It came the
day in early September 2013 that I was sitting at office and my mobile rang and
Hang was on the phone. She sounded very sad and all she was saying was
"the baby is already there". I was in shock. I did not know what had happened,
why she did not sound happy. Asked her what's wrong, what has happened? She
said that there was an accident, and the baby has virtually "fallen out of
her" in front of the house while she was preparing to get to a taxi during
the first signs of labor. The baby was alive and seemed well, she said. It is
at another hospital. I was pushing her for more information, could not believe
why the baby was brought to another hospital. "Where are you?" I
asked. "At the FV Hospital" she replied. A doctor took over the phone
and explained to me that my wife is in shock. I shall not worry, the baby is
not in another hospital but in another ward. Mahina was on the intensive care
unit for observation and checks. I shall not worry. She had initially been
brought to a nearby hospital to ensure she receives immediate attention. The
taxi driver had refused to bring them, so they had jumped on a
motorbike…Vietnam style!
Departing
from the new terminal for the first time - on the way to see our daughter for
the first time
I changed
my tickets, and finished the week at office. A few days later I was departing
for the first time from the new terminal at Ngurah Rai Airport which was opened
just before the APEC summit. There was an hour of delay at KL airport and I
could not wait to see my baby. The Vietnamese prostitutes and a few other
guests at the gates were annoying. I was so happy that soon I'd be giving my
family a better social environment that Ho
Chi Minh City. There were heavy turbulences and I was
already afraid I may die on the flight. From Tan Son Nhat airport I drove straight
away to the hospital. To the right and left girls with sexy thighs on
motorbikes were driving parallel to the taxi; the usual picture on Saigon’s
streets. Arriving on an evening in the city always remembers me those crazy
years. But today my only thought was with my daughter and my wife to be. When I
arrived in the room it smelled like cigarette smoke. Hang was in the bathroom
and smoked. It annoyed me. But this is her. She asked me whether I would like
to see the baby. "Of course", I replied. She led me to the infants' intensive
care unit, and taught me the code I would need to enter at the electronic
door-lock. Then, there was a second door where we had to ring a bell. The nurse
opened the door. We needed to get dressed in blue gowns and wear face-masks.
The first baby we passed was a prematurely born one, and it looked so skinny,
almost resembling a skeleton, in an incubator, with life-support systems attached.
I was shocked to see it and praying for it to grow strong and healthy. In the
second bed then there was Mahina. She was sleeping when we arrived. I took her
on my arm, and there she way sleeping. It was such a beautiful feeling to hold
her, and have her. I needed to remember the moment I received Hang's phone call
a few days earlier, and the worst I had feared. When she woke up she looked at
us. I gave her a bottle of milk that the nurse had prepared. When she continued
her sleep, and we put her back to her bed, there was a motion in her face the
resembled a smile. We took a photo of it. There was lots of trouble with the
insurance and the office in Vietnam had assisted. Here I could feel that the
much I was earlier fed up by Vietnam in general, the bond with the people I
used to work with in this country was really close. And there are friends who
one can really rely on, and friends that would also be able to rely on me.
There were still a few tests that needed to be done and I was worried about the
results. But the doctor explained to me that there is no reason to worry, and
that if our baby was in a condition as the pre-mature baby next to her, then we
could worry. We had a strong girl, we believed, and from now on our mind was in
peace.
First meeting
Mahina at the ICU at VF Hospital, she was sleeping
Tiny room
Hang had been living at for the last few years
“food
therapy” a simple Vietnamese dish cooked by my mother in law – caramelized
pork, steamed beans, a pumpkin ‘canh’ and rice
After he
got his German passport I thought he needs a beefsteak
(Boi and Hang at Diem
Son, Nguyen Trai Street)
The boys at
the pool in Phu My Hung,…
…soon
they’d have a real beach to play
myself taking time for an apple crumble with
cream and an iced latte with view on the Duc Ba church. It would be one of the
last occasions for a long time to indulge in Saigon’s coffee scene
We had lots
of paper work to do. The neighbors were shocked, because in Vietnam the first
month after birth is regarded strictly as rest time for the new mother, and she
is not supposed to leave the house. Instead, we were commuting between the tiny
room in district 7, the Justice Office, and consulate general, and the
hospital. We had our papers for the marriage ready by now, and needed to get
this done within 3 weeks, we needed a birth certificated for our baby, and also
overseas birth certificated and passports for our children. It was an absolute
red-tape marathon that I had managed to time extremely well. We didn’t need to
consult a single lawyer, and I had also done most of the required translations
myself.
The lady at
the consulate commented that we have two “well educated boys”, and that usually
the Vietnamese have no education and last time two kids were abusing the ambassador’s
sofa at a battle field for a pillow-fight.” She commented that being attended
by the Vietnamese interpreter that was present for my wife, and I was once more
shocked about the attitudes of diplomatic staff. Not sure whether once needs to
understand them because they are dealing with so many people that seek
advantage or whether they are just the best example of very common and
conservative upper middle class people who are actually not made for a life in
such country and live in their bubble. I thought it was quite cool for those
parents that they could tell their kids were doing a pillow fight at the
consulate. Declarations were made, birth certificates and passports requested.
The latter should be ready in a couple of weeks.
Then, there
was the test at the psychiatric clinic for our marriage on the Vietnamese side,
during which I was so nervous that I forgot my mother’s birth date and could
not calculate the age of my father based on his birth date. But the lady at the
admin-counter had overcharged me anyhow called me “sweetie”, so that was
nothing to worry. We received our paper that stated that we are both “sane”.
During the interview with the lady at the Justice Office, Hang had made some
last-minute changes to our story, and has whispered those into my ear while she
was leaving the interview desk and I was being called in. We were warned, not
to talk to each other. I replied all questions to my best knowledge and belief.
We did not pay and bribes or speed-up fees as so many do, and I had the feeling
that it is all about sympathy. Speaking Vietnamese has always worked and gone a
long way in the county. There was a bit of any issue with a law-change and the acknowledgement
of paternity for Boi, that the department head had questioned to be legal. I
explained him the situation back then and was extremely persistent remaining in
front of his glass cubicle when he did not want to answer any further
questions. I was pointing at his signature and said, that he had made a binding
decision back then. He mentioned we may get trouble at with country’s
authorities. I told him that at my country all had been arranged in the same
way, and is already legal. He gave up. One paper was missing, and I had
produced it within a day. In 21 days we shall come back for the “result”. They
had even agreed to change the date, because I needed to go back to Bali for
work and once more fly to Saigon for the official marriage and to pick-up the
whole family to our new home. I was confident, all was alright, but still a bit
worried they could deny for whatever reason, or ask for further documents in
the meantime. In such a country where the government decides everything, one
has not the best confidence and does not feed protected or empowered through
the law or the administration.
Arriving at
DPS Airport with all our belongingings to start a new (big chapter in) life
Our new
home in Denpasar, big from the outside, small inside, but it is new,
well-priced and in a nice and quiet neighborhood, close to the schools, the
office and everywhere. I was lucky to find such nice place
About three
weeks later I came to Saigon again, this time with an empty baby seat and with
the mission to get the marriage done and to pick-up the family. We picked up
our children’s passport and got an exit-visa for our baby. We went to the
Justice Office for our “result” of our marriage application. While other
couples usually come well-dressed and often with family to take a picture with
a bundle of flowers under the Ho Chi Minh Statue, we came in jeans and t-shirt.
We were seated in the corner for the marriage, and asked to both sign the
certificate. After we had done so, the official congratulated us and said
“that’s it”. We looked at each other, were surprised how fast it went, thanked
him and went out to the street to have an ice tea on the plastic chairs of the
small stall of the old lady opposite. That was on a Monday. On the following
Friday we boarded SIA flight to Denpasar and would from now on live together as
a family and at our new home.
Potato
salad following my mother’s recipe with sausage, served on the ground until we
finally had a table…
we were
equipping the empty house week by week with a few more pieces of furniture
Our family
van, rented over the years for so much money that we’d better have bought it,
dirty as always, and here near Sindhu beach for a standup-paddle session
We arrived
at DPS airport with more bags then we could carry, all our belongings, a baby
carrier, and when we reached the house late night there was nothing more than a
fridge, one mattress, a cooking stove, a water dispenser and a bit of food I
had bought. We needed to build everything from the scratch, with the two boys
attending new schools and a one month old baby. We ate the first two month on
the floor, looking for a nice dining table, which had for me a big meaning
since having breakfast together, at least on a weekend, is an important ritual
for a family, I believe. Chaotic weeks and month followed, with much work,
little sleep, changing domestic helpers, my family’s first Ogo Ogo parade.
There was a group of girls running towards us. They carried smaller girls who
were screaming and had their eyes turned up, so that only the white was
visible. They were in trance. Hang got so scared, that she ran into a small
shop to hide behind the fridge. She was crying and it took me five minutes to
convince her she’s safe and make her come out of the shop again. Bali brought a
lot of new cultural experience for all of us, and most for my family since it
was all new to them. Getting accepted in international school by the peers was
a challenge for our older one, and the younger one got challenged by the fact
that his pre-school means actually learning in addition to playing. It was a
chaotic time, with language chaos at home, with Saturday nights spent at the
hospital for vaccinations, with the afternoon spent on the beach in Sanur or in
Kuta, and we started to do a few first day-trips in the island, which were
quite tiring for all of us, especially the baby. Richard visited us from
Australia, and I think we were very bad hosts at that time, having to offer
little and not yet knowing the best things to do on the island since the
previous year had meant more work than life. I went on another business trip,
with little confidence this time, and we were preparing for a trip to Singapore
to collect a one-year visa that would allow us to re-enter Indonesia and to
extend from here.
With
daytrips such as a visit to Mount Batur…
…driving
down into the caldera for a hot bath in the natural spring on a rainy day…
… we slowly
started to explore the island together and …
...everyone
started to realize to which beautiful place we had come to live at
On a photo
stop visit with Richard to Tanah Lot temple – coming back for the first time in
8 years I was shocked what commercial place the path to the temple has become,
with jeans shops and restaurants
Trekking to
the peak of Mount Batur with Rich...
‘Chris the
Doc’ was also there for a few days, but I saw him only for a dance at Uluwatu
and later for a day on our former boss’ piece of land atop the Uluwatu cliffs
Driving to
Ubud and observing local people in the countryside … here swimming in the
rivers
Ubud which
has become a Gobal Village and is now as overrun by tourism as much as the South
The boys at
Ulun Danu Temple...
...and me with the girls
…and upon a
day at the botanical garden trying the tree-top
Us at the
entrance of Goa Gajah, many people mistake Hang for a Japanese
Hang and
Mahina at Kuta Beach for a sunset
We’ve spend
some late afternoons on Sanur Beach with Satay and Bakso for dinner
The boys
keen on the floating devices for rent
Sanur for
lunch break from office – the Sky being “Sanur blue”
Our first
Ogo Ogo parade with our neighbors at Waturrengong Street
Be
fake-surfing at Poppies Lane in Kuta…he would practice on a real waves in a few
months from now
Be trying body-boarding for the first time
The Moon of
Pejeng in a Temple near Ubud … a gift from Vietnam
I made
Saturday morning’s “father’s days” with surfing or standup-paddle sessions
to
balance from long weeks at office
