I'm home safely in the United States, but it wasn't easy, and for awhile, I wasn't sure if immigration wanted to let me return.
I knew the flights, themselves, wouldn't be a picnic. The actual flying time was 25 hours, but with layovers, I was on the road more than 30. That's the price one pays for a 10,000 mile journey, so I'm not complaining.
While flying home, I anticipated a lengthy encounter with immigration and that's exactly what I got. It makes sense. After all, I was gone almost two months wandering around Southeast Asia, an area known for drug production.
My first glimpse of what was in store for me back in America started in Hanoi, when the airline wanted to know how long I'd stay in Bangkok and to prove I had a return ticket. When I left Bangkok, the woman at the check-in desk frowned as she looked at my passport. She then asked me to write out my home address, which I assume was meant to test me because I think she had the information on her monitor.
The real fun occurred in Chicago. The airport has a new computer system designed to speed up the immigration process. A passenger scans his passport and, if everything checks out, moves into an expedited line. When I scanned my passport and printed my receipt, a large "x" covered my picture. I knew then there would be no speedy line for me.
The clerk in passport control asked me a host of questions. She seemed particularly intrigued by why I had spent so much time in Southeast Asia and covered so much ground.
After finishing the friendly interrogation, I moved over to customs. Normally, I'm waved through without any questions or even a glance at my backpack. Not this time.
I was sent alone to an area with a table and an interrogator. He was excellent. Had I been hiding something I'm sure he would have tripped me up. He would have made Perry Mason proud.
The gentleman seemed to purposely want to be confrontational and rattle me because he asked a series of rapid-fire questions in an annoyed manner like he didn't believe a word I was saying and couldn't stand to be in my presence - "What's your job?" ... "What do you teach?" ... "What's the name of your school?" ... "Why did you travel for so long with just a backpack? You've got to have more luggage." ... "Why would you want to go to Southeast Asia?" ... "What did you think of Vietnam?"
Of course, he asked me multiple times if I was carrying drugs. At one point, I said I didn't use drugs, to which he replied, "That doesn't mean you aren't transporting them."
Throughout the interview, he asked questions more than once in a different way. At one point, he studied my passport and asked me where I had obtained my Vietnamese visa. The information was printed on the visa, but I think he wanted to see if I could recall the information.
"So you paid $100 for the visa?" he asked in an offhand manner, to which I replied, "No, I paid $60." I'm sure he knew how much I paid but, again, wanted to rattle me.
Then, he asked me to tell him some places I'd visited in Thailand. I listed several and said I then crossed over into Laos.
He cut me off. "You took that two-day party boat." Actually, I did take a two-day boat down the Mekong River to Luang Prabang, but I disagreed with his characterization of the ride.
"It wasn't a party boat," I said. "It was much too hot to be drinking on the river."
That annoyed him a little bit. "Plenty of young people get loaded," he said. I wasn't going to argue because he held my fate in his hands.
After what seemed like 20 minutes of questions, he opened my pack. I expected him to methodically check everything, but he just pulled out a couple of items and entered some information into a computer. I guess the real test was the interview.
Even though the experience was a bit intimidating, I wasn't at all annoyed. Had the situation been reversed, I might have done the same thing with a backpacker who spent almost two months in Southeast Asia.
I cleared customs, but I wasn't done yet with the intense scrutiny. Next, I had to go through the check point to take my remaining flight from Chicago to Atlanta. The agent scanned my bag. Afterward, another agent walked up and, in a very polite manner, asked if the bag belonged to me.
I said yes. "Something doesn't look right," he said.
The agent examined my pack and pulled out several items, including four masks I'd bought. "We'd like to rescan your bag and scan the masks separately."
Again, I wasn't at all offended and thanked him for his vigilance. "Most people complain," he said. "It's nice to get a compliment." I'm all for anything that makes flying safer.
The rescan seemed to satisfy their concerns, but the agent performed one final test. He swabbed two of my masks with some kind of strip and ran the strips through a machine. I'm not sure if he was checking for bomb residue or drug residue, but I passed the test.
There's nothing I'd rather do than travel, but I must admit I get a thrill out of the return trip, knowing that I'll be arriving in a familiar place where I understand the culture, the legal system, and can call someone if I have a problem.
The flight landed late in Atlanta at almost 1 a.m., but my Uncle Ben and Aunt Cinda were waiting outside the terminal with smiles on their faces. Aside from the familial connection, they are two of my favorite people in the world because they are extremely interesting, generous, and great hosts.
When I finally dropped my exhausted body into the back seat, Cinda handed me a goodie bag with water and snacks. She'd thought of everything. For the first time in nearly two months, I could completely let my guard down and allow someone else to take over.
Now, I'm back in Dalton and my trip has officially ended. It was a great summer. There were lots of high points and only one low - my getting sick toward the end of my time in Cambodia. At one point as my fever continued to rise, I seriously considered skipping Vietnam and heading back to Bangkok for treatment. Fortunately, it didn't come to that because I thoroughly enjoyed my two plus weeks in Vietnam.
People have already asked me what was my favorite country. I'd have to put Cambodia and Vietnam on about the same level. The people in Cambodia are some of the friendliest, most welcoming I've ever met, especially considering the hardships they've endured over the last 60 years, but the Vietnamese are also quite friendly, and it's hard to beat the food and scenery.
Even though I've got to head back to work, I hope that my blog might inspire someone to check out a foreign locale. I promise you won't be disappointed. As I often tell people, if a traveler encounters good things, like witnessing the sunrise at Angkor Wat, or hardships, like losing a passport for several hours, it still provides some entertaining stories.
Thanks for all of your e-mails and good wishes during my almost two-month journey. A few kind words go a long way when a traveler is thousands of miles from home.
It's nice to be back.
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