The next morning my alarm woke me up and not even a minute later, while I was still in bed, I hear somebody knocking on my door. When I opened I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was the driver, pointing to his watch. I told him that it was not 7 o’clock yet and that I still wanted my 15 minutes before it was. He must have asked for me at the hotel and when he found out that I was not staying there he tried the guesthouse where he found me. A real stalker I tell you! And he even had the guts to wake me up before the time we agreed to meet. I really took disliking to this guy.

When I was ready I first needed him to take me to the immigration office to try to recover my lost piece of paper. They were supposed to be open at 7AM but I still woke them up when we arrived there at 7:10. I asked the young guy in the office for my paper and he jumped on his motorbike and disappeared… What??.. Ten minutes later he was back telling me to wait a few minutes in very broken English. I didn’t believe that my hand-written paper would for some reason be moved outside the office so I was trying to explain slowly and in even simpler way what I wanted. He seemed to understand better this time but said that he didn’t have any paper from me and asked me to wait a few minutes again. We were apparently waiting for somebody.

Twenty minutes later there was still nobody coming. I needed to be in Moc Bai at 9AM and the 38km ride there takes ages. At that point I decided to leave the paper wherever it was and go. The young officer was in his office and my driver went to the toilet, which gave me some space to examine the glassed front counter. In the middle of it there was a paper resembling the one I was after. I walked there and reached for it through a little open window. And really, it was the paper I came for here. Hurray! I put it into my bum bag and not telling the officer that I found it I announced to him that I had to leave. I mean if he didn’t know that the paper was there he wouldn’t miss it while there was the other possibility that he knew but wanted to keep it, which happened to me here in Vietnam with other paper full of addresses before.

By then he was almost begging me to stay as whoever we were waiting for was still not there. I explained that I had to be in Moc Bai police at 9AM and so I really couldn’t wait anymore. As I shook his hand and put on my helmet he points to the other side of the street where an uniformed girl was riding her motorcycle.  “OK, that’s who we have been waiting for! She must be an interpreter.” I knew immediately. When she stopped next to us I explained that I came for a paper of mine but that they didn’t have it apparently and that I needed to leave. It still took at least another 5 minutes before they cleared up their things. What things!? I really cannot answer this question to you my dear reader - sorry. They just really love to solve problems where there are none and arrive with no solution at the end of it anyway. As long as it takes some time I suppose…

The 80 minute ride back was again quite horrible thanks to the highly uncomfortable seat that these bikes have, thanks to the things I was carrying on my shoulders and thanks to the driver’s almost constant use of horn. I arrived to Moc Bai with my bum feeling like I had just ridden 2000 kilometers on my bike. I didn’t have a drink since the previous evening and I didn’t eat as I was running short of my backup US dollars and I still couldn’t withdraw from my card as I could not be sure whether or not I would be allowed into Vietnam with my bike. Nobody exchanges Dong outside Vietnam. I was also not sure how much I would need for a bribe for Mr. Minh. For all these reasons I couldn’t buy anything and my water filter was with the bike.

This time I went straight to the police building and yes, Mr. Minh was there and even uniformed this time. They sat me down and the policeman who I met yesterday sat against me. Mr. Minh joined us shortly with an interpreter – this time a female. At least I was happy about that as the other interpreter felt real sly. The policeman opened my file and after being instructed by Mr. Minh he filled in one of the forms again with new dates on it. When that was finished they gave it to me and told me that next I had to go back to Tay Ninh traffic police with it and then come back to pick up my bike. “Wow, that was really easy this time.” I thought. Was it because Mr. Minh appreciated my effort for the past week or because so many people already knew about my problem and him? I wasn’t sure. It could also be that he just wants to put me through some more running around to give me a lesson that I should not have tried to find ways around him and he will not allow the bike in at the end anyway. It is hard to believe – even in a bureaucratic country like Vietnam – that to get a bike in one really has to run between places many dozens of kilometers distant from each other. I’m not sure what to think in this respect.

So it was looking that I had another two long motorbike taxi rides waiting for me today. I was so unbelievably happy to have the first one behind me and now I had to endure twice as much! I hated even the thought. On the other hand though, if that was the last two rides I had to take before being free with my motorbike I was quite happy to do it. I managed to secure a little better bike with slightly softer seat and a driver that didn’t use horn so excessively. Although still quite horrible the ride back to Tay Ninh was better than the one in the morning going in the opposite direction from there.

Back in Tay Ninh police there was nobody there, only TV running in the big conference room in which I talked to the local policemen before. So I sat down on a bench and waited. In about 15 minutes a young policeman I already knew appeared and after I presented him with the new document I had, he took it and disappeared for another 30 minutes. In this time I had an about 11 year old boy trying to sell me some Loto tickets (which you experience everywhere here as soon as you sit somewhere) and when I gestured that I didn’t want any he just reached towards me with an open palm – a gesture that is quite clear internationally. I shook my head and so he, in the effort to clarify what he wanted, showed me a crumpled note and reached out again. I shook my head again and added that I didn’t have any money. The next long minutes were getting more and more uncomfortable having this boy touching me and my things more than I would appreciate and even trying to scare me with gestures for all kinds of ways to get either disfigured in ones face (by cutting and ear or nose) or killed by severe beating, stabbing or gunning. He showed me all of this probably because he thought I didn’t understand what he meant as I was saying and gesturing “OK, great! Go ahead.” and smiling at him. He really started to piss me off when he pretended he would grab my helmet or other things and when he started to make a real close body contact with me. I started to do some quick moves with my arm to make him aware that he could get one if he continued in this pressure and eventually I did slap him on his hand when he again reached to grab me. It visibly surprised him that it hurt and he started showing me some really artificial martial arts fighting postures. I laughed at him again and from that point I was not reacting to anything he said or did. He never approached me closely again which was all I wanted.

When the policemen finally come back to me he informed me that he couldn’t help me on Sunday and that I would have to came on Monday. So I had the driver to take me to the guesthouse where I already spent 2 nights before and now I hope that it would all be easy tomorrow and I could finally start riding again.