sapijantan: Family Life

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