Our caving trip ended just in time for us to celebrate my big 3-0. Woo hoo! (Not so much.) Unfortunately, I spent my 30^th birthday fighting a stomach bug in a city called Ninh Binh where it rained more than it didn’t. So instead of hearing about our stay there – which pretty much only consisted of a tour of a local grotto – here is the much more interesting story from our friend Niki that we met during our travels.

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After a morning bike ride to Mau Cave, and climbing the 500 steps for an incredible view of the mountains and valleys below, we were headed back towards town for lunch. On the way, I heard two motorbikes come up behind us chatting with each other. Instinctively, I started to pull further over to the right to allow them to pass on the narrow road, careful not to get too close to Zamir (boyfriend) in front of me as naturally, only one of the brakes worked. It was then that I felt my phone get pulled from my back pocket where I’d (yes, stupidly) put it as I was referencing it often to find our way into town.

I immediately screamed to Zamir that the guy on the motorbike stole my phone and to bike after him. The other motorcyclist was about even with Zamir at this point before they both zoomed on ahead of us. We were peddling furiously at this point with me screaming out any of the numbers I managed to decipher from their license plates.

“Seven and nine!” I screamed before continuing to yell, “Stop! Thief! Help!” in the unlikely hopes that one of the villagers we were coming up to would understand.

The thief with the phone had reached the point ahead of us that pursuit was futile. However, the other man on the motorbike began to slow and pull over. We immediately jumped off the bikes and confronted him, careful not to let him get away again. Even if he didn’t have my phone I was sure he knew the man who did. If only there was anyone around who spoke any English. At this point a small crowd of locals had gathered around to watch the two Westerners yell at this angry looking bloke. We were frantically miming that the phone was stolen to no avail. “Police? Police?” Doesn’t anyone understand that? If only I’d had my phone with Google translate…

There was nothing we could do. He didn’t have the phone and we couldn’t hold him there. What were we going to do? So I grabbed the camera and took a picture of him and his license plate. At least we could take something to the police.

We hurriedly biked back to the homestay knowing that at least there someone could help us contact the police and there was a slight glimmer of hope that I might be able to track it using Find My Phone with my computer. Chances were slim though as it was on airplane mode and the thief probably immediately switched it off.

When we arrived at the homestay the staff couldn’t have been more helpful. Calling the police and even telling us that they were coming to us to the station! Once they realized exactly where the phone was stolen, we learned that it fell in the jurisdiction of a much smaller police force and we needed to go there.

The police station was everything and more from a movie, from the single concrete room, with a squeaky ceiling fan to the chain-smoking police officers lounging around.

I was offered an already used cup of green tea strong enough to use as motor oil and proceeded to tell them the story. None of them spoke English so Tan (from our homestay) was the makeshift translator. As I spoke, one officer turned into five and then five to 12… some of them in uniform, others not.  All of them taking pictures with their phones of the camera screen showing the shot I’d managed to snag of the thief’s friend and his motorcycle.

I sat in the station for five hours telling the same story over and over as they transcribed on the same wide-ruled bluebook test packets I’d used in middle school. “How many meters was he behind you?” “Can you picture his face or anything he was wearing?” “Why do you think the thief’s friend stopped at all?”

All of a sudden I realized they might be interrogating me and I was worried the I’d be spending the next part of my trip in a Vietnamese jail in shoes that are too small as they don’t make shoes in my size here…

At the same time, I couldn’t help but be impressed with their thoroughness and professionalism. Let alone the fact that they were clearly taking this so seriously. I learned that not only the local police were involved, but also the district police and I was speaking with the most important man in the surrounding region who should have been at home eating dinner with his wife and kids at this time.

They asked Zamir to come to the station and bring my computer that had my iPhone registration and purchase information on it. At this point another local homestay owner had been called over because he spoke a little bit of English and could also help translate.  By the time Zamir arrived on the back of Tan’s brother’s wife’s scooter, the police already had the first man in custody!

The “friend” denied all association to thief and knowledge of the crime. We learned later though that the police did not believe him and he was a known local heroin addict.  I kept trying to explain that it was just a phone and I was just happy to be safe and that overall, Vietnam has been one of the safest places I’ve ever traveled. As the police chief stated, it was clearly a crime of opportunity and not a professional criminal. No phone though.

We head back to the homestay to finally eat after 13 exhausting hours, but before the noodles even start boiling we are called back to the station. The police have the thief!!

I am still doubtful that I will ever see the phone again, but this is pretty exciting and clearly everyone else thinks so as well.

We arrive back at the station and sure enough, the thief’s scooter is there and we both immediately recognize it. I only ever saw the back of his head and Zamir managed a glimpse of his profile as he drove by with the phone. We are huddled outside with 15 officers who are shushing us to stay quiet, explaining the thief is inside being questioned but that they need more evidence before they can officially “interrogate” him. Impressive police work to be sure.

As they crack open the back of a door where the suspect is, we are both 100% sure that it was him. Everyone seems pretty pleased and we are sent home, thoroughly exhausted, but not as exhausted as the police would be in the morning. (We later learned they would all be working through the night.)

The next morning I wake up and am looking up the logistics on how to replace the phone, get an AT&T SIM card, and recover whatever was saved on iCloud while Tan is groggily making breakfast. I had almost forgotten that several of the police officers friended me on Facebook the night before in case they needed any additional information or testimony once I left Vietnam.

I get a Facebook messenger chat from one of the officers with a simple “Good Morning” and “iPhone”. My response is, “Did you find it?” Which was followed simply by an almost excessively large smile emoji. At which point I ask Tan, as trusted translator, to help interpret. “Does that mean they found the iPhone?”

“Oh yes, they called this morning at 4am and 5am to tell us. No one got any sleep. I am tired too. We can go to the district police in a little bit.”

I am ecstatic! Amazing, but almost too good to be true… I maintain a healthy dose of doubt that I will actually get the phone back though. Who really knows what is getting lost in translation?

An hour of running around trying to make certified copies of our passports and some other bureaucratic legalities and we ended up at the larger district police station.

Five more hours of answering questions before we learn that after interrogation the thief confessed in the night that he had been a little drunk on rice wine, stole the phone, ditched the case by the river and sold it in Ninh Binh.  The best part is that they recovered all of it, including the case that had been thrown by the river and it was on its way to us!

I couldn’t believe I might actually get the phone back! When they walked in with it, you could tell how proud all of them were to see it recovered and returned to me.

That’s when an official videographer and photographer walked in and they asked if they could get some footage for a promotional video and commemorative photos. Sure, why not? I was also happy to write a thank you letter to both police forces for their outstanding work and strong efforts.

I thought that would be the end. Phone is hand, thank you very much; I’ll be on my way… I’d forgotten about the impending trial. At one point it was stated they might need to keep the phone as evidence during the trial. Then they said I would need to stay and testify, unless, did I have someone in Vietnam that could be my representative? No… luckily a handwritten full statement, translated by a kind lady who works down the street for a Taiwanese company was enough to suffice. We learn that the thief will likely be sentenced to three years in a Vietnamese jail.

At this point, I turned to the translator and asked what would be an appropriate way to show my appreciation and thanks? Could I buy a case of beer and leave it with them? As she translated I watched some of the men crack a smile for the first time since I’d been sitting there. No, they couldn’t accept that, but would be honored if we would join them for a celebratory lunch. Normally they do not so this, but this was a special occasion. So not only do I get the phone back, but also am invited to eat with them. What a day…

We are all sitting around some pulled together tables as they bring out dish after dish of special smoked chicken, traditional stir-fried vegetables, an amazing smelling soup, and enough steamed rice to make a bed out of. Then the police chief walks in with a case of Heineken that he brought from his own house. Again, not regulation, but everyone is finally smiling and more relaxed. An hour and twenty toasts later of  “Mot, hai, ba… Zoi!” (One, two, three… Cheers!) with the men, it’s finally time to leave. Hugs are exchanged, more Facebook friend requests sent, and a few last photos taken. Vietnam is still probably one of the safest countries I’ve traveled in and I would go back in an instant, especially after this experience.

Just another reminder that people don’t take trips… trips take people. On to the next adventure!