left our jobs, went to Asia

Lonely Planet promises that if I fail to present the baggage identification tag, I won't get it. The luggage, I mean.

Holding on to it (the tag, I mean), I exit the plane to find myself in a clean and nice arrival area. The boy from Air Asia crew says that he is grateful to me for flying, and hopes to see me again.
"This is much nicer than a bunch of European airports", I think to myself continuing down the corridor, at the end of which I meet a very Soviet-looking soldier, who isn't so nice as the boy before. He does not smile, and looks at me grimly.

Further on, in the passport control area, we meet eve more soldiers and still no smiles. The atmosphere is quite oppressing, as the hall is not very much lit, quite silent and people seem tense, with just a few occasional words that are produced mostly by the foreigners talking amongst themselves.

I am slightly pushed by one of the soldiers towards the next available passport control booth, where a lady spends quite a few minutes whilst analyzing the passport. Probably never seen anyone from Lithuania, but thats no wonder.

Elze has a different problem - they don't think she in reality is similar to her in the passport photo. The officials take their time to analyze the two, so I have a few spare minutes to notice how the appearance of the soldiers changes when they walk behind the booths - smiling, joking and playfully nudging each other.

After collecting our luggage and successfully passing the customs, we end up in a "10$-to-old-town" taxi, which thankfully drives on a right side of the street, in both possible meanings.

We used to play a boardgame that was called "Countries, capitals and flags" before.
And only now I realize that we are actually in a capital of the country.

"Vietnam, Hanoi"

I put the imaginary card back to the deck, and surrender myself to the view that comes through the taxi window.