hours & after an idyllic night in a remote village with a family in the mountains, we had returned to our hotel in Sapa. First port of call was to unpack our overnight bag & dry our clothes that were still a bit wet…Mine & Lee’s dong was soaking wet (Vietnamese currency), but even the Vietnamese had the foresight to make their money waterproof. Our dollars on the other hand were soaked. So In a scene similar to something out of ‘Breaking Bad’ we had to use a hair drier to dry our US Dollars…

But what about my Passport? Well as you’ll remember, I cleverly put this in a waterproof sealed case…Turns out that rather than KEEP WATER OUT! It decided to collect water so much so that my passport was floating around the plastic case like a weird fish in a FUCKING AQUARIUM!

I was mortified, angry, confused & fucked off…I rushed to the hair drier to try & save the most precious item I had. Once I had done my best to dry my passport & on further inspection, it appeared that the only damage caused was exclusively to my face…The text was fine, the case was fine, my visas looked normal & I even still had my hair…It was just the features on my face that had disappeared. Like some weird reverse version of ‘Guess Who’.

It was also only 3 days into our 6 weeks trip across Vietnam…Not wanting to ruin the rest of my trip, but also Lee’s. I convinced myself that when the time came to fly back to the UK, it would be fine. How wrong I was…However being the over cautious person I am, I had multiple paper copies of my Passport & visas. I was further convinced the electronic chip would still work & that in 2014, surely you don’t need a face to travel back home? Yes I was clutching at straws…

After about 5 weeks of adventure, booze & stories for the grandkids. It was nearly time to end what had been an epic 6 weeks in a country I had fell in love with. Now in Ho Chi Minh in the South, we were to fly back to the UK via Qatar Airways. It was the night before our flight & I had suddenly remembered about my faceless passport…Unable to sleep & full of anxiety, I was stressed to say the least. But as I had done for the previous few weeks, convinced myself that everything would be fine. I had backup paperwork & surely the electronic chip would still work. It was then I remembered that I was so sure I was going to be fine, that I used a blue biro to draw a smiley face with googly eyes on my passport…

A work of art, I think you’ll agree?

So why on earth would I add insult to injury & further vandalise my already fucked passport? It’s a good question in fairness & all I can answer is…I was trying to be funny.

Arguably the only thing I am good at is having rather quick wit & the ability to make a joke out of any situation. Even this one…Though truth be told, I was still too embarrassed to show my friends I was with, so the joke didn’t have an audience in the end. Though when I came to show it at the check in desk, not only were they laughing, half the employees in the airport stopped working to come & see this monstrosity.

At the airport as I eluded to, I quickly became a minor celebrity. Everybody at Qatar airways laughed, giggled & some just bewildered. If Airline was still on ITV I’d have definitely featured. One guy even took a photo of my passport & then had a selfie with me…It was at this point I knew I was fucked!

In a flurry of panic I was ushering the check in lady to use the electronic chip as my last saving grace…But as she scanned my passport, I was greeted by the haunting sound of a buzzer. The kind of buzzer you would receive in family fortunes for getting a question wrong. After about 45 minutes of humiliation, I was looking at defeat. I just couldn’t believe that they were not able to help me? But now 7 years late, I can somewhat understand that If I were in her shoes, I also wouldn’t have a clue what to do If presented with a caricature of Mr Bean as an official document.

Believe me we tried, the only advice we were given was to contact the British Embassy. Problem number 347 being that the embassy was over 1000 miles away in Hanoi. We found a phone & managed to locate a British consulate in Ho Chi Minh, but that would have to be a mission for the next day. In another twist of fate, Qatar had not only cancelled my flight, but also Lee’s…Despite him having a passport with a perfectly working face attached.

We were now exhausted, frustrated & pissed off. Even more annoyingly we gave the rest of our money away to our driver as a tip. So we had to withdraw more dong & make our way back into they city of Ho Chi Minh. We decided to head back to the backpacking area we had stayed the night before to find a cheap hotel & make a plan for the next day. We jumped in a taxi & asked to go back to the hotel we stayed in last night. This taxi driver would test our patience even further. From his point of view, it looked like we just landed in Vietnam. Not knowing we had already been in the country for over a month, he was hell bent on taking us to his cousins hotel rather than the one we wanted to go to. Traffic now at an all time high, we were arguing in this taxi for over an hour…Despite our constant denial to stay at his cousins hotel, he still took us there & charged us 4 times as much as it shoudl have been. We had to wrestle our bags away from the ushers & leg it down the road. Luckily we recognised where we were & managed to find a legitimate hotel.

Moving things along, we got up early the next morning to get to the consulate. Lee had to wait outside while I went in to explain my situation, this ended up being close to 4 hours…The other issue we had was my Visa was about to expire. So I would have to get an emergency extension, go back to the consulate, apply for an emergency passport from the home office & then only could I book a flight. Then with my flight information, revisit the immigration office & consulate to make sure I had left the country legally with my new documents. This was further made complicated as my bank card would only work in 1 ATM in the whole of Ho Chi Minh & I had no way of knowing how much money I had left.

Lee had decided to book a new flight home, I can’t blame him. Otherwise he would have been in the same situation as me. Once he left, I booked a few more days at the hotel & went to find the immigration office. Long story short, there are 2 immigration offices. One for Vietnamese & one for foreigners. Of course I went to the wrong one, where upon quick inspection of my VISA, realised it had expired & put me in a holding cell. I ended up there for 3 days & 2 nights…Annoyingly not getting the benefit of the hotel I had paid for. What was most frustrating was that they didn’t listen, they took the rash approach of Communism & saw that something wasn’t right & locked me up. It was only on day 2 that I was able to show them the translation the consulate had gave me, which I am pretty sure explained the situation.

On the morning of day 3, they seemed much friendlier…I wasn’t in the holding cell all the time, I had access to a cafeteria which I can only assume was for staff. They were suddenly all smiles & treating me as a friend & had dropped their harsh military exterior. I can’t say for sure, but I think they had contact with the British Embassy & had realised I’m not a threat, I am not smuggling drugs & that I was just a bit of a plonker. They eve drive me back to my hotel, to the correct immigration office & to the consulate.

The hotel staff were confused why they hadn’t seen me in a few days…But I just couldn’t be bothered to explain. I won’t bore you with the details, but the bureaucratic task of getting a new British passport & new visa in a communist country took about 2 weeks. In that 2 weeks I had to stay within the city & was bed ridden for most of it after getting food poisoning from some dodgy crocodile meat. But this meant I didn’t miss a match of the 2014 World Cup or Wimbledon.