Ms. Rosie

​I (mostly) love a good challenge; I’m sure you do too (mostly). So in pursuit of my Vietnam visa, I decided to trek to the consulate to see if someone there could help me. The wall is draped in blooming bougainvillea in all the colors they come in. But the entrance is locked closed. I see a window open and decide whether to shout “Sabadee.” Instead, I decide to walk around the block, case the joint. There’s what seems to be a guardhouse, a fellow on his phone (of course). Most Lao seem to have a small amount of English, but he has none. Google Translate to the rescue, yet again. “I want to check on my visa.” He hasn’t a clue. I keep trying…

Another man appears, a higher-up that speaks good English. I show him the receipt for my application and payment. He says it’s been taking 5 days, sometimes longer, because of the upcoming Tet holiday. He suggests I should change my flight (again). I say it’s too late; I have paid $92 + $59 to change it once, and it’s too late to change it again. I will lose all my money, have to start over.

A nice man, you can tell he’s a problem-solver. He’s. thinking. “Well, maybe Ms. Rosie can help you.” I like the sound of this: “Ms. Rosie.”

He finds Ms. Rosie’s WhatsApp and, sure enough, the logo is a 🌹.

I make my way to a temple, hear chanting inside, sit in the shade outside. I’m hedging my bets I’ll have better luck here, with the Buddha by my side. And sure enough, Ms. Rosie responds within minutes. “Yes, I can help you; I have a friend in the Office of Security, visa division. It will cost 80USD, and you will have it by 4.30 tomorrow.” Sigh. I’ll have it in plenty of time to catch my flight the following day. As my mom used to say, “Well bless your lucky fortunes.” 

She asks for my location, and I say I can meet her at Cafe Toui, where I’m staying. She answers: “It’s quite close. I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

Ms. Rosie is a peach, young and lovely, slim with fancy fingernails. She says she’s Vietnamese but lives in Luang Prabang now. She asks if I’ve visited Vietnam before. I tell her no, but it’s in my history from when I protested the war when I was a boy. “Well, that’s all in the past now,” she replies, and we talk about where I should visit: Halong Bay, Hoi An…

I pay in cash, tell her I don’t need a receipt. Tell her that, for the most part, trust you can tell. She understood the compliment; her smile was so sincere. 

The cost of doing business; the cost of travel. Wherever you go, there you are. Wherever you go, it’s who you know. 

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