Robbed in Vietnam’s Dunes
(aka don’t put all your money in one pouch)
The three of us crouched at the edge of the hotel’s swimming pool, taking great pains to cover ourselves with shadows. One toe found itself immersed in the blue chlorine waters. Then two. And suddenly three bodies stealthily followed suit. A lone star winked from above, sympathetic to our situation.
Just twelve hours ago we had a pocketful of cash and were zipping across Vietnam, but right now we were cold, hungry, penniless and covered with sand. (Hence, the swimming pool bath.)
Until the evening’s unfortunate incident, the Vietnam trip my two best friends and I had was going better than we expected.Our planned itinerary was useless when we landed in Ho Chin Minh; we found out that it was a public holiday and to our dismay, everything was booked solid. Finish, madam! No more! Three days you come back! Three days?!
Thankfully, just as we were about to give up, we strayed into SinhCafe. The petite lady behind the counter re-planned our entire trip in ten minutes, and we were able to spend the next few days crawling in underground tunnels at Cu Chi, dancing aboard a boat full of locals who could not speak much English besides “You Miss Universe, You Miss World and You Miss Earth!” and getting chased by children as we cycled through villages.
In retrospect, we should have been more suspicious and alert when the freckled boy, skin tanned and red from countless hours in the sun, brought us away from the crowd of tourists. Instead, after days of meeting nothing but wonderful and hospitable Vietnamese, we had gushed over how sweet he was in trying to get us a private area to go sand sledding.
We followed him deeper into the dunes. A right here. A left there. A climb, and then a descent. More climbs. Our feet tasted the cold sand with relish as our eyes feasted upon the breathtaking scenery laid before us. The setting sun painted pink hues in the sky, its brush dancing with wisps of white clouds. Before long, we were completely clueless as to where we were.
Before long, we were completely clueless as to where we were.
The freckled boy finally stopped walking when he reached the top of a dune. Taking off his shirt, he disappeared over the other side. My best friends and I clambered up in a panic, only to find him down below, waist-deep in a pool of water full of lotus flowers.
Standing at the top, I remember vividly how our hearts danced on our tongues, squeaking (as teenage girls do) in happiness when we realized the boy was wading in the waters to pick flowers for us.
He would wade out with much difficulty, pluck a lotus, wade back and place it at our feet. By the second lotus, we could see how strenuous it was for him and gestured him to stop, but he persevered on.
Two lotus flowers. Aww! Three lotus flowers. Faith in humanity restored! Three lotus flowers, arranged in a beautiful bouquet.Would you marry me? Three bouquets of lotus flowers later, we were practically speechless and beaming, hearts expanded with so. much. love.
After becoming our photography director for a good five minutes - Jump! Hold flower up ! Lie down! Hug! - the freckled boy held out his hand, “Money?”
We took out our money pouches in obedience, ready to give the boy more than what the driver told us to pay. The freckled boy stood impatiently tapping his feet as we discussed how much to give. When we handed over what we thought was more than sufficient, he scowled and shook his head. “More money. For flowers. US dollars.”
We did not have US dollars. All we had were enough Vietnamese dongs to last two days, and some Singapore dollars.
The freckled boy stepped closer. “No money, no go back.”
The calming silence surrounding us suddenly became deafening. The wide open space of the desert? Constricting. I thought about my family back at home and wondered if they would look for me.
The freckled boy moved another step forward, his hand lunging out to my best friend’s pouch. He peered inside, removed all the money he could find, and deftly jumped over to best friend number two’s. This happened in mere seconds - I was so shocked I only had time to remove my Singapore dollars by the time his fingers molested the insides of my pouch.
Clutching all our money (except the Singapore dollars which I hid in the bands of my pants), he commanded us to open our palms, making sure we were not hiding anything. Satisfied and beaming, he picked up his shirt and said matter-of-factly, “Now we go back.”
He turned and strolled across the sand, whistling. The nerve.
Forty five minutes later, the three of us found ourselves sneaking into a hotel and slipping into its swimming pool.The night was silent and we tried not to make any noise. It was an easy task, really, seeing that none of us had the mood to make any conversations.
Suddenly, the lights surrounding the pool turned on and the shadows we were enveloping ourselves with rushed off into hiding. Our eyes opened in terror as a security guard walked towards us. Guilt-ridden, we swam back to the side and explained to him what had happened earlier.
The guard nodded patiently, and pointed behind some trees when our explanation trailed off, “When you are done swimming, you can use the staff showers there.” He smiled and walked away without waiting for our deluge of gratitude.
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