It’s one of those ‘honey, did you check the gas?’ moments. You’ve been riding your scooter for 8,5 hours through terrain where it was not intended for when you suddenly realize you forgot your passport in the hotel. Surely, I can blame the hotel for not giving it back, but in the end it’s my passport and I should have brought it along. Especially in communist Vietnam, especially when you’re 10 minutes away from your new hotel.

Going back the next day would mean 17 hours of hellish ride over a road I had already covered. It would be easier if the passport would come to me. But who could I trust with my passport? And how could I find it back if I didn’t remember the name of the hotel?

I’ll spare you the details, especially of the many conversations that were entirely lost in translation. I thank the kind lady of the ‘Dreams’ hotel in Dalat who arranged everything without me even spending the night there (the hotel was around the corner from where I stayed). The anonymous Indian girl who took the passport of a total stranger when it only could mean trouble (you’ll probably never read this, but only let me pay you dinner for you and your driver. I truly hope you enjoyed it!).

In the end, it was bound to happen one day during this voyage. I’m glad it did and even gladder it ended this way.