After salvaging about an hour of sleep while being tossed around the back of the night bus, I was the sole traveler dropped off on the road outside of the Hanoi airport at 2:00AM local time. I walked about 15 minutes to make my way inside the terminal and then scope out a place to attempt to sleep. I laid down across a row of seats in the departures lobby, equipped with my night mask, headphones, and travel pillow. Shortly after laying down and getting settled, a family with screaming kids and unconcerned parents sat on the opposite side of my bench, and a man sat right on the seat where my feet were resting. The airport wasn’t packed, it was 4:00AM and there were plenty of empty benches throughout the airport. There must be some cultural differences here, because I would certainly exercise more consideration and mindfulness of others around me than what was afforded to me. I suppose late nights with unusual traveling times and sleeping locations (or the lack thereof) come with the territory of the nomadic life.
Doing my best to manage my frustration and crankiness from the lack of sleep, I worked at a local cafe until it was time to check into my flight. The flight from Hanoi to Bali took about 4 hours, and I spent the time productively between working and scuba certification coursework. Upon arrival, the immigration and customs were much busier than any country I visited on this trip. It took over an hour and a half to get the visa on arrival, pass through immigration, get my luggage, and through customs. Immediately after getting through customs, there was a massive wave of taxi drivers that were overbearing. Even after I found my prearranged driver, still other drivers persistently asked, “Taxi? Taxi? Taxi?” I was appreciative that my hostel for the night helped me arrange transportation from the airport to the hostel in Padangbai, and that my driver was willing to stop at McDonald’s along the way to curb my massive appetite. Back in America, it is very rare for me to eat McDonald’s, but it’s never sounded as good as when you’re hungry and have had anything but American food for months.
The drive to Padang Bai took an hour and a half. I made my way to the hostel, a small place close to the port I would be departing out of the next morning to Gili Trawangan. It had affordable private rooms for $12 per night, which was necessary after the rough night of sleeplessness before. I checked in, met a friendly Greek couple on holiday in the lobby who also was checking in, and we briefly chatted until my exhaustion got the best of me. I cleaned myself up, finished up some work, then knocked out for the night.