Skip to main content

Read Rule Number One Again


“Goooood morning Vietnam!”

As the clock on the wall strikes 6:00 a.m. we’re ready to leap into another day. This is not a radio program being transmitted from the rice patties of Central Vietnam but (my hope) a humorous travel log from our Cenergy Power company retreat in November of 2019.

How do you possibly begin with so many unique and vivid experiences rolled into a ten-day trip in Asia? Well, it’s best I think, if we start with the rules we adopted early in this trip for safety, comfort, and a wide variety of extraordinary travel experiences.

The rules were simple:

Rule #1 - Always follow Doan Hyphuoc Vo (Dr. Vo)
Rule #2 - If you think you are right, read Rule #1 again

Why you say, well, sit back and allow me to share the story of our adventures in Vietnam.

Dr. Vo is the team lead (and our personal guide) for Cenergy’s Electrical Engineering Operations. He was born in Saigon in the early 1950s. This blog post could be a complete biography of his life growing up in Vietnam; dodging the Vietcong as a young boy, being captured during the Vietnam war, attending University to become an electrical engineer, and immigrating to the United States in 1981.

However, my objective with these posts is to document our travels and extend my heartfelt thank you for his eternal optimism, patience, planning, and persistence. It was simply uncanny how he was able to corral a frantic group of 22 people while arranging top-notch accommodations, maneuver bustling airports, overcrowded streets, open-air markets, a variety of recreational activities, excellent local foods, and quite frankly the ability to accommodate each individual's needs. No tour guide could possibly be as flexible or accommodating.

After 20 hours of travel from LAX on EvaAir (Taiwan based) via TPE, we arrived on Friday, November 21, 2019.

Luggage, oh my - as a group we schlepped - 8 large cardboard boxes, 2 checked suitcases per person, backpacks as carry-ons, cameras, caged chickens (just kidding), you name it we had it. We looked like a circus had just dropped from the sky into Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon).

Now imagine the challenge of passing through customs, a group this size approaching with carts loaded to the brim. Large X-Ray machines loom ahead with the prospect of having every box, bag, and backpack (after an exhausting flight) unloaded and reloaded one-by-one on to the rolling carts was absurd. Just minutes earlier our entry into Vietnam was routine, simply hand your passport and visa to security at customs. We were home free, (we thought) however there was one final checkpoint after collecting all the luggage.

So, how do you handle this? It’s simple - for Dr. Vo.

He walks casually to the head of the group and motions to the security guards running the X-Ray machine, “Would you like to see my passport?” He says in Vietnamese.

Suddenly, as if by magic we wheeled all those huge boxes and large heavy suitcases around the X-Ray machine to the exit with one stipulation, “Please place your backpacks on the conveyer.”

“In Vietnam what’s illegal is legal,” he would say to me many times during the upcoming week around the city.

Little did we know we had effortlessly passed through customs by following Rule #1. This would occur many times during our whirlwind travels.

But wait, its approaching Midnight and were still at the airport.

If you’ve never traveled to Asia here’s what you can expect. As you exit the airport, there is a barrier with hundreds of people waving placards, jabbering on cellphones, taxis, buses, scooters darting in every direction - in short, mass confusion. But there among the masses was Dr. Vo's man in Vietnam, Quach Bao. He calmly lead us off to the side and had taxis' ready to load that pile of stuff and our group of weary travelers. What a relief.

That night, headed for the hotel, we received our first lesson navigating Ho Chi Minh City,

“You see these cabs with the VinaSun logo they are legitimate, many of the others are not. In Vietnam what’s illegal is legal.”

Without incident, another potential nightmare handled with ease and comfort.

So remember, when in doubt - read rule number one again.

And we haven’t even started yet, stay tuned . . .

Comments

Most Popular of All Time

Paris – the End of Silence

✈️  In this special episode: Paris – the End of Silence Sometimes, connection arrives in the most unexpected form—not through grand gestures, but through a quiet voice carried by technology. In a Paris apartment, I finally understood my family’s words . . . and felt my mother’s presence in every sentence. Since I was a little boy, France has been both a beautiful and frustrating paradox in my life. Every six to nine years, my mother, Mauricette, would take my brothers and me back to La Rochelle to visit our French family. The moment we arrived, the air would fill with a sound I loved but couldn’t share in—the rapid-fire, musical rhythm of French. My aunts, uncles, and cousins would warmly sweep me into hugs and kisses, their words flowing like a lovely melody I couldn’t quite catch. I’d smile brightly, trying to communicate with my eyes and hands. But as soon as we stepped off the plane, my mother and her sister-in-law, Joséan, started talking animatedly. They were gone, chatting h...

Pushing the Pause Button

In this episode, Pushing the Pause Button: Stepping Off the Treadmill Hello, friends — If you're reading this, I'm already off the grid. Today begins a much-needed vacation, and for the next few weeks, On the Fly is taking a break right along with me. For a long time, my inner voice has said, 'Keep every commitment, no matter what.' That's meant early mornings, long days, and a calendar packed with posts, podcasts, and projects I couldn't seem to say no to. I've been trying to be the tireless workhorse—but that kind of grind doesn't end well. Lately, I've noticed I'm not quite myself—shorter fuse, louder sighs, and a few too many grumbles (Lori deserves a medal). That's when you know it's time to hit pause before the spark burns out. So, I'm stepping back to rest, recharge, and remember what it feels like to not live by the next deadline: no tech, no to-do lists, just some space to breathe. Thank you, truly, for all your support and ...

The Friday Morning Pause

In this episode,  The Friday Morning Pause: When My Brother’s Bookshelf Called Me to Stillness We live in a world allergic to stillness. Our mornings begin mid-sprint—thumbs scrolling before our eyes even open. The impulse to jump into the digital chaos is immediate. But sometimes, stillness finds you . It was early Friday morning. We’d arrived late the night before, stepping into the cool air before the day turned hot. Half-awake, I reached for my phone—emails, headlines, social feeds waiting like a morning buffet of distraction. We were in Cuba. No Wi-Fi. No 5G. No password. Just stillness, disguised as inconvenience. Instead, I caught sight of something unexpected: a small stack of books on my brother’s TV shelf. My brother and his wife are powered by perpetual motion. They are the definition of overscheduled and overstimulated. Yet there it was: Stillness Is the Key by Ryan Holiday, quietly mocking my scrolling habit. The irony was perfect. I put my phone down—a small, delibe...

Noirmoutier: An Ocean Between Us, Gone in a Moment

In this episode, Noirmoutier: An Ocean Between Us, Gone in a Moment. Sometimes love waits half a century for its moment — and when it finally arrives, time doesn’t stand still; it disappears. The moment I stepped off the train in Nantes, it felt like time froze. There she was — my cousin Michèle — waiting on the platform, arms waving desperately. When we finally embraced, the fifty years that had passed between us disappeared in an instant. The melody in her voice was the same, but softer than I remembered. We both shed tears of joy that only come from love long overdue. “I’m so happy you are here,” she whispered, her voice trembling.   Thank goodness for the translation app on my phone, because the conversation began immediately — fast, fluid, and unstoppable. The Frenzy of Catching Up As we drove for about an hour to the tiny town of L’Épine on the Island of Noirmoutier, the words kept tumbling out. Michèle and her husband, Alain, are the most gracious hosts — but my new challe...