The Key to Living in Vietnam

 

Actually, there isn’t one…... literally....

I come from a land far, far away, where, when you enter your home (or palace), you insert one key in a Yale lock, open the front door,
et voila! simple - you’re in. During the times I’ve resided in Vietnam, maybe it’s the houses I pick, but the relatively simple procedure of getting into, or for that matter, getting out of my own home, has amounted to a ridiculously complicated affair – almost Mission Impossible status. Sometimes even my hotel.
When I first arrived to live in Hanoi (early noughties), I temporarily stayed in a small tourist hotel. I was, however, public enemy #1 for the young reception-cum security guard, whose overnight shift involved sleeping on a camp bed in the drafty lobby. Most nights, he had to drag himself out of a deep slumber to open the hotel doors to let me in from a night of revelry, usually at some godforsaken hour. After which (much to the relief of the security guard) I moved into a humble studio room. To access this, I had to enter a humble family household, walk through their kitchen and ascend a private stairwell leading to several floors of studios rented out to foreigners. Generally, at 10pm, heavy wrought-iron shutters were yanked across the household’s front entrance, secured with a padlock.

Old School-style entrance part 1

Old school part 2

Old School part 3

Late night food deliveries, or impromptu guests? Forget it. If I went out after 10pm (which I often did), I had to literally fight my way out of my own home: unlock the door, unlock the shutters, drag my bicycle out, lock the door, pull the shutters to, lock the padlock, blah blah blah. I dreaded coming home after a glass too many in the wee hours, a near-impossible feat, balancing my bicycle, unlocking the padlock, pulling open the shutters, etc. The padlock always seemed to be dangling in the most inaccessible position – you had to be a double-jointed contortionist to unlock it.

I then rented an apartment, again, above a Vietnamese family household, but their wrought-iron front door shutters involved not one, but TWO padlocks. Numerous nights, I ended-up marooned outside, sometimes in the rain, trying for eternity to get in. The padlocks were almost impossible to reach, not helped by me being invariably intoxicated (Hanoi was my prime partying era). However, I became quite the accomplished acrobat stretching my hand up very high and then very low behind the shutters.

Old school-style entrance with two padlocks

One night, after what seemed a lifetime of unsuccessfully trying to insert my key in the padlock, I had one of my legendary Empress tantrums and justifiably, shook the shutters like a mad (wo)man. The landlady finally awoke, unlocked the shutters and let me in, concluding my key didn't fit the lock that night, probably, "Because of the rain!"
Another time I couldn’t get in, I ranted:

"Why doesn't this country have simple Yale locks on their doors like back home, rather than all these f@#%$*# locks and shutters?"
To which my (sage) friend replied,
" Probably because your homeland has a soaring burglary rate and Vietnam doesn't."
Hmmmmm.

Fast forward almost two decades later in Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon). Times have changed, huge technical progress has been made and getting into your Vietnamese home has now got more sophisticated. Well that’s the plan…. typically, it’s still a complicated, frustrating matter. Thank the Gods, my partying days are long gone as I would be in severe trouble here too. The entrance to my current boutique serviced apartment block (whoops, Palace) doesn’t have a front door, nor shutters, etc,but instead, an electronically automated garage door, opened by a hand-held remote control owned by all the tenants.

New school: I'm an Empress, get me out of here

Thus, when venturing out, you better make sure you remember to bring your personal remote and that the batteries work. Further, pray that there isn’t a power outage, as with all this considered, you won’t be able to get back into your own home. Almost puts the dampeners on having a good night out, nay, even venturing out for a bottle of water. Another problem with automatic entrance gates and power outages: you’re liable to not being able to get out of your own home during the nighttime. Not ideal if you have unexpected visitors calling and they want to be let in, need to get to the airport for an early morning flight, or The little matter of a fire.
[I was once invited to a private after-hours soiree at a wine bar in Hanoi’s Old Quarter, that had the same such automated front entrance. We were merrily drinking and then it got late and time to call it a night. Except one of Hanoi’s regular power outages struck and we couldn’t get out of the building. Stuck inside for several more hours, what could we do but drink the profits until the power came back on and we could get out. Anyway, I digress]

Then once reaching my third floor apartment, I’m faced with not a lock of sorts on my front door, but a new-fangled electronic keypad, whereby you tap-in your personal six digits to enter – like accessing a safe of sorts. Except, if there’s a power outage, or you forget your personal digits (well, I am of a certain age. Note to self: scribble down the numbers before heading out).

New School: just remember your numbers

Only in Vietnam can it be difficult getting into AND out of your own home, even if you are stone cold sober, let alone after one glass too many. Many women fantasise about Brad Pitt, or "Death by Chocolate" desserts. Me, while living in Vietnam – both in the north and south – I have daydreamed about Yale locks and how I used to be able to enter my own home in one simple step, without having a nuclear meltdown and turning the air a deep shade of blue.