But I'll get to that in a moment.
I had four realistic options for flying from Hoi An down to Saigon. Now, Hoi An doesn't have an airport, but it is only about 30-45 minute drive to Danang's airport, which is the third or fourth busiest in Vietnam. Either 8 am, noon, 445pm, or 9pm. 8am and 9pm were too early/late respectively, and I wasn't sure that I'd be able to make the noon flight if I had some last minute alterations to get done--so, late-afternoon it was. Hindsight, of course, says I should have taken the noon flight.
So, what did I do with my half-day or so, needing to catch a 3pm cab to the airport?
I hopped on a motorbike and went to Cua Dai beach--the one closest to Hoi An. I would have loved to have been there for sunrise, but I could never get up early enough to go there (a shame, since it would have been spectacular). At around 9 or 10 in the morning, the place was relatively deserted. It was too hot for the Vietnamese, and the western tourists hadn't come out yet, so I largely had the place to myself. Sat on a plastic red chair provided by a drink vendor, and caught up on some reading, and regretted having to leave Hoi An.
Eventually made my way back to Hoi An town around noon or so, and I wandered around Hoi An, looking for some food. Along the way, managed to stumble into a conversation with an American family from Miami who were just passing by on a cruise that started in Singapore and would end up in Seoul--the oldest kid was about to start Boston College, but wanted to go to Georgetown's School of Foreign Service, but was unfortunately turned down.
Stopped in at a local place, and ran into two girls that I had met earlier, so I sat down and ate with them, while drinking a fresh beer--usually that would be a mistake, drinking and flying, but I sure could have used one later on during the flight.
I caught my cab, and was off to go see DAD--Danang's rather unique ICAO airport code. Danang's airport, located smack dab in the middle of Danang, kind of like how La Guardia is in New York, is also the former airfield used by the US and the South Vietnamese during their combat operations during the war. At one point, it was the busiest single runway airport in the world (San Diego's Lindbergh Field now holds that title). Concrete arch-shaped hangars dating from the war days are easily visible from the terminal, as are what appear to be some other war relics in the form of former base buildings that have yet to be torn down, because they are located on the opposite side of the airfield from the passenger terminal.
I'm dropped off and enter the chaos all too prevalent in Vietnamese public facilities. I am cut in line several times, before finally being aggressive and get to the front of the (short) line myself. I make eye contact with the girl behind the check-in desk, which comes in handy, as just as I am ready to present my passport and info, a lady comes out of nowhere and takes my place at the desk. Fortunately, the eye contact comes in handy, as the check-in lady tells the cutter that I was there first and that she has to wait behind me. "Thank god" I thought to myself (which shows you just how little hope I had in terms of this being an orderly operation).
Check in, and enter the secure waiting room area. For whatever reason, even though people are fanning themselves and parking themselves in any sort of shade they can find, the Vietnamese don't seem to realize that drawing the shades on the terminal windows would probably cool off the building tremendously--as it was boiling in there.
Meanwhile, kids are running all over the place, screaming, yelling, and doing god knows what, and I soon find out that my flight has been delayed by about 30 minutes or so. Of course--bad things always happen in threes--annoying kids? check. boiling waiting room? check. delayed flight? check. Fortunately, the annoying kids are all going to Hanoi on the flight that was supposed to leave after us, but is actually leaving before us.
As to be expected, the 30 minute delay turns into an hour delay, which means that the time we board is the time that we are supposed to have been landing at Tan Son Nhat. At this point the weather is clear, but the longer we wait, the increased likelihood of us running into some storms on the way to SGN.
For those of you that were alive in the 60s or are fans of post WWII US History, then the name Tan Son Nhat (or Nhut) should be familiar to you--it was the name of the major air base just on the then-outskirts of Saigon, and at one point was the busiest airport in the world. Though bombed and attacked by the North Vietnamese during the war, post fall of Saigon, the airfield was repaired and restored to its original purpose--serving as Saigon's primary airport--a role which it still fills (albeit for not much longer--it is due to be replaced by a larger airfield in the coming years, but will still be open to domestic flights, similar to how Don Mueang--another airfield used during the Vietnam War--serves Bangkok).
So, in flying from Danang to Saigon, I was flying the former South Vietnamese domestic trunk route, using the exact same airfields (I know, it's nerdy, but if you are an aviation history buff like I am, then it's cool).
We board the aircraft, and I see that Danang is in the process of building a brand new (and much needed) airport terminal to serve as the gateway to the developments being built farther down the shore. Visible from the aircraft are the vertical parentheses shaped concrete hangars lining the terminal that appear to be relics from the 60s/70s. A pair of Vietnam Airlines A330's (one in the skyteam scheme) are parked on the tarmac, indicating the growth of domestic traffic on some popular routes. As we roll down the runway for takeoff, further evidence of the former air base presents itself in the form of old warehouse buildings and bigger hangars.
The first half of the flight passes without incident, and we are treated to a spectacular sunset (a spectacular sunset? in the tropics? nah), as the orange sun passes between the various cloud layers that serve as portholes. Unfortunately, the soundtrack, provided by a middle aged woman hocking loogies behind me, wasn't so spectacular.
We then start passing through the various cloud layers on descent into Tan Son Nhat and it is pitch dark outside as we go through some turbulence.
Minutes later, my worst fears are confirmed. 15 minutes or so from landing, with the lights of Saigon and the surrounding communities visible, lightning begins to illuminate the sky. Looking back, it was indeed an amazing sight, but enjoying a scenic view was the last thing on my mind as I passed through an electrical storm on a giant metal lightning rod. My palms were sweaty and I was freaking out, and the last 15 minutes of the flight seemed to last for an hour. I told my seatmates--a young scottish couple on their way to Hong Kong--that I would get the first round that night if we landed safely.
I knew Tan Son Nhat was an urban airport--similar to La Guardia in that it is surrounded by the city--but nothing can prepare you until you've landed there for the first time. Looking out the window, it seems as if you are going to plow into some apartment buildings. That coupled with the always bumpy approach doesn't make for a very relaxing last few minutes.
We land, and it feels like the pilot has tried to stomp on the runway. Taxi in, past more of the concrete parentheses hangars, and that's when the rain starts to fall. Of course, because I'm a low cost carrier, we don't actually use an airbridge but park on the tarmac and have to take the airstairs--getting wet in the process, but I'm glad to get off the plane, so the rain really doesn't bother me all that much--and take the bus to the domestic terminal past some of the various 777's and A330's being refueled and reloaded for trips further afield. Of course, getting on the bus was a process in and of itself, since there were only two buses for about 150 or so people, and the Vietnamese clustered around the two exits, even though there was plenty of space in the middle, which meant that I had to elbow my way through to the empty space. Getting off the bus wasn't a problem, provided you were capable of some mobility and didn't mind getting getting pushed forward by a surging crowd.
In the U.S., a thunderstorm with visible lightning would be grounds to temporarily close the airport (mainly to protect the ground staff). Not in Vietnam. Airport ops continue as normal. To be fair, though, they probably have a lot more experience in dealing with tropical storms because of the seasonal nature of them (otherwise, they'd have to cancel all flights during the rainy season between 3-8pm--which isn't going to happen).
Hop off the bus and hello baggage claim chaos, or at least what I thought was chaos. Real chaos awaits outside the domestic baggage claim in the form of the "line" for taxis, and by "line" I mean general free-for-all. Taxis pull up and whoever is first to hop in or put their stuff in claims it. Shockingly, this isn't the most efficient process--as demonstrated by the actions of one vietnamese man who sat down in the passenger seat of one taxi, while another guy had just started to put his luggage in the back--the guy in the seat, even though he sat down after the other guy had put one of his bags in the back, refused to budge, and the bag-holder was forced to unload his stuff, and look for another taxi. Thank god I decided to stick with my rowmates and share a taxi into the main cheap hotel area, Pham Ngu Lao, or I would probably still be stuck there.
I would like to think that the taxi situation is a lot more orderly outside the international terminal, considering it is the leading port of entry for foreigners into Vietnam and is served by Lufthansa, Air France, and United, but it could just as easily be a cultural immersion experience as soon as you step off the plane. "Welcome to Vietnam--elbow pads not included."
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