Back to Saigon (I) - The Dutch Consulate

Four months ago, I first visited the city of Saigon (or Ho Chi Minh City, as it is called officially). The city had long figured in my imagination, mainly because of the musical Miss Saigon, which I loved when I was a romantic teenager. Since then, my opinion on the musical has changed significantly, but the name Saigon retained its special sound. Hence, visiting the place was a bit of a dream come true. Of course, in many ways Ho Chi Minh City in 2009 is completely different from Saigon in the 1970s, let alone the Saigon as I had imagined it. Yet, there was something strangely familiar about the place. The hustle and bustle, the traffic chaos, the wide range of commercial activities, the street life - it somehow felt as if I had experienced it before. Saigon/HCMC is a city that you either love or hate. Personally, I felt strongly attracted to its liveliness, its food, its history and architecture, and its joie de vivre. I much preferred it to other big Asian cities I had visited before, such as Phnom Penh, Jakarta and Kuala Lumpur, which I felt were less vibrant and more unfriendly.



When I first came to Saigon, I was at a crossroads. I had travelled for a couple of months, and I was wondering where to go and what to do next. I had had my share of Southeast Asia's backpackers' culture, and was not very eager to continue following the prefab trail. Moreover, my financial situation was gradually deteriorating, which meant that I had to choose between two options. I could continue travelling for another month or so, then go back home; or, alternatively, I could try to find a job somewhere in Asia and stay longer. As you know, I would eventually opt for the latter. At the time, however, I was still completely unsure about the near future. So I wandered through the streets of Saigon, mainly by foot, while contemplating different possibilities. With the exception of the obligatory War Remnants Museum, I did not visit any of the main sights in or around the city.

At some point, I met a British expat, who claimed to be working as a language teacher. He recommended Saigon as a place to live and work, as, according to him, teaching jobs were extremely easy to get. That was probably true. I cannot imagine a guy like he working as a teacher in Europe, but he had somehow succeeded in finding work here. He ordered his first large bottle of Tiger beer (0.66 litres) at 11 am, and by the time we said goodbye (and hour and a half later), he had managed to empty five bottles. In the meantime, he had made several sexist, even racist remarks about Vietnamese women ('You can't trust any of them. They're easy to f***, but when you wake up the next morning, your wallet's gone.'). He was highly interested in my field of study, and asked my opinion on a wide variety of issues somehow related to religion. He did not give me much time to answer though, as he constantly interrupted me to give his own 'opinion'. He was strongly anti-Islam, pro-BNP, and proudly declared his willingness to personally kick all those 'camel shaggers' out of 'his' country. He was, in short, his own caricature.

Staying in Vietnam? No, that wasn't exactly my plan. I was on my way to East Asia, I thought. Besides, the hustle and bustle of Saigon may be fun for a couple of days, but I did not really feel like staying there much longer. And so I travelled on, via tourist trap Nha Trang, to lovely Hoi An. The rest is history. I met Nhung, my girlfriend; I decided to stay; and I found part-time work teaching Japanese and English in Hoi An and Da Nang. Needless to say, she completely falsified the image of Vietnamese women that the British expat had drawn. Over the course of the past three and a half months, we got to know each other very well, and became more and more convinced of our relationship - even though, to put it mildly, some local people disapproved of it.

While living here, I learned many things about her country, her family, and culture. She, on the other hand, has never visited the country where I spent most of my life, nor has she met my family. Hence our wish to visit the Netherlands together. Luckily, we found cheap tickets online, so we decided to book for this August - not only because that is the time she has her summer holidays, but also because there will be a conference in Leiden at the end of the month, where I will present a research paper (on which I will write more some other time). First, we will visit my family in Groningen; then, we will move to Leiden, where I will attend the conference and present my paper; and finally, we will spend a few days in Rome, where we will visit a friend of mine, and do some sightseeing. It will be a great month, no doubt!

However, being a Vietnamese citizen, Nhung cannot just travel to the Netherlands like you and me. First, she needs to get a Schengen tourist visa, which is not very easy to get when you are from a 'poor' country. As I have written before, the amount of paperwork that has to be handed in to prove that you have the financial means to survive your stay in Europe (i.e., to show that you or your guarantors are relatively wealthy, so governments don't need to fear that you will stay and work illegally) is impressive. Moreover, the visa is expensive (three weeks' salary), and the application has to be made in person. That is no problem when you live in or near Hanoi or Ho Chi Minh City, where the embassy and the consulate are located, but it is highly inconvenient when you live in central Vietnam. If you do not feel like a bus or train journey that lasts more than 24 hours (obviously not very practical when you have a busy job), you have no choice but to get on a plane. And so it was that, after four months, I returned to Saigon by airplane, to visit the Dutch consulate and apply for a tourist visa for my girlfriend.
It was a beautiful Monday morning. We were both slightly nervous. We had breakfast in the narrow alleyway where we stayed. As anywhere in Vietnam, all around Saigon you can see people making food on portable stoves or grills on the street or pavement, and other people eating it while sitting on tiny plastic chairs. This street food tends to be better and much cheaper than the food you get in tourist restaurants. For a mere 10,000 dong (approximately $o.60) each, we had a plate of fried rice, with egg or meat. After we had finished eating our breakfast, we went to a nearby cafe for a cup of coffee. As I wanted to look as neat as I could, I accepted the offer of a local boy to polish my shoes.



We took a taxi to the consulate, located in a high office building in the vicinity of Saigon's Catholic cathedral. One of the things that most people who have never visited Southeast Asia do not realise is that its main cities are modern metropolises, filled with skyscrapers, state-of-the-art architecture, neon-lit streets, trendy Japanese and French restaurants, shiny SUVs and expensive department stores. As such, they are reminiscent of cities such as Tokyo, Shanghai and New York. That applies not only to Kuala Lumpur and Singapore, but also to Bangkok, Jakarta, Ho Chi Minh City and even, increasingly, Phnom Penh. Most of these cities have one or a couple of wealthy districts, where the urban upper and middle class work, shop and go out - seemingly oblivious to the great poverty that characterises life in other parts of the city.
We entered the office building. The floor and walls of the main hall were made of shining marble. We took the elevator to the ninth floor, where the consulate was located. It was hardly more than a small office. A bored security guard was sitting on a chair next to the entrance. He looked at us suspiciously, but did not say anything. We entered the hall, which was as small as your average student room. On the walls were posters with cliche images of tulips, windmills, Delft blue pottery and Miffy (Nijntje); in the corner, a TV showed a Dutch propaganda video. Queen Beatrix waved at us encouragingly. There were two office windows. Apart from us, there was a Dutchman, who was about to return to his country. He had just passed by to say goodbye, and give the lady at the window and her colleagues a box of chocolates. There were also two Vietnamese people, who had come to apply for a visa for one of them. The other seemed to be more interested in our visa application than in his friend's, judging from his shameless staring and eavesdropping.



We did not have to wait long. We went to the window, greeted the Vietnamese lady, and handed her the documents. Nhung's voice suddenly became very soft. She hardly dared look the woman in the eye, and used very polite language. The woman looked at her authoritatively. Her voice was sharp, her sentences short. I could not understand most of her words, but the tone of her voice was obvious. There was a significant difference in power and status between the two of them. The future of one of them depended on the other's willingness to submit her documents to those in charge of the decision. They knew it, and acted accordingly. 'Why do you fly to Moscow first?' she asked, angrily and, apparently, not understanding. 'Because we have a transit there...' 'Hm!' was her only response. (As if we could afford a direct flight...!) 'We may call you later, and you may be required to come back for an additional interview,' she informed Nhung. 'Yes, I understand. But as you see, we live in Hoi An, and I have to go back tomorrow to supervise exams. So in case you want to interview me, could you please contact me soon?' Nhung asked. 'We take the time we need! When we call you, you have to come here! It doesn't matter where you live. If we want an additional interview with you, you had better make it here. Period!' Her eyes were looking at Nhung piercingly. She reminded me of an eagle looking at a little rabbit.

I do not think she was an unfriendly person per se. I even have the feeling she was quite sympathetic to us, even though she did not show it. But she was playing her part well. Carefully instructed by her employer, the Dutch ministry of foreign affairs, she behaved as her job required her to behave: in an authoritative way, to the point of being downright rude. And, as such, completely in accordance with a state ideology that perceives non-Western visitors as potential parasites and threats to 'our' national unity and collective well-being, imaginary though it is. 'So you want to go to Holland? So you think you won the jackpot? Who the hell do you think you are, that we would allow you a visit to our beautiful land of milk and honey?' - that is the message her behaviour and tone conveyed, nothing less.

'So how do you know him?' she asked, as if it were any of her business. 'He also lives in Hoi An, and works at the same university as me,' Nhung replied. The woman looked at me. Out of nowhere, a friendly smile appeared on her face. All of a sudden, she didn't look like an angry primary school teacher anymore, but became a loving aunt. She switched to English: 'So you work here?' 'Yes, I do. I teach Japanese at Phan Chau Trinh University in Hoi An,' I replied. 'Would you like to register here?' 'Perhaps later, when we come back in September,' I said. She nodded, seemingly accepting. Then she continued talking to Nhung. The smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, and the tone of her voice changed completely. I know few actors who are able to switch between different emotions as effortlessly as this woman. She really was well conditioned. Authoritative and strict to Vietnamese visa applicants, friendly and polite to Dutch citizens.

In the end, institutionalised hostility notwithstanding, our application went well. They only required one extra document, which they allowed us to send by fax. Last Thursday, we received a phone call, and we were informed that the visa had been approved. Thanks to my parents' willingness to act as guarantors and submit pay slips, mainly, for in the end that is the most important criterion: money. No need for an additional interview, thank God. Hopefully, this week, one of Nhung's Saigonese friends will go to the consulate to pick up the passport, and send it to us. This August, then, we will visit the Netherlands. I am very much looking forward to it. But I do hope most people in the Netherlands will be a bit more welcoming and friendly than our government officials abroad. After all, I do hope my girlfriend will get a good impression of my country.