Within 20 minutes after landing, I
gained entry to Vietnam through the Immigration Entry Station at Hanoi's Noibai
International Airport. Having been in transit for 20-plus hours, I was
anxious to find my driver to Hanoi. Having never been to North Vietnam
before, I had no idea where Hanoi was in relation to Hanoi's Noibai
International Airport or how long it would take to travel between these two
points. I had reserved the services of a driver before leaving the U.S.
to ensure an uneventful arrival to my hotel after the lengthy
trip.
I recognized my driver because he was
holding a piece of cardboard to which had been affixed a white piece of paper
on which my first and last names were spelled in bold black letters. He
wore no uniform; just plain street clothes. When I approached the driver
-- relieved that he was there to meet me -- he did not seem to believe that I was his passenger.
He did not speak a single (emphasis
on the word "single") word of English and politely, but resolutely,
showed no interest in so doing. From his facial expressions and hand
movements, he acted like he thought he would be picking up two people;
one for both my first and last names - at least that is what I
understood from our non-verbal communication. I got out my
passport. I don't know if the driver knew what it was, but I showed him
my picture and pointed to my first and last names, which he compared with the
letters written on his sign. The passport did the trick. I was guided
out of the terminal and motioned to wait on the sidewalk next to the curb while he
retrieved the car. He disappeared into the asphalt parking lot across the street. Within five minutes, he drove up to me in an unmarked,
private car and we drove off - to where I was not certain until we reached our
destination 40-plus minutes later.
Not detoured by his inability
to speak a single English word to me (and, not apologetic for my inability to
speak a single Vietnamese word to him), after about 10 minutes into the long car
ride to Hanoi, I tried to start up a conversation. I inquired of the
driver what the name of the river was we were passing. He
did not say a word, but looked at me in his rear view mirror, shaking his head
from left to right and briefly holding up his hands making the universal gesture to communicate "I don't understand."
He
was a nice enough driver. We just had no common verbal language
between us and few universal gestures and expressions.
When we eventually arrived
at the hotel, I stepped out of the car. He retrieved my luggage from the
trunk of his car.
He then turned to get back into his car to leave. However, before he got
into his car, I handed him a U.S.
$5.00 bill as a tip for his services. (Why U.S. $5.00? The ride
had cost me U.S. $50.00, so I figured a 10 percent tip or U.S. $5.00 would be
appropriate.) Again, although we could not speak a single word to one
another, he communicated to me that he understood and appreciated the gratitude expressed
by my tip: His eyes got as big as a
quarter, each. It was at that moment that I learned that a U.S. $5.00
bill was a lot of money in Vietnam (circa 2008) and, perhaps, too much of tip
for a 40-minute ride from the airport to Hanoi. There always is that first lucky (or unlucky) service provider on any
trip to whom you give too much or too little tip-wise. My driver on
this ride was that service provider for this trip.